Dark Angel, page 7
The car hums beneath me, a mechanical lullaby that can't drown out the buzz of my thoughts. We're in a race against time to get Summer to the treatment center, but it's Rayne who keeps drifting into my mind. She's got a hold on me, some kind of magnetism I can't shake. The pull I feel toward her goes beyond physical—it's like she silences my inner chaos. Just met her, and already, there's this bond? Celestial intervention? Ridiculous. I took this assignment to protect her, so there’s no reason for the gods to spellbind us. We pull up to Harmony Hills. The sterile smell of the place hits me with memories I’d rather ignore as I hand Summer over to the professionals. They know how to handle this type of damage; I don't. I catch glimpses of her past traumas, little snapshots that can't even compare to what Rayne must have gone through. I can't shake the image of her, haunted yet intense, and it’s unsettling how much I find myself wanting to protect her.
Stepping back, I force myself to breathe. Now isn't the time for my own issues. But thinking of Rayne, her gaze that seems to cut through all my defenses, lights a fuse on emotions I don’t want to deal with.
The farther we get from her, the more restless I become. My past is a constant weight, always there, always pulling me down. But with Rayne, there are moments where it all seems to fade away. That scares the hell out of me.
My thoughts are a damn mess as we head back. On one hand, I want to shut down, to avoid all this emotional turbulence. On the other, I feel a pull to be near Rayne, like she's some kind of lifeline. I've got to get my head back in the game; this isn't the time to come unraveled.
I suspect Rayne’s darkness is more like a Roman shield wall instead of the very dark hole where I exist. Knock down one of her shields and she’ll come charging out, a blaze of light.
I make a silent vow that comes out of nowhere. I've got to make peace with the wreckage. But for now, it’s Rayne who's at the forefront of my mind. As much as it pisses me off to admit it, she might just be what I need—a glimmer of light when all I’ve known is darkness. And as much as it terrifies me, I can't shake the feeling that she could be my way out.
8
RAYNE
Nausea consumes me for several minutes that seem like an eternity before my system starts to adjust to the drug coursing through my veins. It’s not as if I haven’t been here before. The drug is probably Viper’s favorite cocktail of Rohypnol and cocaine. He didn’t give a shit how sick the drug made me, as long as the johns could spread my legs. On the upside, it saved me from a host of distasteful blow jobs . . . vomit will do that.
When I can open my eyes without the room spinning, I’m looking at one big-ass security monitor that I hadn’t noticed before. The screen is divided into about ten different windows, displaying the perimeter of a large, beautiful home in what looks like real-time surveillance. I watch a lot of comic book movies, and I feel like I'm watching a scene from one of them playing out before me.
I spot a remote nearby. Grabbing it should be simple, but with my stomach doing flip-flops, nothing's a given. Breathe in, breathe out. My hand hovers, then snatches it up. No new wave of nausea hits. Small victories.
The screen zooms, and I'm watching a view of a corner of the house where the waning sunlight casts shadows over much of the grounds. Then, something moves, shadow to flesh. Jaden. A shimmer surrounds him. Hallucination, got to be. The drugs playing tricks on me. But I can't look away. He downs the guy. Permanently. A nausea of a different kind claws at me. The first kill was in self-defense; this one most definitely isn’t. Deep breaths, Rayne.
What did I just witness? My brain's a cyclone, but I can't dismiss what's right in front of me. The brutal, unfathomable truth: Jaden just went all-in for my sake. Why? What's his angle?
This man's not a puzzle, he’s a maze. He's all hard edges and darkness, sure, but there are these slivers of vulnerability, windows into something tortured and too damn familiar. A connection I can’t shake.
I've spent years building walls, damn high ones, but this man, in mere moments, threatens to tear them down. Goddammit. Why can't I expel him from my thoughts? Is it just lust? No, it can't be that simple. Jaden's not simple. He's a storm cloud with a silver lining I can't quite place, but for the first time in a long while, that lining looks a lot like hope.
My body aches, my mind's a whirlwind of emotions, but there’s no denying what I saw. That’s part of my curse—once I see something, I can’t unsee it. Jaden, this dangerous man, just risked everything to save me. How is that even possible? Why would he do it? I can't wrap my head around the idea of someone, anyone, going to such lengths for me.
But then again, there's something different about Jaden. He exudes power and darkness, but I've glimpsed moments of vulnerability in his eyes—flashes of torment that mirror my own. It's as if we share a connection, a bond forged in the depths of our darkest secrets.
I don't know what it is about him that pulls me in, why I can't get him out of my mind. I'm terrified of the intensity of my emotions when it comes to him. I've always been cautious, kept my walls high and my heart protected, but with Jaden, it's as if all my defenses crumble with a single glance.
Maybe it’s just lust. I want to hate him for what he does, for the darkness surrounding him, but I can't deny how he makes me feel alive like I'm more than just a victim of my past. He ignites something in me, a flicker of hope in the shadows of despair.
As I slump against the cold gurney, I wrestle with the chaos in my head—Jaden, the drugs, this sense of being tethered to him. Fucking hell, my brain's a mess. My eyelids turn to lead, and finally, I let sleep claim me.
It's unclear how much time has bled away when I jolt awake. I still feel like shit, my body fighting against the remnants of whatever’s been pumped into me. I shake my head, trying to air out the cobwebs to reel in the string of events.
And yet, it's Jaden's face that's stuck in my head. The way he tore into those guys, his eyes like twin embers of a burning fire. He's a mysterious riddle, and for some goddamn reason, I can't shake the feeling that he's as fucked up as I am . . . despite appearances.
The logical part of me screams that this is a red flag. Danger. But fuck it, something about him reels me in like a magnet. He's a puzzle I want to solve, a maze I'm tempted to wander.
I should be on my guard. This pull, this spark between us—it's like playing with fire. I don’t even like the guy, and he’s the enemy. Yet, here I am, wondering if he’s got a way out of my mental mess. Hell, even the absurd notion of love flickers at the edges of my thoughts.
"No one will ever love you. You're a waste of space." ES's voice pierces through my jumbled thoughts. I'm torn between the dregs of the drugs still in my system and the torrent of emotions threatening to drown me. About Summer. About the whole fucked-up reality I'm in. And through the haze, Jaden’s kill hangs heavy—raising more questions than answers.
As sleep creeps up on me again, that unsettling thought refuses to fade: Jaden killed someone. For me. Is he my savior or just another twisted turn on this fucked-up path I'm on? One thing’s for sure, our lives are knotted together now, whether by fate or some fucked-up design. And as I drift off, one thought rattles in my head like a damn echo: he killed for me. For me.
Jolted awake, the warmth on my arm yanks me back to here and now. Where the hell am I? Memory floods back as I recognize the couch in Jaden’s Batcave. The couch is like lying on a cloud—if clouds were made of kickass leather. It's dark and mysterious in here, kinda sexy but also kind of "watch your back."
I snap my focus back and there's Jaden, this huge guy just hovering over me. His eyes are like an X-ray, but now there's this new layer, almost like he's eyeing a prize. What're you thinking, Jaden?
Okay, Rayne, reel it in. Don't show him the tornado of crap swirling in your head. He can't know how much he's messing with me. That's locked up tight inside.
"You're shivering,” he says, and the concern lining those works triggers a massive flight response. I spring off the too-comfortable couch, then almost double over from the pain. Shit. With a slow exhale, I straighten, refusing to show weakness. I've had my share of crappy guys in my life; I'm not lining up for more. Especially not from a guy who's killed for me. Could kill me. God, I can't even unpack that shit right now.
He stays put, looking like he can't decide if I'm insane or just unpredictable. I've got him on his toes, good. He's still a wildcard to me, and handing out my trust? Not on today’s menu.
"I'm fine," I snap, keeping the words short and sharp as I put some distance between us. Like drawing a line in the sand.
He throws me for another look—almost hurt, not angry. "What did you think I was going to do to you?" His voice is cold as ice and twice as cutting.
Whoa there. Nobody ever gives a damn about how I feel. "Nothing." I avoid his eyes like they're traps. "Just lost myself for a sec."
Then comes this heavy pause, like he's seeing stuff in me I didn't think was showing. "Rayne, one rule. Don't lie to me. You can say you don’t want to talk. Say it's none of my business. But don't lie."
His words hit a raw nerve, can't help but make it quiver. “I thought you'd hit me. It's a learned response." My voice carries the shakiness I fail to hide.
Now the air's thick between us, like we're wrapped up in some complex puzzle neither of us can just walk away from. There's this electricity, this tie that's more confusing and tangled than this freaky room . . . or us.
He looks relieved, like he was afraid of something. "I'll take that as an apology. That’s a natural reaction.” His voice sounds weary. “You have my word. I will never intentionally hurt you. I repeat—you have my word. Now, I need to take a look at that shoulder." He walks away, heading into the other room.
The problem is, I believe him despite every logical brain cell giving me several hundred thousand reasons not to trust him. I sit back on the couch, my mind spinning with conflicting emotions. Part of me wants to trust him and believe that he won't hurt me like others. But another part of me fears getting close to someone again and letting my guard down. But there's something pulling me toward him, something I can't explain. It's like we're connected in some weird way, like he understands me in a way no one else does. And I can't help but shake the sense he's hurting too, if he's trying to keep his own demons at bay. My gut also screams that he’s way more damaged than I am, but that’s simply not logical.
I follow him to the infirmary, and he's all business, tending to my wounded shoulder with skill and care. But I can't ignore the intensity in his gaze, the way he looks at me like he's trying to figure me out. I get another shot of this strange connection between us, like we're two lost souls drawn together by some unseen force.
It’s downright strange for me to be this aware, this captivated by a man. I rarely find real people attractive—there's that small crush I had in high school and my undeniable obsession with Chris Hemsworth. Yet, with this guy right beside me, touching my skin, Chris might as well be Steve Buscemi. And unlike any other man I’ve met, he's not trying to hit on me. I’ve mistaken idle curiosity for desire. In fact, I'm getting the distinct feeling that he's not even remotely interested, that I'm just another body in the healthcare meat market. That should make me very happy but instead it pisses me off.
But the longer I spend with him, the more I want to know about him and the darkness surrounding him. I swallow down a sigh as my rational mind tries to talk some sense to me. I'm scared of what I might find. This guy just may have more baggage than I do. I’m scared of getting too close, of letting someone in. Because even the nice guys are only nice until they try to bang me. But at the same time, I can't deny the pull toward him, the way he makes me feel seen and understood.
But he’s not like the other guys, not even Tom, the only guy I’ve ever had a relationship with. I’d adored Tom at first. He’d been nice to me and told me he loved me. He’d even moved in with me for a while. But he’d turned out to be a fucked-up drunk still in love with the wife he neglected to tell me about and I’d kicked his ass out. ES took great pleasure gloating to me, over and over, just like he had in my teens, that Tom’s deceit was the best someone like me deserved.
Maybe Jaden is no different. Maybe I’m looking at the world through the Pollyanna glasses everyone accuses me of wearing. Absently, more out of habit than anything, I finger my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I inhale his scent. My senses come alive, and I'm hit with a whirlwind of scents mingling around him. It's like nothing I've ever experienced before. His unique musk envelops me, a subtle blend of strength and allure that's both enticing and intimidating.
But there's more to it—a mysterious undercurrent that I can't quite place. A faint whiff of something almost earthy, a woodsy note that reminds me of lying in a hammock in the woods, with a hint of spice, like the smell of a fresh cup of coffee. His smell is so complex, and yet so familiar, like he is. Like it's part of me.
Yet, beneath the inviting aroma, there's a faint undertone of danger—a sensation of static electricity lingering in the air. It's the scent of someone who has walked through fire, carrying the weight of his past with him, like a storm on the horizon that hasn't fully unleashed its power.
The mixture is intoxicating and unsettling, drawing me in and pushing me away simultaneously. I can't help but be drawn to it, to him, despite the warning signals that flash in my mind. Jaden's smell is a contradiction—a captivating puzzle that entices and warns, leaving me curious and cautious all at once.
As he finishes tending to my shoulder, I find myself drawn to him, wanting to comfort him, to take away whatever pain he's carrying inside. But I don't know how, and I'm scared of what I might uncover if I dig too deep. All I can do is offer him a small smile, a silent promise that I'll be there for him, just like he's been there for me . . . so far. And maybe, just maybe, together we can find a way to heal each other's wounds and find the light in the darkness. Clearly, I’ve lost my mind. I just hope and pray that this isn’t another case of my eternal optimism that’s going to turn around and bite me in the ass.
He tidies up the infirmary in that OCD way of every doctor I've ever seen, with precise and methodical movements. I watch him without saying a word, feeling a mix of frustration and fascination. He doesn't look at me, but his intense aura still lingers in the room, pulling me in like a moth to a flame.
“I don't do needy, and I don't do clingy.” Out of fucking nowhere he makes this announcement while he braces his hands on the edge of the gurney as he frowns down at it. His words sting, a not-so-subtle warning to keep my distance. But beneath the tough exterior, I sense his internal battle, a desire to push me away and a longing to keep me close.
He heaves a deep sigh, and without another word, he turns and marches his tight ass into the other room, leaving me with a swirl of emotions. I don't know what to make of him, and the way he alternates between hot and cold is enough to drive anyone crazy.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Frustration surges through me as I yell after his retreating back. And what the fuck difference does it make to me anyway what he does? I plan to stay just long enough to find out where Summer is, and then I’m out of here. There's no place for a connection between us in my life. I'll be gone like a gust of wind.
But even as I tell myself this, part of me can't deny my magnetic pull toward him. It's like I'm caught in a dark web, unable to break free. As much as he wants to push me away, the strange link between us tells me that he wants me to stay just as badly. His conflict mirrors my own, and like me, there's more to this man than meets the eye. I can’t shake the feeling that I need to find out more.
With a heavy sigh, I put my weighty thoughts aside for now. The priority is finding Summer and getting the hell out of here. But as I leave the infirmary and step back into the main room, I can't help but feel that my life has taken a dangerous turn. Jaden may be a storm of darkness, but there's a glimmer of something else hidden beneath the surface, something I can't quite put my finger on.
As I try to figure out my next move, uncertainty gnaws at me, and I know that nothing in my life will ever be the same again. The puzzling man with the tight ass has drawn me into his world of shadows, and there's no escaping it now. But this bond between us, this tangible pull of sensations and emotions, keeps growing stronger; right now, it's screaming that he needs someone. Hell, I don’t want that responsibility... or maybe, deep down, I do? My heart's thudding against my chest, tangled in fear and curiosity about the road ahead.
9
JADEN
My emotions are a raging tempest, relentlessly tearing at my soul. The aftermath of the killing left me battered, physically and emotionally. My angelic powers have been pushed to the limit, and now, I'm left feeling drained and vulnerable. It's like walking on a tightrope, trying to balance the vigilante seeking justice with the desperate need to care for myself.
Rayne's presence is a double-edged sword, the embodiment of both comfort and fear. Ever since I met her two days ago, I've been fighting to shut out her energy, her emotions. They keep hammering at my defenses, but I can't let myself get consumed by them. My powers are tied to my emotions, and I know that letting her in would replenish me, but the risk is too great.
Yet I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something very special about her. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s been casting a spell over me. But that’s simply not possible. She’s a mortal and they don’t have superpowers despite what the comic book franchises would have us believe. I know because the celestials told me when they made me an avenging angel. Maybe this is their way of telling me I have no fucking choice in the matter of protecting Rayne. And none of that answers the larger questions rolling around inside of my psyche—why am I here on this earth? What is my purpose? Who am I? Questions that fuck me up every minute of every day.
