Read Online Under His Wings by Naima Simone - Free Book Online Page B

utensil,
snatched it from the set. Its weight was a comfort in her grip.
    Her breath thundered in her ears as she crept back to the
window. With her spine pressed to the adjacent wall, she peered around the
sash. Shit. Empty. Her backyard was empty. Where the hell had it gone?
    The poker hung from her hand as she contemplated her next
move. The eternal optimist in her wanted to believe the beast had left. But
then a picture of the evil delight in his stygian gaze as he promised to take
his time with her filtered across her mind’s eye. No. If the monster had found
her, he wouldn’t just leave. Not with her trapped…nowhere to go…and no one to
interrupt him this time.
    A noise, so soft she almost believed her fear conjured it,
whispered through the utter stillness. Tamar sucked in a deep gust of air, held
it and strained to pick up the sound once more. Silence met her ears. And more
silence.
    Maybe… there .
    Like a footfall on carpet.
    Or a brush of cloth against a wall.
    Outside her bedroom.
    Panic drove her to the corner nearest her bed. She wedged
herself between the headboard and wall, brandishing the makeshift iron weapon
in front of her like a club. The moon’s pearlescent light didn’t reach the
corner where she hid and the darkness pressed down on her, an oppressive
weight. Her breath echoed in her head like a shrill wind through a cavern.
    Memories of another time when total blackness had borne down
on her threatened to drag her under the looming tide of terror. A time when the
yawning void of light had been as petrifying and painful as the twisted metal
that pinned the left side of her body to the seat of a crashed airplane.
    Tamar fought not to give in to the dread that poked at the
periphery of her subconscious. Sweat dotted her forehead and a bead rolled
lazily down her temple. It coated the skin between her breasts and made a
mockery of the deodorant she’d applied after her shower. Her fingers tightened
around the poker, her damp palms slick against the heavy metal.
    The bedroom door opened as slowly as a swinging pendulum.
She almost expected gnarled, clawed fingers to curl around the edge like the
imagined goblin that’d lurked inside her closet when she was ten. From her
hiding place, she couldn’t see who entered the room and her nerves stretched to
the snapping point as she waited.
    A shadow separated from the void that surrounded it and slid
over the floor toward her bed. Toward her. Her heart slammed against her chest,
a wild animal frantic to escape its cage. Every survival instinct screamed run , get out ! But it was too late—had been since she’d spied the beast
outside her window.
    Now all she could hope for was a quick death…and maybe to
make the intruder hurt a little, she vowed, lifting the weapon higher.
    The figure moved closer. Tamar tensed, ready to streak out
of the corner like a bat out of hell. It shifted direction, nearing the window.
Moonlight glanced off it, revealing the faint outline of a large man. The
shades of black lightened to gray, bringing its shoulder, neck and face into
focus.
    Shit.
    The poker lowered, her arms going limp with shock. Her lips
parted and a soft gasp escaped her throat. It couldn’t be…
    “Nico?”
    The man who had haunted her dreams and saved her sanity for
the last three years stepped fully into the shaft of light. His thick blond
waves appeared silver in the moon’s beam, but the strong carved-from-granite
jaw was the same. As were the slashing arch of his brows, the arrogant,
aquiline blade of his nose and the full erotic curves of his mouth.
    She knew his face well—had traced its beautiful features
with her eyes, fingers and lips many times.
    But always in her fantasies. Never in real life, in the
flesh.
    Joy hurtled through her, lit her up on the inside like a
Fourth of July firecracker. Her lips tilted upward, her smile widening, and the
warm glow of delight spread as if she’d downed a shot of whiskey. The tip of
the iron poker