Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

darkened space. I was still wearing the clothes from the day before, having collapsed onto the mattress as soon as Dorian showed me to my room. The alarm clock beside the bed said that it was just after five in the morning. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but I was too wound up from the dream to try for a few more z’s.
    Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stared out of the small window beside the dresser. Taking a few minutes, I thought about my life in hopes of remembering something. When only blankness swirled through my brain, I put my head in my hands and grumbled into my palms. Though it had only been a day since I lost my memory, it felt a lot longer. Nothing made sense to me now, and that only aggravated me.
    The sound of a door shutting brought me out of my thoughts. Standing, I padded toward my door and opened it just enough that I could see into the hall. There was a room across from mine and a sliver of light spilled from beneath the door. Was that Dorian’s room? As soon as the thought crossed my mind I knew it wasn’t. I’d seen a man’s duffel bag sitting on my bedroom floor, which meant Dorian stayed in my room. The idea of having him in my bed caused a mixture of excitement and fear. I still wasn’t sure what to think about that man, or what being with him said about my character. How serious could Dorian and I be, though, if he didn’t even know what was going on between us? Something about that made me feel a little better. Maybe he’d just been a fling, a bad judgment on a lonely night. He had been helpful in his own way, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. He put me on edge, an instinctual feeling telling me to be cautious.
    Opening the door further, I tiptoed down the hall toward the kitchen. I’d been looking toward the living room, afraid I may wake Dorian. However, when my gaze swept toward the kitchen, I jerked at seeing him sitting at the table. My hand flew to my chest as my heart jumpstarted. He sat with his elbows propped up and hands clasped with his head resting atop his knuckles. At my arrival, he lifted his head and my jaw dropped. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. Moving closer, I stared at his bizarre eyes.
    “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, leaning back against the chair. I was aware he asked a question, but my focus was on the gray clouds swirling through his sockets. There was no pupil, just fogginess. Realizing I was making the ‘what the hell face’, I dropped my gaze.
    “What?” I asked, swiveling my head to search for the coffeepot.
    “I’m Death, Gwen,” Dorian replied.
    I stopped my search for coffee. “What?”
    He inhaled a deep breath through his nose and leaned onto the table again. Now that his eyes were on the tabletop, I noticed the cut of his arms. The cotton on his t-shirt fit snuggly around his biceps, which only made me think of that scandalous dream. Why couldn’t I have dreamt about my life, something to help me remember? More than that, why did I have to dream about two men? Wasn’t one enough to entertain my dreams?
    “That’s why my eyes are the way they are,” Dorian explained. “I am the angel of Death.”
    I stilled in the middle of the kitchen, shocked at the news. I was involved with the angel of Death?
    “I sense you have questions,” Dorian said. I just now noticed how tired his voice sounded, and I wondered if he had slept at all. Did angels sleep?
    “Do you have wings?” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I cringed. Do you have wings? Seriously?
    Dorian chuckled. “In a sense, yes. And no, I do not carry a scythe or wear a black robe.” He half turned to look at me, a smirk on his face. “Just in case you were wondering.”
    Another thought occurred to me, and just like before, I couldn’t stop it from leaving my lips. “But you and I…we…I slept with a…is that…never mind.” Racing over to the coffeepot, I got to work at making a fresh pot and tried to ignore Dorian’s gaze at my back.