Dangerous Desires (Book 2)

Angeldust

Because you guys hate the angst, this is a fluffy chapter. I am giving our boiis a break. Be warned, there is bad language (use of the word f*ggot) and a drunk Alastor.

                               ~~~~~~

Fading back into consciousness, my skin buzzes and hums as if a thousands tiny bees are trapped just beneath the skin.

This feeling... I've felt it before.

When Alastor healed me last time. But, why would...

Like being hit by a freight train, a flood of memories rush to the surface. Alastor's rut. Him feeding on me. Then... nothing.

I shouda' known betta' than ta push him in ta feedin' before he was ready. I shoulda' had him eat someone else so he wasn't tempted ta lose himself.

"You musn't blame the poor dear." A low feminine voice says.

Rosie.

Keeping my eyes closed, I listen to the concerned voices above me.

"I don't blame Anthony, Rosie. I blame myself. I promised him I wouldn't lose control. He trusted me and I... I..." Tone thick with regret, Alastor releases a heartbreaking cry.

Oh, my sweet Albert.

"Alastor- where are you going?"

"I can't be here. I can't look down into the beautiful face of my Husband, and not feel sinking guilt. Because I do, Rosaline. I feel it crushing me with every breath I take."

"It's natural to feel that way, but Angel will forgive you. Observing how he was while you fed, how he didn't flinch at your true form. That is a mate, and you have found it. Anthony has been, and always will be, your true mate. No matter the strife, he will forgive you."

Alastor's next words are but a bare whisper, but still seems to echo harshly. "I don't deserve to be forgiven."

Footsteps sound, a door opens, and then silence. I struggle to sort through the mess of thoughts piling on top of each other, eyes firmly shut to give the illusion that I'm still out cold.

"Don't worry, darling. He only went downstairs. He isn't far." Unsure of who Rosie is talking to, I crack my eye open just enough to peek through my eyelashes, yelping when I find her gaze studying me closely.

Of course she's talking to me.

This woman is unbelievably wise and knows things that will make one scratch their head.

"How did ya know I was awake?" Sitting up slowly, I flash her a sheepish smile. The humming is still there, but the burning sensation is gone. Glancing down briefly at my shoulder, my small grin widens to split my face. White fur is smooshed down to reveal a pale pink puckered scar. As if someone graphed flesh together and stitched it hastily, using magic to keep it closed. Now, two scars sit side by side to each other. One from our first date, and one from Alastor's first loss of control.

Scars or not, I still look good.

And hey, at least there's another mark from my husband. It makes me feel branded. Cherished. Truly claimed.

"The subtle change in your breathing. Had Alastor not been too consumed by grief, he would've picked up on that too."

"Did... didja mean what ya said?" The question flies from my mouth and I inwardly cringe.

Way ta go askin' that from da lady that is like a second Ma ta Al, dumbass!

"Of course. I do not say things I don't mean. It's pointless to do so. And as my mother always told me, 'life is much too short to be spewin' nonsense.'" Rosie says with a laugh.