Whisper to a Scream (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #6.5)

“I saw you looking at me,” a soft voice whispered in my ear.

Christina smiled up at me, peering from beneath lowered lashes. Though she was coy and sensual, I saw through the façade. It was too perfect, too practiced, as if she’d given the same look to countless men in her time.

My smile was authentic enough, but I was suddenly wary of this tragic beauty. Glancing around, I was unable to locate her companion. Odd.

“Have you lost your date? I can’t imagine why he’d be willing to let you out of his sight for a moment.” I searched her, seeking the truth beneath her carefully constructed appearance.

“Oh, well thank you for that, but apparently business comes first. He stepped outside to take a phone call.” She let her gaze travel longingly over the busy dance floor before fixing me once again with those shadowed orbs. “I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind keeping me busy until he comes back. I don’t know anyone here, and I’d rather not sit alone waiting.”

The tension thickened between us, laced with intrigue and attraction. Sure, I could have said no and made myself look like an ass. I could have feigned a phone call myself. Could have, should have…it doesn’t matter now.

“But of course, I’ll keep you company. I’d be honored to.”

Taking her hand, I led her onto the dance floor. Her skin was soft and so warm. The band played a spirited waltz. I pulled her into my arms, and the rest of the room seemed to disappear.

“Have you got a name?” She laughed, a tantalizing sound that made me want to laugh with her.

“Willow,” I replied, hoping she was oblivious to how deeply I searched her. I needed to know what it was about her that drew me this way.

“Interesting name for a man. I like it. Your parents must have been hippies or something.”

Her words cut fast and deep, reminding me why this was stupid. It was deceitful to play the human role while she was none the wiser that she was, indeed, in the arms of an angel.

I forced a smile. The arrival of her date would have been perfect then, an easy out without anyone coming to harm. But no, that would have been too simple. The music continued, and I was content to feel her against me.

Christina didn’t ask the typical small talk questions. In fact, she seemed quite happy for the silence. Her gaze strayed often to the couples dancing around us, and an almost wistful grin decorated her face. This mysterious beauty longed for something, and I yearned to know what that was.

Her scent was a pleasing aroma of tropical flowers and her own feminine musk. The sudden urge to bury my face in her neck was shocking and unbidden. What would she taste like if I kissed her?

The inappropriate thought brought a rush of heat to my cheeks. She was staring at me with a silly little half smile.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.” With her head cocked to the side studiously, she pursed her full lips. “I just can’t place it though.”

“Perhaps we’ve passed on the street before,” I offered, unnerved by her proclamation.

“Maybe,” she said, but she didn’t believe it. I could see her still trying to place me. “What do you do for a living? Are you part of this wannabe Wall Street circus?”

I chuckled. She wasn’t far off on that description. “Not me, no. I’m just here for a friend.” It wasn’t in my nature to tell a lie. However, I did not intend to share more than was acceptable.

“Oh, I thought you were alone.”

The song ended, and the band slowed down the next number. I made as if to release her, but she held tight. We shared a frozen moment, gazing into one another.

“Do you ever get that feeling you’re in the right place at the right time?” She asked. “Call me crazy, but I think I was supposed to meet you.”

“Is that so?” My mind raced for a way to excuse myself from the situation. Instead, she pressed closer to align her body to mine, and I was at a loss for words.

“Let me guess. You’re probably married or something, and I’m just setting myself up to look like a jerk. I’m sorry. I tend to speak before I think.”

Her apology was less than authentic when paired with her mischievous grin. What was she looking for that led her to me? I felt like the butt of a cruel joke.

“Definitely not married,” I assured her. “And, most certainly happy to have made your acquaintance.”

As we moved about the dance floor, a strange sense of comfort taunted me to pull her closer, even to slide a hand down her back to the curve of her hip. A rush of white noise filled my ears as I gave in to the urge. Her hand in mine tightened. Something like guilt flashed through her eyes, and she dropped her gaze.