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

She leaned over to retrieve the spoon, and her hair flipped, exposing a small star tattoo on her neck beneath her ear. With a twitch of her full lips, she purred, “Nothing at all?”


Sudden warmth struck me. My heart pounded when she followed the question by trailing her fingers along the back of my hand. I was unable to speak as my mouth went dry.

“You wanted me though, didn’t you? Before you found out what I do for a living. Trust me, I know when a man is attracted to me.” Christina pulled her hand away and smoothed back her hair. She watched me like a cat watching a clueless mouse.

I grew uneasy. I missed her touch already and wished she would reach across the small table once more. My cheeks burned with the answer to her question.

“I enjoyed our dance very much,” I managed to say. “I’m sorry it was interrupted.”

Her peal of infectious laughter filled the coffee shop. Again, it coaxed me to laugh with her as if we shared some private joke.

“We could start again. There’s a cute little jazz club downtown. Maybe we can go sometime.”

“I would love to.” The words spilled out before I could rethink them.

“Really?” Christina’s eyes widened with surprise. “My occupation doesn’t turn you off? Oh, please tell me it doesn’t turn you on.” She made a gagging sound before dissolving into more laughter.

With a shake of my head, I pushed my macchiato aside. I considered taking her hand but decided against it. “I’ve enjoyed the brief time I have spent in your presence tonight. It would be an honor to get to know you better.”

“You just have all the right words, don’t you?” She drank the last of her coffee and grimaced. “I wish this was tequila. Too bad it’s past last call.”

A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb and honked. Christina jumped out of her seat as if on fire. She spilled her purse in the process and, cursing, bent to gather up the contents.

“That’s my cab. I’m sorry; I’ve got to go. Here.” Before I could help or so much as move, she shoved a card into my hand and turned to go. “Give me a call if you’re serious about the jazz club. Goodnight, Willow.”

I watched her click-clack out the door in those frightfully high shoes. After she got into the cab, she caught me staring and waved.

I was such a fool. How did I possibly think I could go out with this woman as if it were perfectly fine?

Christina tried to erect a facade of normalcy, though she was no closer to normal than anyone else. Maybe I could help her see that she was no more broken than the next person.

Or, maybe that was just the first lie I told myself.

* * * *

The music was loud, drowning out the sound of Christina’s musical laugh. It did nothing to lessen the effect of her energetic actions as she pulled me from my seat.

“I love this song,” she cried. “Dance with me?”

I’d wrestled with guilt and uncertainty after watching her drive off in that taxi. A little voice in my head screamed for me to throw her number away and forget that I’d met her. I knew that I had no business in her life, but after several days of struggling, I ignored the voice of reason and picked up the phone.

So, here we were.

For two hours, we made small talk and danced. Christina was lively with a genuine love of music. She talked a mile a minute about everything from her favorite organic yogurt to the dogs she volunteered to walk at a local animal shelter. This enigmatic woman was so much more than her dates would ever realize.

She asked difficult questions about my life, and I did my best to be honest without oversharing. Telling her I worked in protective services was as close as I dared to get.

“Oh, Willow, isn’t this place the best? It feels like stepping into the past.” Christina twirled amid the other dancers, a vision in a pale blue dress.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. While she spun in my arms, I tried to memorize every detail about her. Her exuberance freed me from my nerves. She brought me such joy. It felt so good to be part of the human world, even in such a small way. So often, I was only allowed to observe.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, my words stolen by the music.

She spun into my arms, pressing close. Her soft tresses tickled my chin as the sweetness of her perfume teased me. My senses were overwhelmed.

I wanted so badly to kiss her. It would have been so easy; she was so painfully close. Guilt stopped me.

“I don’t think I can dance in these heels much longer. My feet are killing me. Let’s get out of here. There’s a cute little pub I want to show you.”

Christina’s breath was warm against my ear. A shiver tickled its way through me, along with an inward groan.

In the warm night air outside, we walked hand in hand. There was a skip to Christina’s step, as if she possessed an inner joy that could not be contained. She fed my curiosity; I needed to know more about this woman. Many questions lurked on the tip of my tongue, but with great restraint, I somehow held back.