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She would never forget that moment. Those dark blue eyes and the way, for the first time, she’d felt safe, when she should have been terrified in such an unfamiliar situation with total strangers. She’d been without her own clothes. Fear had come eventually, but strangely not when he was with her.

She hadn’t wanted to feel anything for Taviano because every time she was close to him, the physical attraction was so strong she could barely contain herself. She froze around any other male. She didn’t want to be in the same room with them. But she wanted to rip Taviano’s clothes off and get as wild and crazy as possible. That only made her feel dirty. She loathed herself. She’d gone off the deep end and acted out, finding the worst kids to run with, drinking and sneaking out her window at night, not studying, refusing to go to counseling. Hurting herself. She was meanest to Taviano because she was so attracted to him, not just physically—which didn’t make any sense, since she couldn’t stand the thought of a man putting his hands on her—but emotionally. Until that night when she’d gotten so drunk and thrown herself at him.

There were so many jerking turns, she should have had whiplash by now. She was so lost in the darkness with those horrible sounds, like trains and bullets and sometimes bees. She tried to match the noise to the speeds they traveled, recognizing that each sound was specific to a speed, anything to get her mind off the disorienting, sickening feeling of no longer having flesh or muscle. Sometimes the sensation of blood splattering over her face was all too real, and then it would feel as if she didn’t have a face and the bones of her skeleton were flying apart as well.

Abruptly, like before, they came to a skidding halt, one that sent her body jolting forward but felt as if she wasn’t all there. She was there, her mind, but the rest of her hadn’t had time to catch up. Her actual flesh-and-blood body was still back there in the shadows, caught somewhere, held prisoner. She didn’t open her eyes but clung to Taviano while her stomach churned madly and her head pounded so severely she thought her eyes and ears might bleed.

Bile rose and she tasted it in her mouth. She turned her head, trying to pull away from Taviano, but she knew she could never stand if he let her go. Her legs felt like noodles, no bones, and if she opened her eyes and saw light, she’d not only vomit but her head would most likely explode.

“Nicoletta?”

She became aware of Taviano rubbing his hands up and down her arms to warm her. She was shaking she was so cold. Freezing. Shivering.

“Can you open your eyes yet?”

She shook her head, tentatively testing to see if she could bring one hand up to cover her mouth, trying to convey to him that she was going to be sick. When she did, he immediately turned her away from his body and shuffled her forward a couple of steps. She bent toward the perfect carpet and gagged, over and over. Once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop, or at least it felt that way. They weren’t at a first aid station where he could find her wet wipes and a bottle of water. She was destined to be gross no matter what. She was really showing him what she was made of.

Nicoletta made every effort to force her body under control. It wasn’t easy, and she was terrified of opening her eyes. She knew, the moment she did, her head was going to shatter into a million pieces. Still, she lifted her lashes slowly, with great reluctance. They were standing well back in the shadows in the hallway of the luxury hotel just outside the suite where they were staying.

Colors exploded behind her eyes, and her head throbbed and burned. Her vision was blurry, and strange geometric patterns faded in and out in graying patterns in front of her. Her throat felt raw. She cleared it several times. “Is anyone in there?”

“I’ll check. I don’t want you to move. Stay right here and don’t make a sound. Even if Armando comes and has your friends with him, he won’t be able to see you if you don’t move,” Taviano cautioned.

She wasn’t about to move. She couldn’t, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She nodded, trying not to sway. Trying not to let him see she was going to fall on her face any second. She’d asked for this, and she was putting them both in danger. She wasn’t going to be the weak link by being utterly helpless.

She had experienced the shadows and what they could do to one’s body when she was fifteen and alone. It had been accidental, but it had happened, and she’d chosen to try over and over to re-create that experience in order to escape her uncles, even for a little while. She would choose the pain and fear in order to help her friends and stand with Taviano every time.


Tags: Christine Feehan Shadow Riders Fantasy