Page 7 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

I had sensed I was never alone, that I had always had someone sitting by my side, holding my hand or whispering in my ear, giving me strength to fight through the darkness. But I could swear I wasn’t alone at night, either. Maybe the presence I felt was nothing but a dream.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here.” I felt an empty place in my heart despite all the love that filled this room just moments ago. As if my soul was craving something more.

“You don’t need to thank me. Now rest so I can get you out of here as soon as possible.” He placed a lingering kiss on my forehead before leaving me with a promise to return in the morning.

I remembered him. I felt comfortable with Victor, but not knowing for sure what our relationship was rattled my mind.

Am I dating him? Fuck, I’m messed up!

I let my eyes flutter closed again, my vulnerable and frail body requiring rest and tranquility.

It wasn’t long before I fell asleep, dreaming of the blast. Just bits and pieces, and massive voids filled with incoherences and doubt.

Again, I felt a presence, someone in the dark looking over me, protecting me. I opened my eyes, just a peek so that I wouldn’t scare the person away. I felt my fingers comfortably intertwined with another hand, a strange feeling of solace comforting me.

The room was darker, only the weak light shining from a lamp on the bedside table.

His head was bowed on his crossed arms, resting on the bed, my hand tightly clasped in his. Still, I managed to squeeze his fingers, his head bouncing up in response.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw his eyes. Bloodshot red overbearing his entrancing blue irises. His face was traced with healing scratches, his hands wrapped in white gauze. He had a bandage over his eyebrow, a blue bruise spilling out of it.

It was him. The angel I saw amidst all that darkness.

He was hurt, but the agony I saw on his face as he stared back at me was far beyond physical pain.

Undoubtedly beautiful, even if troubled, just as I had always found him. But this time, I saw something more.

Raw and unveiled vulnerability. Nothing but reality and unmasked feelings that made him shine brighter than ever.

He was a beacon in this vast sea of uncertainty. I knew nothing but what I felt, and for him, I seemed to feel it all.

This man set a wildfire loose in my chest with the way he stared at me, conflicted and uncertain. I couldn’t tell if my heart had stopped or sped up to such an unnatural pace it burned a hole in my chest.

His eyes held mine captive, completely hypnotized, expectant, nervous. Just a couple of seconds that seemed like an eternity. I had forgotten to breathe as I waited for God knows what.

“Max,” I whispered in a heavy exhale, my hand traveling up to his hair, unsure if I was even supposed to be touching him at all. My brows were knitted together, maybe concern or just an uncertain, wordless plea.

Soon enough, I was in heaven.

His lips settled on mine, consuming me with his kiss, killing me and breathing life back into my every pore.

There was devotion in that kiss. Concern, and long last longing, as if he was afraid I would never wake up.

He was just kissing my lips but deeply stroking my soul, unburying my dusty heart, and now holding it in his damaged hands.

With no questions at all, I knew I was his. I didn’t need to remember a damn thing to feel that. To know that.

His tongue probed into my mouth, fitting perfectly with mine. My tears raced down my cheeks, seasoning our kiss with relief and release.

Now I feel safe.

But this was a new taste. One of a love I felt I was missing out on.

Of a love I was sure I hadn’t had before.

There was no way I would forget something this strong.

The shivers that ran down my spine and sprinkled my skin with goosebumps were clear in their message – I had been waiting for this moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Max groaned between demanding pecks.

He kissed me, and then kissed me again, and again. His hand held the back of my neck, gently pulling me in, eagerly swallowing every one of my breaths, every one of my pants, every one of my unworded questions.

My body was screaming for him, squirming beneath his still innocent touch, wanting his hands to travel and feel every inch of me, bruises and cuts be damned. It wasn’t the simple need for sex. It was more. So, so, so much more. I needed him to claim me. To have me. To want me.

Every kiss was charged with concern and its remedying relief. Just as my brain had quieted down enough to fully appreciate each stroke of care from his addictive tongue, Max stopped.

He rested his forehead on mine, and I was suddenly flooded by a sense of déjà vu .

I’d seen this before. I’d sensed this hesitance and resistance at some point, in the same way, with the same person.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I chose not to reply. I pulled him back to me, my lips fitting in his as if they belonged there, while my hand traveled to his hard chest. My fingers skimmed beneath his shirt, feeling the warmth of his bare skin before settling just above his heart.

I found no resistance at first, another deep kiss filled with promise and uncontrolled craving that ended sooner than I would have liked. Max pulled back, standing up to wedge an unwanted space between us.

I frantically searched my memories for even a glimpse of what had happened between us. Blurred fragments were all I got, so I had no choice but to ask for the answers I needed.

“We’re not together, are we?” I tried, watching as he raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

He probably didn’t know about my memory gap.

“The doctors say I have some kind of short-term memory loss. I can remember some things, but mostly just fragments. So I’m not sure what’s happened between us, but I do know that what I just felt in that kiss can’t be faked.

But seeing as how you weren’t the one holding my hand when I woke up and that you’re running away from me, I’m guessing we aren’t together. ”

“No, we’re not.” I could swear I felt something close to regret in his voice, his jaw clenching to the rhythm of the ticking clock in what seemed to be badly concealed jealousy. I had struck a nerve.

“Why?” I dared to ask. I saw him shift back and forward, his hand running across his dark blonde hair as a tell to his uneasiness, looking for the right answer.

“Because we can’t. Because things like this would keep happening if we were.” His angry voice came out louder. It was clear he blamed himself for that bomb and its consequences. I just couldn’t understand why.

“Max. This wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, Alison. Believe me, it was.” I suddenly felt like I was losing him, watching as he pulled away from me. I wanted to grab him, stop him from retreating.

“Does that mean you’re not going to kiss me again?

” I waited for a reply that didn’t come.

“Because I’d gladly go through another blast if that kiss was my breath of life.

” His eyes changed at the sound of my words, rooting him frozen to his spot, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a marathon.

He stood there staring at me, deciding what to do with the bomb I had just detonated.

“I wasn’t the one to wake you up, remember? I’m not the prince charming that wakes the princess with a kiss.”

“Good. Princes are boring. I’d choose the villain any day of the week.”

“Fuck!” I heard him mumbling beneath his breath, gritted teeth, and a tight jaw while his hand ran through his hair again. Hadn’t I told him how I felt before?

“I almost died, Max. I’m done with not living. Unless… that kiss wasn’t as heartfelt as it seemed.” I let my words sink in, watching him search for his.

“I can’t condemn you to my fate, Alison.” He said instead of answering my question.

“That’s my choice, not yours. And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want the truth, Max. Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes, it is! Not all truths are meant to be spoken. Mine bring consequences like this. Your blood is still drying, Alison. I will not take part in having it spill any further. Your truth is that you’re with Victor now, and that’s how things should be.”

I swallowed those sharp words, my heart breaking into tiny, unmendable pieces, knowing that it belonged to someone who didn’t want it.

“You shouldn’t have bothered then.”

“What?” Confusion rattled his features.

“Saving me. You shouldn’t have bothered risking your life just to end up handing me over like damaged goods.”

I watched as my words bore into him, hoping they would hurt him more than his cuts and bruises.

“It’s how it should be,” he repeated. I wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince this time.

“Not worth the fight,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Okay, if that’s it,” I managed to reply, not fighting hard enough to contain the new tears that now streamed down my face.

I had spilled my guts and heart out to him, and he handed me off on a silver fucking platter.

“I think you should leave.” I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand, gathering my wits together with the strongest tone I could voice. “Don’t bother coming back.”

He stood there staring at me for a while, nursing a silent battle that I saw raging in his blue eyes, finally choosing his version of the right fate.

“As you wish, Miss Battaglia.”

I watched him leave, my chest caving with each step he took. The click of the door closing behind him worked like a switch on my brain. Had I learned nothing from my family?

If you want it, take it!

Fuck the paralyzing fear that kept me from fighting.

Nothing in life came free. Nothing came without a struggle. Why would my happiness be any different?

There was something Max was hiding from me. I didn’t need to remember all the details to know that a kiss like that couldn’t be faked. I heard all the words he poured into it, but I was done being deaf to silent callings.

It didn’t matter what would come to fill these holes in my memory. I made a pledge on this hospital bed that I swore to keep. Life was too volatile to be wasted standing on the sidelines.

My days of voyeurism ended right here.

I had been too busy being polite. It took a damn fucking bomb to snap me out of it, but I’d embrace the Battaglia blood in me if it meant having a shot at happiness.

Damn the princess! Make way and brace yourselves for the fucking Queen.