Page 70 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)

“Their fur on their wings reminded me of your hair locks,” she explained in a sheepish manner. “But you look more human…”

“More human?”

Her cheeks slightly reddened. “More human and less of a nightly creature.”

My lips quirked to a smirk. “Good to know I resemble as a vampire,” I said, half-jokingly.

She stuttered for a moment, playing and lacing with her fingers.

Had my hand flat on my knee, I smiled at her random words she cutely expressed.

“Adrian,” she uttered softer.

My jaw ticked, locked in at her sound, calling for me, begging like a prayer.

Desperate like I clinging onto a life support, I hoisted up, crashing my lips to her, tasting her, devouring her with my hand cupped on her face.

She moaned aloud, but I muffled it with my tongue, the sounds only for me to hear. Nobody else’s but mine.

Mine.

She’s mine.

Her breath, her touches, her reciprocated kisses…all belonged to me. My lips tainted with hers. I marked her!

I mentally listed a tasteful wonders that benefit for my lips as I languid moistened and mingled her soul to mine—her sincere gratitude, her voice, her breathy moans, her hand entangled to mine, all those days and weeks of avoidance and fearful confrontation from my parents, from Bjorn, from Emily and Romano, all dwindled.

Fear is defeated and my happiness flowed, not a care in the world but to gratify the wishes and imagined circumstances with Eva.

All mine.

Setting my leg over the bed, I caged her in, my body weighing down on her, my tongue shoved down in her mouth and she took it without protest. Her warm tongue mingled with me, as I grew hot and heavy, the skin on my back scorched, unable to maintain composure, unable to let her go, growing thirstier.

Fingers tangling with hers, the heart machine sped her heartbeat a little and the balminess on her face grown warmer, redder and sheepish.

My eyes wouldn’t avert from glimpsing Eva time to time.

Her sheepish eyes averted, as I found myself amused at her reaction from a slight touch—my touch.

Slowly, Eva’s the old burnt scars of her hands settled on my waist, raising it up around my neck, latching hand-to-hand.

Smiling at her attempts to pull me in, she has won my heart over, as my lips found its way to meet hers fervently. Tasting her was like tasting water, my hunger sated and my head settled in peace.

My hand slithered all the way under her blue hospital gown, the plains of her flat belly was smooth and cold.

My breath ragged as my fingers kneaded on her left breast, circulating the motions, emitting a sound released from her lips, throwing her head slightly at my cold touch.

Nibbling on her earlobe, I let out a passionate moan in her ear.

The bulge inside my trousers hardened, and bucked my dick against her wet folds.

Eva clung to me tighter, cheeks flush deeper, like my fantasies came true.

An addiction fueled me for a greater ambition and sprung an idea, like I’ve been waiting this moment my entire life.

“I can’t get enough of you, sweet angel,” I whispered, lovingly traced her skin. “I can’t stop thinking about you and your emerald eyes.”

Every time I looked into her eyes, I swore I saw the ruins of heaven and earth.

I breathed heavily at a close proximity, slow kisses turned sloppy and passionate, hot and heavy, like our breaths constricted, heaving for air.

“I can’t stay away from you,” I added. “The prayers coming from your lips, your sinful lips. Everything you do and say will always be here with me in my heart, my mind, my greedy mind. I’m greedy and selfish, but for you,” I pressed my lips to hers, trail of saliva stick between our hungry lips, “I’m selfless. ”

I pulled away; the stringed saliva broke, and lifted my shirt off, once I undressed my jacket.

Eva’s eyes widened. “Are we doing it here, Adrian?”

“Sorry, sweet angel,” I said thoughtfully, “this is the only way for my mind to be sated for tonight. Let the angels watch us, the devils, too, or God. Either way, I don’t care anything else but you.”

As Eva’s hands trailed forward, a heavy knock pounded on the door.

Ah, shit.

Fuck him and his stupid interruptions!

I got off the bed, watching the doctor coming in.

The doctor delivered a strong medication with two large capsules for Eva. One is white, the other is orange.

“This is what she’ll take for the next couple of hours. The pain won’t go away unless she drinks it,” he instructed with a tiny plastic cup handled in his fingers.

I hesitantly took the medications. “So, how many hours each?” I asked, scanning the pills.

“Every four hours. She has to drink the white capsule first, then the orange. She has to eat a meal beforehand and I highly recommended for her to drink water. Based on the blood test we did, her health was unlikely fine.”

“Are there any nutrition she has to eat?”

“A hearty meal would be the first,” the doctor recommended.

“Then fruits and vegetables. Normally a fast food would do a trick to gain her normal weight fast, but taking small steps with healthier diet would be my main priority. Some fruits and vegetables contains in sodium and sugar. She needed her energy and a sustainable diet back.”

Nodded, I mentally took notes on the doctor’s suggestions seriously.

“Is that all?”

“No, that’s about it. She has to eat, drink plenty of water and a shower. If she wants to heal, she has to be clean. Sometimes leaving her in a bad condition with her purple bruises and fresh cuts and scars would cause worsen the damage, and we don’t want that. Have a good night, Mr. Rivers.”

And the door slammed shut.

From Eva’s wincing pain, I simmered her inflictions with a stroke, my voice lowered her as I stroke each within my fingertips chilled her; goosebumps scaled onto her sickly and bruised flesh. Soon, Eva’s high-strung alarm dwindled and her body sank deeper in a hospital mattress.

“Get some rest, Eva. You deserve this,” my voice quieted.

She did what I said and lulled her pain to sleep.

Once I gave a soft kiss planted on her cheek, trailing it down to her chapped lips, tasting her one last time before heading out, revealing Marceline sat and waited outside the lobby, crouch her spine forward, her hands cupped over her head now spotted me marching like a total maniac as I shut the door.

She immediately stood, embracing me, her body tensed up in vibration.

“Thank god you’re here. I got here as soon as I could. ”

In return, my arms stretched out to entangle the embrace.

“Talking to a doctor was a nightmare,” I told her, the sore lumped in my throat, dried and cracked, my breath drawn to a near whisper.

“What did he say?” Marceline pulled back, anticipating at my explanation, but I couldn’t due to my passionate kiss I shared with Eva, who was alive and well, and she was smiling at me.

Even now, she cared about my safety it nearly made me tear up on the spot, but I chose not to have her worry over my current sensitivity.

“He said that she’s going to be fine,” I answered airily. “She’ll need a long recovery.”

“How long?”

“Her recovery might take long,” I answered, perturbed at the doctor’s previous explanation. “Probably a month, depending on her bruises and wounds she has.”

The paused prolonged between Marceline and I.

“Marcy, I’m scared shitless,” I began, shivering at the air condition.

“My mind can’t stop replaying about this ordeal.

When I see her like this, seeing her felt like I’m seeing and approaching a lifelike doll inclining on a rocking chair at night or something.

Or one of those dead people laying inside coffins, looking at her through the coffin glass.

Or a waxed figure enclosed at a displayed glass at the museum.

Doesn’t she remind you of a life-size waxed doll, waiting for it to wake up? ”

Marceline’s tiring features contorted, but quick on returning back to its usual stoic expression. “Dude, you can’t be serious,” her voice was shaky.

“I am,” I replied. “I swear, I can’t stop thinking about how everything went wrong, especially for her. I worry she might pass away or something. I’m not good at talking to someone who’s resting on a hospital bed. Hospitals weren’t my thing.”

Back then, Dad would insist that I should become as a doctor, since I failed to claim my victories as an expert individual from sports category.

Dad had the medical textbooks bought for me, but I threw some in the fire, to keep me warm, and some I donated and got cash, but got beaten after Dad discovered what I was doing.

I only kept one book, one remaining book on my shelf, and it’s the human anatomy and bodily fluids, not for saving someone’s life but to leverage my dangerous strategies to an upper scale by studying and selling organs at the black market.

Black market is where I earned most profit than a pitiful allowance handed by him.

Since then, I wasn’t particularity fond over anything that bores me from a pitiful result.

Staring at Eva’s sleeping form, I was glad I didn’t choose a doctor career—hefty payment, but shitty long-term, surrounded by pretentious co-workers who kisses ass and bullied someone’s misery. The operation might go wrong if it’s under my care.

Killing and harming others to danger, jeopardizing my life was easier.

“Still, you can’t talk creepy shit like that,” Marcy protested, slapping my arm. “She’s still alive and breathing and she’s not in a freaking coffin!”

My shoulders flinched at Marceline’s protest. Whenever she protest or objectify, she’s unstoppable, angry as a hot pot.

A few nurses watched us afar as Marceline signaled them that everything’s peachy.

“But it’s true,” I protested.

She slapped across my bicep as she said, “Stop saying weird, creepy shit like that, you might freak out some people here. They’ll even believe you watch the most heinous crime documentaries as your hobby.”

Rolling my eyes at her motherly display, I withered.