Angel Dreams (An Angel Falls Book 2)

by Jody A. Kessler

  “You’re totally right. I’ll tell her later. Hey,” I slip my shirt on so I can talk to him without the discomfort — even though I like it — and then I follow him into the hall. “Did you say you’re going out tonight?”

  “Yeah?” Jared answers with a deep questioning look printed in the lines on his forehead.

  “I want to go,” I say. I can’t believe what is coming out of my mouth. But even worse is that I can’t stop it.

  “No, you don’t,” he says with a huff of contempt.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Just then movement by the stairs catches my attention as my cat Ariel appears on the landing. Her green eyes meet mine for a split second and then she’s rushing me with all of her claws extended and a hiss that curls my toes. Before being shredded to bits, I sidestep the cat and give her a swift, booted sweep into the bathroom. As she slides into the tub I slam the door closed. Then I have to work at getting it to latch after Jared’s forceful entry. “Why do we even have a cat?” I say with disgust.

  The look on Jared’s face is one of utter disbelief as he looks first at me and then to the closed door. Hissing and growling emanates from within and a gray paw, claws extended, scratches at the floor.

  “You both need medical attention. Sooner than later,” Jared says with conviction.

  “Never mind that. I’m going with you, and if you don’t take me, I’ll tell Mom you’re shooting up meth.”

  “Crap, Jules! You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  “We’re going to The Edge,” Jared says as a mild warning because he knows I dislike the crowd there.

  “Perfect,” I say, and unexplainably it does sound perfect right now.

  Chapter Nine: Danger in the Wild

  Juliana

  “I need to hit up an ATM before we go in. I’m low on cash,” Jared says.

  “They’re not gonna’ charge you to get in,” I say as I pull into the parking lot of The Edge nightclub. Jared and his band are a local favorite here and cover charges don’t apply to him.

  “It’s not for the door, Jules.”

  “Whatever, shithead,” I say, not really caring anyway.

  Something like a knee bumps the back of my seat, not once but three annoying times in a row. Turning, I see Patrick, Corrine’s brother, staring out the window, his hood pulled up over a mop of shaggy brown hair. He shifts again and I feel a strand of hair pull out of my head.

  “Will you stop squirming around back there, asshole?” I bitch over my shoulder at him.

  “What?” he says, matching my snotty tone.

  I glare at him and then turn my attention back to parking the car.

  Jared and I followed Patrick to his house to drop off his car, a BMW. They used it to retrieve my Saab. In Patrick and Corrine’s driveway I recognized Travis’s silver BMW and felt mixed emotions. Confusion already reigning over my night, I didn’t dwell on either the fear of Travis inside the house, or the déjà vu that I had been there before. Then Patrick jumped in with us for the fifty minute drive to the club. My need to get out tonight and find a more stimulating environment is the only thing that seemed to matter. I did register Patrick calmly saying his dad wanted Corrine to come home as soon as she was done screwing around, but the message filtered into one ear and lodged itself into a place that held very little importance.

  “Hey, I know him,” I say, as I recognize Chris Abeyta walking into the front entrance of the club.

  “Hmmph,” Patrick snorts from the back seat, clearly unimpressed.

  I ignore his uncaring — who-gives-a-crap — grunt and open my door excited to go inside. Normally I would arrive at the clubs with Jared and his band. We would enter from the back, set up the equipment, and I would hang around listening and watching from the shadows until the band finished and Jared was done flirting with all of his groupies. I’ve never had the urge to mingle with drunks and swim through the sea of testosterone and pheromones. Tonight, ripples of eagerness course through me at the thought of dancing with some cute guy. The thought is instantly followed with disgust. I hate when slimy men hit on me. So why does it sound so intoxicating now?

  Patrick climbs out and I hear the thump of the car door closing. He shuffles up next to us, still hiding in his oversized sweatshirt and stares down at his shoes as we wait for Jared to finish his transaction at the cash machine.

  “Why are we dragging this baggage around with us?” I ask, and tip my head at Patrick.

  “Nice, Jules. What’s up with you?” Jared asks. “You’re sort of a rag tonight.”

  Another snort escapes from the hooded Patrick and then Jared continues. “He’s cool, so lay off.”

  “So when you say cool, you mean he’s hooking you up with drugs,” I say back.

  “Keep it up, Sis,” he warns, and gives me a dirtier than the floor inside The Edge stare.

  “I know how you operate these days. See you losers inside.” My heeled boots tap sharply against the sidewalk as I leave them standing under the neon lights.

  Raging drumbeats assault my eardrums as I enter the dark club. The crowd is more interested in drinking than listening to the band play, based on the number of people milling around by the bar rather than by the stage. As the song pounds on I can understand the need to medicate with liquor. It’s atrocious at best. I sincerely hope there will be a huge improvement with the next band, or I may have to shoot myself.

  Looking around the drab nightclub for anything of interest I catch a dark haired cutie checking out my long legs and short skirt. I know I should run in the opposite direction — this would be my usual M.O. — but instead I throw him a demure smile and find myself walking over to him and his friends.

  “Nice boots,” he yells over the music as he stares at my twenty eyelet boots with buckles and heels.

  When I originally bought them, the heels had looked cool. It had become an obvious mistake after wearing them only once, and they have sat on my closet floor ever since. Now they were perfect with my one and only short skirt and a black tank top.

  “Nice tattoo,” I say back, and let my finger brush over the partially exposed tattoo on the side of his neck. “What is it?” I ask, as I tug his collar open to see more skin.

  He likes me. I can feel the heat in him building. His blood moves to places unseen and very warm. My excitement blooms knowing how easy it is to reel him in. His eyes travel up the length of me until he looks me in the eyes.

  “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

  “Jules.” I don’t care what his name is as long as he keeps feeding me. What! Jules, walk away before you regret this. I hear myself telling me to leave, but I don’t. Panic seizes a portion of my insides like a deer in the headlights. I should scream or cry out, “What is happening to me!” but instead I keep talking like everything in the world is a perfect fuzzy peach. “Is it a snake?” I ask, and lean in closer to the guy.

  “It’s a snake if you want it to be.” His dark eyes travel down to my chest for a second and then back up.

  I want to be repelled by him, but instead I’m turned on. His aftershave is tart and it tingles inside my nose. It’s yet another previous turnoff that now has me curious for more.

  “Here alone?” I ask, as a short haired guy with eyes magnified by the farsighted lenses of his glasses watches me.

  “Dave? You gonna introduce me or what?” the one wearing glasses asks as he checks out my tiny outfit.

  He’s not as cute as Dave, but he is nonetheless showing interest in me, so I turn to him and smile. “It’s Jules. You guys like doing the group thing?” I ask. Let them assume what they want about it.

  The one with glasses smirks and I can imagine all too well the images floating through his baseball shaped head.

  He leans in close and asks, “It depends on what you’re talking about.”

  Tipping my head up at an angle so my words are aimed toward his ear I say, “I like you and your friend. We should all get to know each other better in the back.”
>
  I lower my eyes, feigning coyness, but in actuality I’m absorbing the energy of this horn-ball’s rising heartbeat and he doesn’t even know it. I sneak a peek at Dave and then the two of them, with sparkles in their eyes, practically trip over each other as they simultaneously offer to buy me a drink.

  With devilish delight I accept. “I’m up for just about anything.”

  A shot of something dark with a dab of whip cream floating on the top appears a few minutes later.

  “It’s called a blow job,” Dave’s friend tells me.

  “Yummy,” I say, after I down the creamy coffee flavored alcohol. “Is that what the two of you like?” I tease.

  Dave swallows hard and it thrills me that I have rendered him speechless. He holds up a beer in front of me. I take it from him and let my tongue lick at the rim of the bottle where a little head of foam is peeking over the edge.

  “I said, did you guys take shots too?” I have to yell over the insulting music. If I get them excited too quickly it may not fulfill my needs. What! What needs?

  Two heads nod in unison as they hold up their beers in a mini salute.

  “Great. Let’s go to the back. This band is terrible.”

  I grab Dave’s free hand and pull him through the crowd toward the back of the club where there’s a smaller more private room.

  “Juliana!”

  Leaning in close to Dave, I try to ignore whoever is calling me. I let my breasts press up against Dave’s arm as we squeeze through the crowd by the bar. The feel of his muscular upper arm is doing something incredible to me which I can’t explain. My body gets a rush from the contact and I need more. What is happening! Get away from these two. Do it now. But I can’t leave them. I physically can’t make myself walk away. This is crazy.

  “Juliana.”

  Someone steps in front of me, blocking my way.

  Chris Abeyta stares at me stony faced. “Interesting. Running into you here.”

  “I come here. You don’t,” I say.

  “Family obligations carry their own weight.”

  “Yeah? What family?” I ask. Chris looks amazing, different than I’ve ever noticed before. There’s a power around him which has me fixed. It’s not his size, he’s average in the height department, but the air around him is brewing with a dense and magnificent energy. It’s sucking me in and I’ll gladly go.

  Dave sticks his chest out an inch and says, “Excuse us, Bro. We’re in the middle of something.”

  Chris looks over at Dave and his overeager friend and then back at me without replying. He continues where he left off. “My cousin Philip is in the band. He wanted some moral support.”

  “Very nice of you,” I say, and let go of Dave’s hand. “I don’t want to insult your family but they’re horrendous, all but the drummer. Which one is your cousin?”

  Chris’s gives the slightest nod, eyes softening almost imperceptibly. A silent laugh ripples through him, crosses the few inches between us, and penetrates me with his inner strength. My breath catches for a mere second, but it’s enough. I must have him.

  “You didn’t insult him. Philip is the drummer.”

  Dave and his friend lean in to talk amongst themselves and some decision seems to pass between them. “Hey, gorgeous,” Dave starts.

  Before he can fully interrupt, I tell them both, “I’ll meet you two in the back. Can you give me a second? This is a good friend of mine.” A peck on the cheek as an incentive, and a few flutters of my lashes, and the two boys move off toward the curtain sectioning off the back room. They looked like they were pouting, but they left, and now I have a new toy. Goody.

  I take a long swill of my beer, my eyes never leaving Chris. I’ll take one of him over ten of Dave and his friend anytime. “Don’t you want a beer or something? It could help lighten your mood.”

  “I’m in a great mood,” Chris says straight faced. He ignores my suggestion for a beer and asks, “Where’s your other friend?”

  “Oh you’re downright jubilant, aren’t you?” I smile at my own joke. Then I lick my lips looking at Chris’s mouth. Soft lips, not too big or too small, and no noticeable four o’clock shadow.

  “Did you lose The Shadow for good?”

  He wants to know about Nathaniel. A stabbing sensation somewhere in the vicinity of my heart makes me wince at the thought of my Nathan. I desperately want to tell him he will be back very soon and everything will be fine, but my voice is overridden as I hear someone who sounds like me but isn’t me say, “Gone forever.” The ache hardens, but I’m unable to do or say anything about it.

  Reaching one hand forward, my fingers run along the edge of Chris’s vest. “Why do you always wear a vest?” I ask, as my fingers brush his undershirt. I can feel his smooth chest underneath.

  He watches me with stern eyes that match the hard line of his mouth. Chris has the ability to keep his feelings buried deep, but I can feel faint ripples of pleasure moving through him with my touch.

  “Will you come over here with me?” he asks, and starts to walk toward a less crowded area by the wall.

  More privacy is exactly what I want. The powerful Native moves with the stealth of a jaguar. Anticipation for what’s to come excites me in places I didn’t know existed. I chug the last of my beer and set the empty bottle on a table then move to follow my prey.

  “Has anyone ever told you how impressive you are?” I say and take his hand in mine. The same compressed energy I see around him flows out of his hand and gives me a rush. I bring our hands up by my face and give the tip of one finger a taste.

  His eyebrows rise, but still no smile. “Jules, what have you been doing since I last saw you?” he asks, while I play with his hand.

  I move in closer to his body and let the back of his hand rub the front of my skirt. My other hand is under his vest. “You didn’t answer me about your vest obsession.”

  “I will tell you why I wear a vest if you tell me what you did today.”

  “Playing hard to get, hmmm?”

  “Not likely, Juliana.”

  I feel him pull away slightly, the frown on his face hardening. I decide to change tactics. “You dropped your bottle of spring water. I saved it for you. It’s in my car. Would you like to go outside and get it?”

  Chris nods and then leads me to the exit, letting my fingers stay entwined with his. We leave the barrage of noise and step into the relative stillness of the dark parking lot.

  “You’re always so serious. I could help lighten your mood.” I say as I walk him over to my car.

  “I think I can help you out as well,” he says.

  “I know exactly what you can do for me,” I say, letting every insinuation flow out of me with my words. Stopping next to my car, I turn around to face him. I lean forward wanting his mouth on mine worse than I’ve ever wanted anything. He leans in and I can see the smoldering fire in his black eyes. Our mouths are about to touch when he turns his head. I kiss his neck and then wrap my mouth over his pulse and suck. Salt and heat penetrate my being as I get a small teasing taste of him. He steps back forcing a clear boundary between us.

  How can he stand there so calm and silent? My heart races with the thrill of being so close to my goal. “Do you still want your bottle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you get in the car with me?” I ask, and step closer to him again. “I need you,” I whisper into his ear. “Right now.”

  “Why don’t you follow me to my house?” he suggests.

  “No. Here is good.” If we hurry then I can go find Dave and his friend, I think, and my night will be even better. Noooo! I don’t want this! You do. Admit it.

  “No, this is not the right place,” he says.

  “You’re not a prude, are you? It’ll be fun, I promise.” I stroke the front of him as a token of what I’m offering.

  “Come with me to my house,” he tries again. “There is already someone inside your car.”

  “What!” I spin around ready to burst into flames beca
use my plans are being interrupted.

  The windows are slightly foggy but I can make out Jared and two others.

  “Juliana, come with me now,” Chris says in an almost demanding tone.

  His hand squeezes mine harder and now all the previous heat pulsing through me drains away to be replaced by repulsion. Fear grips me with multiple conflictions. I want to go with him desperately, and yet I want to murder him with my bare hands, which makes me even more afraid.

  “It’s all right, Jules. Come with me now,” he says straight into my eyes and the penetrating force coming out of him is like looking down the barrel of a shotgun, commanding and terrifying. Suddenly, I feel like I have to follow him, even as I want to run away. Help me, is what I want to say, but the words won’t come out.

  The car door opens and Jared steps out in a cloud of smoke and skunky smelling steam.

  “What’s up, Jules? Friend of yours?”

  “No,” I manage to say.

  “Your sister isn’t feeling well. I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Chris says, as he relinquishes my hand.

  “Yeah, man. I have noticed,” Jared agrees. “Hey, do I know you?”

  Backing up, I feel rigid like the freezing gears of a seizing motor, both mentally and physically, but I manage to open the car door and slip inside, landing on someone’s lap.

  Patrick complains with a few expletives as he wiggles out from under me. I raise my arm protectively as one of his boots narrowly misses my face as he slips between the two front seats and into the back.

  A moment later, Jared folds himself onto the other front seat and closes the door. Staring at the floorboards is all I can do to hold it together. Uncertainty and rage boil through my bloodstream but overlying everything else is fear. It’s the fear that has me frozen. Part of me, the real me — Juliana Katherine Crowson — is fighting and losing, and I am terrified. One second I feel like myself and the next I’m saying or doing something that isn’t like me at all. Jared’s searing gaze bores a hole in the side of my head, but I can’t explain to him coherently what’s happening to me. If I do nothing, then at least I’m not harming anyone, including myself.