hallucinogens.”
“Wrong. If I didn’t have drugs, then I’m crazy.” Angelina swayed and Rafe steadied her again, savoring the forbidden feel of her in his arms.
“You aren’t crazy.” His omission had put this doubt in her mind. He should have told her about her gift long before now. “We must talk.”
“We can’t talk. You’re a dream. One that I liked a lot better when you didn’t speak.” She eyed him suspiciously, then her face flushed as if she realized what she’d admitted. “See? I’m crazy. Give me a few days in a padded room and lots of whatever drugs they give crazy people these days, and maybe I’ll get over it.”
“You aren’t crazy.” Rafe dove right in. “You’re an Angel.”
“I can’t be crazy. I don’t have time. Too many people depend on me.” She dropped her face into her hands. Not tears, please. He did not want to deal with tears.
Her shoulders shook. He didn’t want to touch her. When he touched her, it led to problems and situations he needed to avoid. She lifted her head, her face a mask of laughter and tears. “This cannot be happening.”
“What went down with the alternative healer?”
“You are not here. I’m having some sort of psychotic episode, brought on by stress.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll just walk out of here quietly, calmly. Go home and have a nervous breakdown.”
“We can’t talk here.” Rafe looked around the sterile room. The vibe in the air disturbed him. The healer had been far too smug and Angelina had been unconscious. He had been up to something. Rafe would have to come back later, after he dealt with Angelina. “Why don’t we go to your home and discuss this?”
Her fingers on the door handle, she looked straight at him. Terror and worry mixed in her gaze. “Stay,” she said as if he were a dog. Or a particularly recalcitrant child.
“I can’t.”
“Yes. You can. You are my imagination I can make you do what ever I want.” She eyed him again and licked her lips. Her gaze skimmed down his body, and stopped at the juncture of his thighs. The gesture aroused him and made him the tiniest bit annoyed. They didn’t have time for this.
“At least I have good aesthetic taste. You are totally hot.”
They were not going there. “I’m not a hallucination.”
“Right, right,” she placated, her smile plastic and vacant. “So if you aren’t a hallucination, what are you?”
Rafe looked at her and sighed. He’d really messed this up.
“My name is Raphael.” He paused and wondered if her grandmother had ever mentioned him. Technically it was forbidden for Angels to speak of their healing gifts. But sometimes among family, especially those who carried the gift within them, the outgoing angel would share some small secret with the incoming.
“Raphael.” She tested his name, slowly.
“Call me Rafe.”
“This is pointless.” She yanked open the door, but Rafe couldn’t let her leave without him. He shoved the door closed and trapped her inside the room.
He needed to talk to her. Her home was difficult with the children there. The Angelic Realm was out. Although humans were allowed there, it happened so rarely the inhabitants made note of it. And the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to Angelina. Rafe thought about the images that sometimes filled her mind and knew exactly where to go. “You haven’t heard of me?”
“No. Apparently you’re a legend in your own mind.”
“Not a legend.”
She arched her brow in skepticism.
Rafe sighed again. “An Archangel.”
TEN
Suddenly she was on the beach.
Her favorite beach. Situated in a small cove, even in crowded California, it wasn’t very populated. In the distance was the hazy, familiar outline of a wrecked ship with a pier built over the water so beach goers could walk to the half-submerged vessel. The hardy boat not only refused to go quietly but demanded an audience. Waves crashed on the cold wet sand and seagulls
“Wrong. If I didn’t have drugs, then I’m crazy.” Angelina swayed and Rafe steadied her again, savoring the forbidden feel of her in his arms.
“You aren’t crazy.” His omission had put this doubt in her mind. He should have told her about her gift long before now. “We must talk.”
“We can’t talk. You’re a dream. One that I liked a lot better when you didn’t speak.” She eyed him suspiciously, then her face flushed as if she realized what she’d admitted. “See? I’m crazy. Give me a few days in a padded room and lots of whatever drugs they give crazy people these days, and maybe I’ll get over it.”
“You aren’t crazy.” Rafe dove right in. “You’re an Angel.”
“I can’t be crazy. I don’t have time. Too many people depend on me.” She dropped her face into her hands. Not tears, please. He did not want to deal with tears.
Her shoulders shook. He didn’t want to touch her. When he touched her, it led to problems and situations he needed to avoid. She lifted her head, her face a mask of laughter and tears. “This cannot be happening.”
“What went down with the alternative healer?”
“You are not here. I’m having some sort of psychotic episode, brought on by stress.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll just walk out of here quietly, calmly. Go home and have a nervous breakdown.”
“We can’t talk here.” Rafe looked around the sterile room. The vibe in the air disturbed him. The healer had been far too smug and Angelina had been unconscious. He had been up to something. Rafe would have to come back later, after he dealt with Angelina. “Why don’t we go to your home and discuss this?”
Her fingers on the door handle, she looked straight at him. Terror and worry mixed in her gaze. “Stay,” she said as if he were a dog. Or a particularly recalcitrant child.
“I can’t.”
“Yes. You can. You are my imagination I can make you do what ever I want.” She eyed him again and licked her lips. Her gaze skimmed down his body, and stopped at the juncture of his thighs. The gesture aroused him and made him the tiniest bit annoyed. They didn’t have time for this.
“At least I have good aesthetic taste. You are totally hot.”
They were not going there. “I’m not a hallucination.”
“Right, right,” she placated, her smile plastic and vacant. “So if you aren’t a hallucination, what are you?”
Rafe looked at her and sighed. He’d really messed this up.
“My name is Raphael.” He paused and wondered if her grandmother had ever mentioned him. Technically it was forbidden for Angels to speak of their healing gifts. But sometimes among family, especially those who carried the gift within them, the outgoing angel would share some small secret with the incoming.
“Raphael.” She tested his name, slowly.
“Call me Rafe.”
“This is pointless.” She yanked open the door, but Rafe couldn’t let her leave without him. He shoved the door closed and trapped her inside the room.
He needed to talk to her. Her home was difficult with the children there. The Angelic Realm was out. Although humans were allowed there, it happened so rarely the inhabitants made note of it. And the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to Angelina. Rafe thought about the images that sometimes filled her mind and knew exactly where to go. “You haven’t heard of me?”
“No. Apparently you’re a legend in your own mind.”
“Not a legend.”
She arched her brow in skepticism.
Rafe sighed again. “An Archangel.”
TEN
Suddenly she was on the beach.
Her favorite beach. Situated in a small cove, even in crowded California, it wasn’t very populated. In the distance was the hazy, familiar outline of a wrecked ship with a pier built over the water so beach goers could walk to the half-submerged vessel. The hardy boat not only refused to go quietly but demanded an audience. Waves crashed on the cold wet sand and seagulls
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