Archangel of Mercy by Christina Ashcroft Read Free Book Online Page B

kitchen, but it wasn’t her kitchen. It was large, square and constructed of polished stone, and through the vast expanse of glass windows was a lush forest.
    Her stomach heaved and she clamped her teeth together before finally looking in
his
direction.
    His arms were folded and he was glaring at her as if this was all her fault. A shiver raced over her arms, cooling the sweat, increasing the nausea.
Was this all her fault?
And what, in any case,
was
all this?
    Her chest tightened and it became hard to draw in a breath. She knew on some fundamental level she was in danger of tumbling into severe shock but couldn’t seem to get a grip. Because there was nothing to grip on to. Because none of this made sense.
    “Drink.” It was a harsh command and she was aware of a strong hand holding the back of her head and a crystal glass pushed against her lips. Sparkling cold water trickled down her throat and she saw rainbows dance across the ceiling as sunlight caught the crystal facets of the glass.
    She choked, pushed his arm away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Either she was in the middle of the most lucid dream she’d ever experienced or this was really happening. And although she much preferred the dream scenario she had a terrible feeling this was anything but.
    “What did you do?” She wanted to sound tough, but her voice wobbled. “How did I get here? Did you pull me through the astral planes?” He must have done. Although how he’d managed such a thing she couldn’t imagine. Besides, why couldn’t she remember the journey? And why had she felt as if every atom of her body had shivered on the edge of destruction?
    He placed the glass on the stone workbench with great precision, and she got the impression that in reality he would love nothing better than to shatter both. Then he looked at her as if he’d never even heard of the astral planes, much less actually ascended to them.
    “The astral planes?” His tone confirmed his expression. “Of course I didn’t. This is where I live.”
    Aurora risked another glance around the kitchen and the forest skimmed her peripheral vision. Should she assume they were now in America? If so, they certainly weren’t in Manhattan.
    She wasn’t going to panic. There was probably a very simple explanation for her current situation and it had nothing to do with her having lost her mind.
    So he hadn’t pulled her through the astral planes. But somehow he had transported her from Ireland. She knew it wasn’t impossible. Her own mother had once done a similar thing on the night she’d walked into her father’s arms. But they’d had a prior psychic connection, years of shared dreams and linked visions. They were already, in many ways, irrevocably entwined together.
    And, of course, her mother hadn’t physically traveled miles across the world. She had merely taken one step that had propelled her from her own dimension into this one.
    Aurora had grown up with that knowledge. It was familiar, no matter how improbable anyone else might think it. But the thought of being catapulted halfway around the world within a couple of seconds was seriously . . . terrifying.
    She struggled against the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball and close her eyes. Denial wasn’t going to make any of this go away. Information, after all, was power.
    “Yes, but how did we actually
get
here?”
Did she really want to know?
    For a moment she didn’t think he was going to answer her. Then he exhaled an impatient breath. Anyone would think he found her questions completely unnecessary.
    “Teleportation.” He sounded deadly serious and her instinctive response to scoff shriveled in her throat. “Your body dematerialized in Ireland and instantaneously rematerialized here. But don’t worry. It’s unlikely you mislaid any vital fragments en route.”
    Teleportation?
Was
that
how he’d landed on top of her today?
    “And where exactly is your home?” Was that really her voice? She