Shadow Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 1) by Becky Moynihan (great reads TXT) 📕

could get out of him. Ignoring my words, he gripped my face in his gloved hands and peered deep into my eyes. “How. Do. You. Feel?” he enunciated slowly and with force. I felt the question seep beneath my skin and burrow into my brain. It demanded an answer. I had no choice but to reply.

“Hurt,” I snarled. The word was pried from my lips without permission, as if torn from a secret inner compartment. I bared my teeth as more words were forced from me. “I’m hurt that you’re doing this to me. I’m hurt that you lied.”

I heard him swallow. Felt his thumb wipe away a tear. “What did I lie about, McKenna?” he said quietly.

I clamped my lips shut, willing myself not to answer.

His eyes brightened to a wine red. “Tell me.”

Words I wasn’t prepared to share—ones that revealed how much I knew about him—pushed at my throat. They rose higher and higher, unfurling on my tongue. “Stop,” I gasped out, shoving down the words again. “I feel fine. Is that what you want to hear? I’m completely fine.”

If it stopped him from pulling words out of my mouth, I’d say just about anything.

A deep line formed between his brows. “How are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Resisting. How are you resisting me?” His question tugged at me again, seeking to unravel my self control.

Desperation creeped in and I blurted the first thing I could think of. “I don’t know. Maybe because you lack charm? Girls like that stuff, you know.” Crap, really? To cover up my stupidity, I deflected. “Why do you wear gloves?”

His fingers stiffened against my cheeks. Bingo. Pressing my luck, I reached for his hands. Before I could make contact, he released me and stepped back. I’d seriously hit the jackpot. If I pushed a little harder, maybe he’d let me leave this closet.

“Is touching me that repulsive to you?” I said, slowly stepping toward him. “And my touch? Is that equally repulsive?” I raised a hand to his face. When he froze, letting me draw close, my bravado wavered. He was supposed to retreat, not actually let me touch him!

But I couldn’t back out now, no matter how intimidated I was by his towering form in the small space. Fates, he wasn’t even human, and I was trying to touch him. What did that say about my sanity?

My heart thundered, probably loud enough for him to hear. My fingers trembled as they inched closer. At the very last second though, he pulled away.

Relief weakened my knees, and I immediately dropped my arm. But there was something else too. A tiny stab of disappointment that refused to be ignored. Well, too bad. I was ignoring the feeling. Because it was stupid. I should not want to touch Lochlan D’angelo for so many reasons.

“I’m not repulsed,” he replied a bit gruffly. Watching me closely, he removed his gloves, as if to prove his words. “But your skin can’t touch mine for the same reasons it can’t touch Reid Zimmerman’s. Remember what happened last time?”

“Uh . . .”

“After Reid touched your skin last time, you fell ill with fever.”

“What? How do you even—” Ah crap, of course he would know. He was Shadow Man. He’d been there the night of the bonfire party. He’d seen me strip off my shirt and mop my feverish brow. Not that I was embarrassed. Okay, maybe a little. Or a lot.

“Give me your phone,” he suddenly said, and held out his hand.

“What?” Not caring that I sounded like a broken record, I gawked at his extended limb as if it were a striking snake. “N-no way. You stalk me enough as it is.”

Without warning, he invaded my personal space, his body a breath away from mine. Before I could react, he slipped an arm around me and plucked the phone out of my back skirt pocket, all without touching me. He retreated just as quickly, saying, “This is so you can contact me. I promise not to call you unless it’s an emergency.”

Mouth slightly ajar, I stared at him while he typed in his number. The need to scream tightened my chest. The audacity of this guy. “Why on earth would I ever want to call you?”

He impassively met my steely gaze. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But if you feel unwell in the next twenty-four hours, call me. I’ll explain only what you need to know.” He handed my phone back, carefully avoiding my fingers, and reached behind him for the door handle.

“Wait,” I said before he could leave. “That’s it then? This whole man-handling me inside a closet charade was simply to give me your number? Un-freaking-believable. You know what? Screw you. I’m late for class.”

I marched forward, deliberately knocking my shoulder into his on the way out—which freaking hurt, by the way. What was he made of? Skin-covered titanium?

So much for confronting him about his alter ego. I was too upset to get into that right now.

“The teacher won’t notice your absence,” he called after me, to which I snorted. Did he forget which teacher this was? I paused outside the classroom to school my expression, then sheepishly slipped inside. I waited for Mr. Davis to stop his lecture and embarrass me in front of the class again, but he didn’t even look my way.

In fact, he didn’t seem to notice me the entire rest of the hour.

* * *

“Okay, whoa, my brain just fried,” Isla said, dropping her food tray onto a picnic table far from prying eyes and ears. She sank onto the bench and gaped at me.

I sighed and set down my own tray. “I know. I’m still having a hard time believing it.” We had opted to eat lunch outside today so I could unburden to her once again without being overheard. I’d told her everything this time, from the roses on the windowsill to Lochlan being Shadow Man. “Sorry if this freaks you out. I just . . .”

“Girl,