Dark Heirloom (An Ema Marx Novel Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: J.D. Brown
so it would heal properly.
“What the hell are you doing?” Leena snapped as I cradled and lifted the girl.
“Do not read my thoughts right now,” I growled.
Her face shattered for the briefest moment before she straightened her back and hid behind her composure. Her fierce eyes narrowed to slits. “Then tell me why we are bringing her with us?”
I sighed. If only I could.
Chapter 3
A salty-metallic flavor slicked the back of my tongue and a warm sensation manifested in my right hand. It spread through my arm, then continued over my entire body. My eyelids fluttered opened.
Red silk hung over my head, draped in elaborate bunches tied with gold threads, to a canopy made of dark wood pieces. My vision fixated on the fabric. Each individual thread became apparent, the pattern of the weave coming to life—over two, under one. I pulled my arm out from under a thick, red comforter embroidered with gold stitching—two stitches in a loop followed by one long stitch—and rubbed my forehead. What on Earth happened last night?
Where am I now?
I pushed myself to a sitting position. The silk curtains of the canopy obscured my view of the room. I stretched my hand toward the lustrous fabric, but gasped at the sight of an intravenous needle and plastic medical tubes taped to the skin. Blood ebbed from the thin tubes, into my flesh. Instead of feeling alarmed or repulsed, my mouth watered and my stomach grumbled in hunger.
A high-pitched beep jerked me from my thoughts. I yanked the curtain away, revealing an IV stand from which hung a medical bag full of blood. Next to the rod stood a box-like machine that beeped and whirred as it read and printed my vital signs.
Am I in a hospital?
A single glance around the room suggested otherwise. The walls rose twenty feet high, accompanied by a lone window in the center of the left wall, and ended in a domed ceiling. Cream and coral wallpaper covered the perimeter with a Victorian flower pattern. Red velvet curtains cascaded over the window, drawn back with golden rope tied to iron hooks. The ropes ended in tassels. The threads that hung from the tassels were thick enough that I could count them; sixty-two on the right, sixty-three on the left.
An antique vanity and mirror stood to the right of the bed, topped off with a bowl of water and the strongest smelling powder-scented bar of soap I’d ever encountered. In the center of the room sat a white wicker table and two matching chairs. To the right was a large armoire, painted teal. The wall opposite the bed housed a fireplace. The glow of the flames stung my eyes despite the distance. I blinked rapidly, but still the sensation was like staring at a light bulb. I glanced away from the fire, dispelling the feeling.
Looking around the room, I realized there weren’t any lamps and the view past the window showed a night sky. The sole source of illumination came from the fire, but that didn’t make sense. The room wasn’t dark. Surely, there was a light fixture somewhere. I glanced at the door; no light switch. However, there was a life-size statue of a man standing just in the shadows. The statue blinked. I screamed.
He jumped, eyes wide, then held up his hands, palms forward. “Shh.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle a gasp. Okay, not a statue. A man. I noticed his eyes. Green, very green. But this guy wasn’t the same one who attacked me. For one thing, his eyes didn’t glow. His hair, black, flowed past his shoulders. His pale skin held a hint of blue undertones, like he’d gone swimming in very cold water.
I let my hand fall away from my mouth. “Who are you?”
He smoothed his pale-blue hands down the black cotton of his shirt. The top few buttons were undone and the tail hung over his black jeans. “Do not worry, you are safe.”
I nearly melted at his voice. His accent flowed like silk as he rolled the soft R’s. I glanced at my lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat
“What the hell are you doing?” Leena snapped as I cradled and lifted the girl.
“Do not read my thoughts right now,” I growled.
Her face shattered for the briefest moment before she straightened her back and hid behind her composure. Her fierce eyes narrowed to slits. “Then tell me why we are bringing her with us?”
I sighed. If only I could.
Chapter 3
A salty-metallic flavor slicked the back of my tongue and a warm sensation manifested in my right hand. It spread through my arm, then continued over my entire body. My eyelids fluttered opened.
Red silk hung over my head, draped in elaborate bunches tied with gold threads, to a canopy made of dark wood pieces. My vision fixated on the fabric. Each individual thread became apparent, the pattern of the weave coming to life—over two, under one. I pulled my arm out from under a thick, red comforter embroidered with gold stitching—two stitches in a loop followed by one long stitch—and rubbed my forehead. What on Earth happened last night?
Where am I now?
I pushed myself to a sitting position. The silk curtains of the canopy obscured my view of the room. I stretched my hand toward the lustrous fabric, but gasped at the sight of an intravenous needle and plastic medical tubes taped to the skin. Blood ebbed from the thin tubes, into my flesh. Instead of feeling alarmed or repulsed, my mouth watered and my stomach grumbled in hunger.
A high-pitched beep jerked me from my thoughts. I yanked the curtain away, revealing an IV stand from which hung a medical bag full of blood. Next to the rod stood a box-like machine that beeped and whirred as it read and printed my vital signs.
Am I in a hospital?
A single glance around the room suggested otherwise. The walls rose twenty feet high, accompanied by a lone window in the center of the left wall, and ended in a domed ceiling. Cream and coral wallpaper covered the perimeter with a Victorian flower pattern. Red velvet curtains cascaded over the window, drawn back with golden rope tied to iron hooks. The ropes ended in tassels. The threads that hung from the tassels were thick enough that I could count them; sixty-two on the right, sixty-three on the left.
An antique vanity and mirror stood to the right of the bed, topped off with a bowl of water and the strongest smelling powder-scented bar of soap I’d ever encountered. In the center of the room sat a white wicker table and two matching chairs. To the right was a large armoire, painted teal. The wall opposite the bed housed a fireplace. The glow of the flames stung my eyes despite the distance. I blinked rapidly, but still the sensation was like staring at a light bulb. I glanced away from the fire, dispelling the feeling.
Looking around the room, I realized there weren’t any lamps and the view past the window showed a night sky. The sole source of illumination came from the fire, but that didn’t make sense. The room wasn’t dark. Surely, there was a light fixture somewhere. I glanced at the door; no light switch. However, there was a life-size statue of a man standing just in the shadows. The statue blinked. I screamed.
He jumped, eyes wide, then held up his hands, palms forward. “Shh.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle a gasp. Okay, not a statue. A man. I noticed his eyes. Green, very green. But this guy wasn’t the same one who attacked me. For one thing, his eyes didn’t glow. His hair, black, flowed past his shoulders. His pale skin held a hint of blue undertones, like he’d gone swimming in very cold water.
I let my hand fall away from my mouth. “Who are you?”
He smoothed his pale-blue hands down the black cotton of his shirt. The top few buttons were undone and the tail hung over his black jeans. “Do not worry, you are safe.”
I nearly melted at his voice. His accent flowed like silk as he rolled the soft R’s. I glanced at my lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat
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