In the Shadow of Angels: The Guardian Series 1 Read Online Free

play. The same storage house Henri took me to whisper in my ear and cover me with kisses.
    The sound of Emily’s soft giggle infuriated me. Hours I had spent, planning in what would turn into a celebration for Emily to shine, stealing the attention away from everyone else. I crept slowly towards the doorway, intending to scare the daylights out of them. An evil grin of delight spread over my face, thinking of their screams when I barged into the room.
    As children Henri had tried to scare us, talking of the beast that roamed our woods, feasting on the flesh and bones of children. In the entrance, I lowered myself, peering around the corner so I could look into the room, preparing to rush through the doorway.
    Emily lay in the makeshift bed we had made as children, her face turned toward Henri, who lay on top of her. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew what he was doing. He had done the very same just a day prior. I knew he was kissing her lips, deep and passionate, his need making him rushed and sloppy.
    The times Henri had brought me to the storehouse, he had placed me on the piles of blankets, cupping my head in his hand. He pushed himself between my legs, his kisses hungry and possessive. I kept his advances for more at bay, telling him I wasn’t ready. Henri waited for me, his frustration growing, pressing himself to me. I loved his desperation, but knew he would never push too far, whispering I was his and his alone and he would wait, forever if need be. One day I’d be his. I felt safe, protected, and loved like I had never been before, soaking in his warmth and desire. 
    My throat swelled, pain filling it, leaving me unable to breathe. My stomach lurched, my eyes glazed over, the tears out, running hot down my face. I stepped back, snapping a stick under my heel.
    “What was that?” I heard Emily ask.
    The thought of Henri touching Emily made me sick. Of Emily’s hands moving over him, tracing the places where mine had been. I gasped as loud sobs racked my body and stood hysterical in the center of our elaborate garden. Abigail had come running out asking what was wrong, her eyes fearful and searching. Once she saw my face, she knew the truth. We were no longer little girls that played house. She had seen us change, watched us grow.
    That night my mother was yelling to someone over the phone, pleading, her voice like I had never heard. Abigail was demure, the perfect example of a wealthy southern housewife. Desperation rang out as she spoke. In between my cries, I heard her talking to Daddy, their voices got louder as the argument grew heated and things started breaking. I stayed in my room, feeling guilty that I had caused this. My stupidity, my trust and belief that I was somehow special. That Henri was mine, and he loved only me.
    The next evening, Henri was gone and so was my mother. She had gathered us in the parlor, sitting us on the floral love seat. Emily, Henri, and I had our heads hanging ashamed, as we waited for what was sure to be a long and embarrassing talk.
    “I am leaving this evening for France to stay with Henri and his uncle. I will be there for some time.” Her lovely face was stone. My head snapped up, and I stared in disbelief. So shocked by her words I sat mute, looking at this hard, cold woman, her sweet and loving demeanor nowhere to be found. My mother was thirty-seven years old, her eyes that used to glow with youth and kindness only held pain and anger.
    With that, she had grabbed her bags and walked Henri out the door, not once looking back. Henri hesitated his face pained, looking at me.
    “I’m so sorry, Char,” he whispered before following behind my mother.
    Anger swelled inside me. How could she leave? Leave us? How could she leave to go across the world, when her daughters, her angels she called us, needed her?
    How could she take him?
    I looked at Emily, enraged. “You whore!” I screamed, slapping her face so hard she tumbled back. Nanny came to my side trying to