Shadow Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 1) Becky Moynihan (read novel full .TXT) 📖

When I was empty and spent, I flushed the toilet and cleaned myself up. The shock had been replaced with a resolute calm as my survival instincts kicked in—far too late, but better late than never. If killing me was Lochlan’s end goal, I needed to be prepared. Even if I’d had a silver dagger with me, stabbing him and escaping this cabin wasn’t a smart idea. If I missed his heart, he would only pursue me and no doubt finish me off.

No, I needed information. Knowledge. An ace up my sleeve to buy myself more time.

I can handle this, I told my reflection, ignoring my trembling hands. I had to. No one could protect me now but myself. I could pretend that all was well. I’d been doing it for years.

I inhaled a steadying breath. In, out. In, out. Then quietly opened the door.

Not surprisingly, Lochlan was waiting for me when I emerged. He searched my face impassively for a moment, then paused. Something like concern flickered in his eyes, but it had to be an act. Maybe he’d been pretending this whole time, which made me feel sick all over again.

“Um, I think I’m going to lie down for a bit,” I started, relieved when my voice didn’t shake. “You’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t have told me.”

Nothing like a guilt trip to make someone back off.

He nodded wordlessly and let me go, but I felt his eyes on me the entire way up the stairs. Closing myself in the room I’d vacated this morning, I sat on the bed and waited. My only hope was that he would leave the cabin at some point out of hunger or boredom. With his vampire hearing, he’d immediately know that I was up to something.

Time wasn’t on my side though and I struggled not to tap my foot impatiently. Once the sun went down, the werewolf symptoms would probably flare up again.

Oh crap!

I gripped the bed tightly as a terrible thought came to me. What if my body didn’t care that Lochlan wanted to kill me and responded to him again tonight? Freaking fates. I shoved the problem aside for later, renewing my focus on the movement downstairs.

The afternoon slowly dragged by as I strained to hear. Maybe an hour passed, then finally—finally—he moved. It wasn’t his footsteps that I heard, but a snick as the front door closed.

Carefully removing my boots, I tiptoed to the bedroom door and cracked it open, listening for sound. I even snuck out and peered down the stairs. When I was convinced he’d left, I began my search. First the dresser, meticulously checking through the clothes without disturbing them too much. Then under the mattress and inside the closet. I scoured every inch of the room, but came up empty.

No problem. That would have been too easy anyway.

A second bedroom across the hall proved to be an unfruitful search as well. There wasn’t even a trace of Lochlan’s scent in that room, which made me wonder where he had slept last night. No luck in the upstairs bathroom either. I even checked the toilet tank.

Heading downstairs, I briefly paused at the front door and listened for footsteps. I soon turned and searched the hall bath, my movements becoming desperate. Nothing there. I ransacked the living room, lifting cushions and rugs. I checked the fireplace mantel and even bent to feel around inside, getting sloppy by disturbing the ash as my time ran out. It had to be here. I dove into the kitchen and pulled open cupboards and drawers, pausing when I found an exceptionally long and sharp knife.

I shook my head and slammed the drawer shut. It wasn’t silver and therefore probably useless. My stomach rumbled when I peered into the fridge, but I ignored the hunger pains. Eventually, I stopped to lean against the kitchen table and rack my brain. The paper could have fallen out when Lochlan drove me here, or while I was submerged in the lake. But I could have sworn I felt it shift against my skin when he had . . . when he had . . .

Blowing out a breath, I squeezed my eyes shut. But the memory persistently floated to the surface, just behind my lids—of his hand cupping my breast and kneading the flesh. I gripped the table as warmth flooded my body, weakening my knees. I struggled to dispel the phantom feeling of his hands on me and focus on what I suspected.

That he had discovered the plastic-protected paper inside my bra and removed the information I so desperately needed while I slept.

I should be furious at the invasion. I was. But also completely turned on at the thought of him slipping a hand inside—

“Gah! Where is it?” I hissed to distract my aroused body.

“Where’s what?”

I whirled with a muffled shriek, clutching my chest. Lochlan stood in the kitchen doorway, cell phone in hand. He slipped it inside his jeans pocket and my eyes shot to the spot. Of course. His pocket. I inwardly cursed. The knowledge I sought was probably in the one place I could never reach.

I had to play my hand carefully. I had no idea what Lochlan thought of the three dark princes story, only that he didn’t want Reid telling me about it. That had to mean something. It was the only possible weapon I had against a supernatural being so much faster and stronger than me.

“Oh,” I said, tucking hair behind my ears to hide my nervousness. “I lost something a friend gave to me. I thought maybe I’d dropped it in here somewhere.”

I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d reveal anything.

He didn’t. His face had returned to its usual impassiveness. I tried not to show my disappointment when he avoided the topic entirely by saying, “I take it you’re feeling better now?”

“Um, yeah. You just caught me by surprise earlier. It’s not every day you hear