I dreamt about him, my dark knight in shining armor. He was a familiar stranger to me; it wasn’t the first time I’d dreamt of seeing him again, merely one of many since the night we’d met. And, unfortunately, it wasn’t one of those sexy fantasies where the handsome hero re-discovers his long-lost heroine, the love of his life, the one that got away, and says, “I never thought I’d find you again.” The one that ends with them making love and swearing their undying devotion to each other. The kind that makes you wake up breathless and horny, then reach into your bedside stand and grab your battery-operated boyfriend before drifting back to sleep or getting out of bed to face another day alone.
No, it wasn’t like that at all. He didn’t remember me. Or, worse, if he did, he didn’t want to admit it. It hurt to think I was so forgettable, but then again, I knew what we’d had was…nothing. Nothing at all. It’s what we both wanted at the time.
Liar. It’s what he wanted at the time. No strings, no morning after.
So now the dream itself was darker, the man still handsome, still needing to be the hero, but not looking for anyone, or anything. A beautiful, tormented stranger, blindly going through the motions. Everything about him radiated sadness and resignation.
I didn’t know who he’d come to visit at St. Michael’s, but in my dream, he was surrounded by two powerful angels, and at least a dozen hideous demons, circling him, fighting for control. As Danny and I watched from a distance, he sunk to his knees and pounded his fists on the ground, begging the demons to take him away. The angels fought for him. They looked at him, and then at us, begging silently for help. We waved our arms and shouted, trying to draw the demons away. We tried to run toward them, but our legs were frozen to the ground. The angels cried, and fell beside him. The demons laughed, triumphantly claiming their prize.
The darkness won. When the battle was over, we were released and forced to walk away, grieving, pleading with God to let him rest in peace. But the image of him, crumpled to the ground, his eyes fixed and wide, his face a mask of terror and resignation, chilled me to the marrow. He died in front of us, and I could do nothing to save him.
I woke up from the nightmare to see him sleeping in a chair next to Danny, and wondered what had changed him so much, in only a few short years, from a man in the prime of his life to a miserable, angry, broken stranger….
©2016 by Paula Radell. All intellectual property rights reserved. Unedited excerpt from Where Angels Sleep, a dark but inspirational romance for publication in early 2017.
More about Where Angels Sleep
Add it to Goodreads
Subscribe to my blog for exclusive future sneak peeks or a chance at an ARC when they’re available!
Thanks for reading!