Guardian Angel (A Sample) (Chapter Two, page 1 of 9)


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Was she always such a knock-out?

Daimhin stared at her across the room. He had not seen her for several years. How old was she now? Quickly he calculated the years in his head - seventeen. She was only a few months older than seventeen.

He could not tear his eyes away from her. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading a threadbare book. He saw the pages curled in at several points. He wondered if these were the pages with her favourite quotes. He wondered what the story was about - he could not see the front cover.

He looked around her room and saw amused that she had moved on from everything pink. Her room had no particular theme as so many other teens had. There also were no posters on her walls. Instead, her walls were decorated with wallpaper covered in a multitude of little blue and mauve roses. The last time he saw anything this hideous was in the nineteen hundreds, somewhere around the sixties. The room was tiny and the noises from outside seeped through the open window. Her metal frame bed stood in the middle of the room, next to the open window. The wind pushed and pulled the curtains. The children playing in the road in front of her council house was rowdy as they played a game of football, using a black wheelie bin as the goal.

Her soft laughter drew his attention back to her. His eyes lingered on her lush mouth when her teeth bit down onto her lower lip. Her lashes were long and threw shadows on her cheekbones. Her dark blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail behind her head but was long enough to still hang over her one shoulder. She was so slim, his hands could span her waist. His palms itched to do just that. Her arms, bared by a short sleeved t-shirt were faintly sun-kissed, their warmth another temptation he wanted to touch.

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