The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3

The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3 by Tiffany King Page A

Book: The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3 by Tiffany King Read Free Book Online
Authors: Tiffany King
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embarrassment. I knew I wasn’t a slut, but I was shocked at the contempt in his voice. What had I done for him to obviously loathe me as much as he did?
    I felt the sickness begin to spread and I knew from past experience, if I didn’t sit down quick, the emotions would over-take me completely, and then I would embarrass myself further. Pulling back, I tried to jerk out of his hold, but he only tightened his fingers around my bicep making me gasp in pain.
    “Please let go,” I pleaded, closing my eyes to try to stop the sickness as it began to engulf me.
    “Oof,” I heard him grunt.
    I felt his fingers slide off my arm; I opened my eyes in relief. I was shocked to find Matt on his knees in front of me. Mark was standing over him with a deadly look on his face. He had the fingers that had been pressed around my arm bent completely back.
    “If you ever touch her again, I will kill you,” he said in a quiet lethal voice. “If you even look at her, you will regret it, do you understand me?” To emphasize his point, he pushed Matt’s fingers back even further.
    Matt let out a whimper of pain.
    Mark abruptly released his hold. “Get to class. Now ,” he threatened.
    Matt got to his feet. With one last dirty look at both of us, he was gone.
    Mark and I stood there for a moment. Then I felt the wave return, I knew I was going to be sick. I needed to get to a bathroom, and quick. Turning away, I fled, barely making it to the toilet before I retched horribly. Everything I ate that day insisted on coming up, until eventually, I was left heaving out nothing. When the wave passed, I rested my forehead on the side of the stall.
    “What can I do?”
    I cracked my eyes open. Oh God, he had followed me into the bathroom. I wanted to die of mortification. I didn’t want him to see me like this.
    “Water,” I croaked.
    “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
    I rose on shaky legs and headed to the sink. Turning the cold water on, I cupped my hands and splashed water on my face. My cheeks were deep red and burned painfully.
    “Did he hurt you?” Mark asked, as he handed me a bottle of water.
    “No, I got sick because my emotions overtook me.”
    “Is it always like that?” he asked, concern now coloring his words.
    “It used to be, but over the years I’ve learned how to control it. This was different; it was a combination of feelings. I was embarrassed, scared, and very angry. Plus, because he was touching me, I got to deal with all of his loathing feelings. When I have that many emotions, it’s hard to fight back the sickness,” I said weakly. My body felt like it had gone through a ringer.
    Mark lightly grabbed onto my elbow and guided me down the hall to an unused classroom. He helped me to a desk and sat across from me with concern still etched on his face.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, rubbing the side of my face. “Do you need anything else?”
    I rested my pounding head against the palm of his hand. His touch was instantly soothing and the pounding receded to a dull throb.
    “He’s going to go to the Dean,” I muttered.
    “No, I don’t think he will. He doesn’t want to look like a weakling. He’s not going to admit to anyone that I got the better of him. He may try to get revenge in one way or another, but I’m pretty sure he is smart enough to stay away from you from now on.”
    “I’ve never seen anyone look at someone with such menace. You looked like you could have killed him.”
    “I wanted to. It was all I could do to control my rage. I have never felt that way. I can’t explain what it did to me to see his hands on you and to hear you pleading for him to let you go,” he said.
    I could still feel the anger radiating off of him. I placed my hands on his face to soothe him. After a moment, I could feel the tension sliding away from his body. And with one last shudder, the last of his anger left as I dropped my hands.
    “It’s a good thing I don’t have a sixth period class,” he

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