Below is a short excerpt from Emma, Dangerous. I hope you'll join me as I share this great book!
Emma, Dangerous by Dellani Oakes – Part 1
The Rob Zombie song slammed into his brain as his eyes tried to discern shapes through the drug induced haze. His head felt like it was full of molten lava threatening to erupt through his mouth any second. He was looking for something—no someone. That's why he came, stayed, overdid it—again.
Sammy stopped the slow, shuffling walk, leaning against the wall. Stumbling forward, he fell over downed bodies. He pawed at them before painfully levering himself upward. With a flash of recognition, he realized he had inadvertently found the person he sought.
"Emma." He nudged her, but she didn't respond. "Em?"
Fear gripped him as he searched for her pulse. It was slow but steady. She was only half dressed, the clothing on her lower body gone. The smell of sex lingered around her and he groaned.
"Not again, Emma. We can't go through this again, babe. When are you gonna admit, you've got a problem?" I've got a problem too, he thought. Maybe he said it out loud. He didn't know anymore.
Sam stood, his legs shaking, then bent over to pick her up. How many times had he done this? How many more times would he have to before she learned her lesson? Would one of them have to die for the other to get the idea that what they did was self-destructive and stupid?
"Come on, baby."
He lifted again, his feet slipping in something. He didn't have to look to know that it was vomit. Emma's breath smelled vile, and he knew it was hers.
"Come on," he said again as he more or less got her to her feet.
Her top was long enough to cover the fact that her lower half was bare. Making her as presentable as he could, not that anyone would notice or care, he half carried her to the door. When they hit the outside, it was raining. It was the cold, bone chilling rain of mid-winter. He used to love the rain, but too many mornings waking in the front yard in a thunderstorm had cured him. Or maybe it was the many nights leaving parties in weather like this, he reminded himself.
"Why do we do this, Emma? We swore we'd give it up." I did, you didn't. Like all her promises—broken.
Had she ever kept a single promise to him? That thought kept him going as he struggled down the steep incline of the driveway. His car was parked hurriedly, nose first in the ditch. He hadn't realized what a sharp angle he was at. The door wouldn't stay open. Getting her in the car would be difficult.
Sammy set Emma down on the wet ground. She was soaked already, a couple more minutes wouldn't make any difference. She giggled as the cold, wet ground embraced her. He backed his car into the road, leaving it running as he put her in the back seat. Driving carefully, he headed to the hospital. How often had he made this trip with her? So often that he didn't have to explain to the ER personnel anymore. They knew the drill.
He sat in the uncomfortable waiting room chair as the orderly wheeled Emma to the back on a gurney. Head on hands, propped on knees, he hunched over. Tears warmed his cheeks as he waited for the news. It was never quite as bad as he anticipated—he could hope the same held this time. Prayer didn't come easily to a boy like Sammy, but he tried for Emma's sake.
Someone came over and he smelled coffee and hot chocolate. A woman he didn't know sat beside him. She wasn't dressed in scrubs, but in a colorful, flowing dress. She wore a hospital name tag, but his tear filled, drug blurred eyes couldn't read it.
"You look like a man who needs," she didn't specify what.
Sam took in details slowly. She was tall, almost six feet. Her skin was a rich, coppery brown. Her black hair was in tight, intricate rows on her head. Beads of a dozen colors clicked and clattered around her elegant, high cheek-boned face. Her eyes were a luminescent, silver gray, her lips full. She could have been 40 – or 20 or 60. There was an agelessness about her. Her smile warmed him more than the cup she pressed into his hands.
"I'm Rosalee," she murmured. Her voice held the flavor of the islands, but Sammy couldn't place which one. "And you are?"
"Sam."
©2020 Dellani Oakes
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