Angel (A Companion Book to Monster) (Impossible #1.5) by Julia Sykes

intended to exploit her moment of weakness and keep her talking.  Even if that entailed pissing her off.
    “See?”  I said smugly.  “I knew you weren’t a robot.  We just needed to expose you to some quality literature.  Spending some time with me will be good for you.  You can join the human race again.”
    My gentle teasing was supposed to make her bristle, and I anticipated her snappy retort.  But her eyes darkened, her creased brow communicating her desperation.
    “Can I?”  Those two softly-spoken words pierced me like a knife to the heart.
    “You know I can’t let you go, Claudia,” I said, trying to keep the anger from my tone.  I wasn’t sure if it was directed at her for shattering my moment of hope or at myself for fucking up again.
    Some of my fury must have been evident in my expression, because she dropped her eyes, her head bowed and shoulders slumped in defeat.  Despite my best efforts and intentions, I had frightened her again after barely uttering two sentences.
    I pressed on, refusing to let her retreat back into herself.
    “You should read Harry Potter next,” I said lightly, as though the bitter exchange hadn’t occurred.  “They’re supposed to be kids’ books, but they’re really addicting.  Besides, we need to catch you up on your pop culture knowledge.”
    I wasn’t sure if her slightly mocking grin was real or forced, but I decided that I didn’t care either way.  Seeing that little dimple in her cheek when she smiled was enough to take my breath away, regardless of whether or not it was genuine.
    “How did you become such a nerd?”  She asked.  “It doesn’t really go with the rest of your tough-guy, ladies’ man persona.” Was that a hint of true curiosity intermingled with her flippancy?
    “I’ll have you know that nerdy is the new sexy.” My wounded expression was overly-dramatic, both in an effort to engage her and to smother the pain of the true reason that I sought the escapism of fantasy novels.
    “Besides,” I continued more seriously, “I also do some work-related reading.  You’re not the only one who’s committed to their job.”
    She glanced over at my bookshelf, and I was satisfied to see a flash of real interest in her expression.  “You’re a carpenter?”  She asked.
    I grinned, probably more pleased at the respect in her eyes than was healthy.  “Yep,” I said with pride.  “A damn good one, too.” 
    But then a disturbing thought struck me.  Even though carpentry was a profession that my father had chosen for me – the Westies actually controlled the carpenters’ union – I truly did love my job.  I was able to lose myself in the joy of creating something beautiful; it was another way that I escaped from my problems. Losing my abilities would deprive me of the one aspect of my life that I took pride in.
    “Unless getting shot in the shoulder fucks all that up.”  I did my best to mask the depth of my concern, but I held my breath as I waited for her response.
    “You should be fine.  It’ll take a while for your muscles to fully heal, so you should take it easy for a while, but you should be back to yourself in a few months.”  Her tone was reassuring.  This gentle bedside manner was quite a departure from the haughty doctor who enjoyed bossing me around.
    My relieved sigh only further softened her features.  I was overawed by her compassion. 
    “Thank you,” I said, my voice slightly husky with emotion.  “For everything you’ve done for me.”
    She blinked, taken aback by my sincerity.  “You’re welcome,” she breathed.  Her grey eyes were looking at me as though seeing me clearly for the first time.  And maybe she was.  I never showed this level of vulnerability to anyone.
    I shook myself slightly.  “So,” I said casually, changing the subject in order to allay my sudden discomfiture.  “Tell me more about you.  What’s your story?”
    The hint of a frown touched her lips as her gaze