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Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(3)

Author:Sally Thorne

“Are you still angry about that? It was weeks ago.”

“Yes, I am angry that my brother refused to take me somewhere to dance with soldiers and to meet the new commander.” She put her hand on her hip. “It’s my fault I’m considered odd, and superior, and a bit witchy. It’s my fault I’m unmarried. But it’s your fault, too.”

Victor ran a hand through his famous honey-red hair; the same color as hers. “I accept that I could do more,” he conceded. “But I draw the line at country dances.”

“Lizzie will want to go to them.” Her brother’s betrothed was currently packing her belongings, in preparation for becoming Mrs. Frankenstein as soon as possible.

Victor smiled at the mention of Lizzie’s name. “Only she could drag me to one. Be proactive. Pick a chap here tonight, and if he survives, you can bring him tea trays in bed, wearing your prettiest gowns.”

“Oh, certainly, much less effort than attending a dance.” She held it in as long as she could, but then cackled at the absurdity. “All right, husband, please volunteer. I promise you do not have to tell me a single thing about yourself.”

Victor was laughing, too, and gagging, in the unventilated back corner of the room. “Other women order lace and hat trimmings. My dear sister is tailoring a suitor, right down to his cock.”

“I hate you, Victor. So very much.”

Sincerely, he replied, “I love you, too.”

Angelika found a corpse she had not checked. Her pulse throbbed in her throat, and Victor’s teasing faded into the background.

Here lay a beautiful man, frozen at the climax of the fight for his life. He appeared incredulous to have died. His brow was creased between the eyebrows, his jaw was gritted tight, and his hands were half-curled in fists. He had faced death like a gladiator, and when she rolled up one of his eyelids, there was such a direct challenge in his brown eye that she felt true fright and released him. “You fought hard, didn’t you?”

She watched for his furious inhalation, which never came. It was terribly sad.

Tousling a gentle hand through his thick bronze-brown hair was very forward of her, but she could not resist. It was soft as tabby-cat fur. She noticed his smile lines and long lashes. He had neat fingernails, and all his teeth were present. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” she whispered to him. “Would you like to be mine?”

She was inspired in a new way. She’d never been somebody’s last chance before.

“Are you alone? Are you afraid?” She took a deep breath and had to muster her courage for this next question. “Can I do this for you? Do you wish to come back?” Her lantern flickered, and a breeze blew in, banging the door against the wall. Her skirts swirled around her ankles. Even Helsaw clutched his chest and barked an obscenity.

Angelika knew, deep in her bones, this dead man’s answer was: Yes, yes, yes. Bring me back.

“That was eerie,” Victor remarked blandly from where he was tapping his hands on a chest, feeling for evidence of fluid. “Who’ve you found there?”

She cleared her throat of sudden strong emotion. “Someone perfect. I won’t change a thing about him.”

“That’s not the experiment,” Victor argued. “My nemesis, Jürgen Schneider—”

She cut over him. “I know full well who your mortal enemy is.”

“Then you know that in his exquisite German laboratory, he’s reanimating entire men left and right.” Victor could not think of the man without a tormented growl. “I must go bolder and exceed him, and do what he said is impossible. My achievement must be made of many parts, all sewn back together, to be better than Schneider’s. Is everything present and accounted for?” He nodded toward Angelika’s beau.

Angelika looked under the filthy scrap covering the handsome man’s loins and considered what she saw. She had been reading a lot of anatomy manuals; possibly too many. What she saw lying on his lap was unremarkable. And upon closer review, his chest was trim and strong, but not the heavy padded muscles she preferred. “He looks . . . fine.”

Victor came over to assess Angelika’s claim. Bending the corpse’s joints, he said, “He probably died only today. He’s an excellent candidate, and his looks are almost as refined as mine.” He searched around for a mirror, and then declared, “Keep his head, and we’ll remake the rest.”

She followed Victor to the next table. Then she glanced back at the handsome man.

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