by Lisa Medley
He presented it to Olivia.
“Thank you.” A slow, sweet smile spread across her face.
“Welcome.” Yep, a one-word miracle, that was him.
He moved to the fridge and extracted a giant covered pot full of leftover stew. Realizing he had no idea where the bowls were kept, let alone the silverware, he started on the left side and began opening cabinet doors and drawers, searching for his prey.
Success.
Inordinately proud of himself, he found a measuring cup and began hoisting great scoopfuls of stew into two bowls. Grabbing them up, he spun in a circle, searching for the microwave.
Where the heck was the thing?
He knew the others had used one. He’d heard it humming.
“Above the stove,” Olivia offered.
Jerking at the sound of her voice, he nearly sloshed the stew onto the floor as he turned to face her. Completely swallowed up by the robe, she looked like a pink Sno Ball snack cake with the creamy filling exploding out the top.
Edible.
A shy smile spread across her face. She was beautiful. The last rays of sunset penetrated through the window behind her, bathing her in a glow that had nothing to do with magic or Reiki energy. The red-orange light from the window created a halo around her white hair. Humor sparkled in her blue eyes, and while he had no idea how or why she’d triggered his color vision, still, he was grateful.
An angel, that’s what she was.
He swallowed hard and turned back to the stove. Yep, there was the microwave—right where she’d told him it would be. After shoving the bowls inside, he jabbed at the keypad, slammed the door shut and stood guard, watching the bowls spin around on the carousel.
When the microwave dinged, he removed the steaming bowls, burning a layer of fingerprints off on his way to the table. He set them down a little harder than he’d intended, brushing his painful fingertips down the side of his fatigue pants.
He retrieved two spoons from the third drawer he tried, and then sat across from her, pushing a bowl toward her. “Eat.”
She frowned at him. “You are very bossy.”
Funny, he’d been thinking the same thing about her only a few moments ago. He spooned in a great gulp of steaming stew.
“Where are my clothes, Kylen? What happened to my hair? She crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves of the robe so fluffy it was difficult to take her seriously. “Where are we, and how did we get here? What was in that IV? Were you drugging me?”
“Eat.”
“Not until you answer my questions.”
“You have too many questions.” He took another bite. “What are you, a reporter?”
She sat up a little straighter in her chair and gave him a surprised look. “Yes. Or at least I was…before I took a leave of absence.”
Figured.
“What beat did you cover?”
“Food…cuisine.”
He eyed her, suspicious of her story. Wasn’t there a saying about never trusting a skinny cook, or something like that?
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your pity. I do eat. Just not as much as I used to.”
He pushed the bowl in front of her, nearly touching her crossed arms as he tapped a finger on the rim. “Eat, and I’ll look for your clothes.”
Tilting his own bowl toward his mouth, he let the rest of the stew slide down his piehole. Damn, it was good. It amazed him how his own appetite had returned.
Spoon in hand, Olivia brought a tentative bite to her mouth. When her eyes drifted closed as she savored the taste, he was lost.
Chapter Eleven
“This is very good.” Olivia said between rapidly accelerating bites.
Pleased to see her eating, Kylen stood and started the search for her clothing.
Where in the world would Ruth have put them?
He combed through Nate’s room, searching without success until it occurred to him that Ruth might have washed her clothes. He knew where the washer was, since everyone in the house was responsible for taking care of their own laundry. Ruth did a lot for them, but she drew the line at being the “house mother for a bunch of reaper frat boys.”
Her words, not his.
His personal goal had been to avoid fraternizing altogether. He had no desire to relive the glory days with Deacon or make any new memories with Ruth or Nate. He had a job to do, plain and simple, and an end-goal in mind. Once the demons were finished, he would be, too.
He was counting the days.
Opening the dryer door, he peered inside and recognized the jeans and green T-shirt that Olivia had worn in the alley. He gathered the bundle in his arms and piled it on top of the dryer before nudging the door shut with his knee. He shook out the shirt before folding it.
Cooks Spice It Up was emblazoned with red and yellow flames on the green background. He was not impressed with the double entendre.
She should know better than to wear something like this around a bunch of men.
Homeless men, no less.
As he folded her jeans, he felt a lump in the pocket and reached in to extract it. It was a piece of paper that had been folded over several times. The washer and dryer had compacted it down to a frail lump of pulp. He carried it back into the kitchen.
When she saw him returning with her belongings, her eyes lit up.
“You found them! Oh, thank you!” She leaped up to claim them and pressed a chaste kiss on his check. Electric-blue sparks snapped between them, and she sprang back with a yelp, pressing her fingers to her lips.
“What was that?” she asked, her eyes a more brilliant blue as the energy flickered behind them.
“It’s complicated,” he said, rubbing his cheek and trying to ignore the heat radiating from her unexpected nearness.
“Explain it to me. You haven’t answered one of my questions yet. When can I go home? There were others here earlier, where did they go? Is this your house? If so, why do you go to the trailer outside? What happened in the alley? What—”
“Stop!” he shouted, with more force than he’d intended to use.
She cringed and stepped back from him, and he immediately regretted his reaction.
Ah, hell.
Raising his hand, he opened his palm between them and presented her with the wadded paper from her pocket instead of the answers she’d requested.
“Ruth washed your clothes.”
Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes as she took it gingerly from his hand. Blue sparks crackled like lightning across the surface of his palm as her fingers brushed it, and his cock twitched in response.
He couldn’t decide whether to bolt again or bend her over the table. Twisting his head side to side, his neck popped, and the familiar habit helped ground him.
Get a grip.
He watched as she tried to unfold the melted pages, tears trailing silently down her cheeks. The pages tore and crumbled. In defeat, she crossed over to the back door and pitched the lump into the trash can. Pausing with her back still to him, she swiped her eyes with her fluffy pink forearm.
At least the damn thing is absorbent.
“I’m going to go put my clothes on now.” She walked past him without making eye contact. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a broken thing.
Inexplicably, he wanted to reach out to her, wanted to scoop her up and comfort her. What he didn’t want was any more tears.
He ran his hands through his hair, raking it across his scalp.
Kara had not been a crier. Ever. Ruth sometimes shed a few tears in anger, but these? These were—heartbreaking.
Or they would have been if he’d had a heart.
He cleared his throat. “Welcome.”
As she walked away, her long white hair and bare feet were the only parts of her that were visible above and below the pink fluff of Ruth’s robe.
Brilliant, dumbass. Another one-word epiphany.
* * *
Olivia stared into the mirror. She didn’t even recognize hers
elf. Of course, her hair was…well, shocking. But her coloring was even more shocking, because her pallor was gone. She glowed and looked downright healthy. As in, two-years-ago healthy, before the diagnosis that had cracked and crumbled her world.
And her appetite! She had eaten that entire bowl of stew, and if the ruined list hadn’t upset her so much, she probably would have had more. She knew what the final items were, but the list itself had been the one tangible thing left that had meaning to her. Now it was gone. Ruined. One more sign that she was on her way out, too.
There was no way she could recreate the entire list. No way to remember all forty-six tasks that had already been completed.
In the long run it didn’t matter, of course. Losing the list didn’t discount her achievements or experiences, but the list had been a sort of eulogy. Proof that she’d lived—really lived, dammit!—even as she was dying.
She pulled off a piece of toilet paper, blew her nose into it and tossed it in the trash. The pink robe had to go. She looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in drag. Not that she had anyone to impress, and she was thankful for the modesty it provided her in front of Kylen, but still. A girl needed some dignity.
God, that man was infuriating!
Why had he even bothered saving her if he was going to be such an ass? And why couldn’t he be bothered to give her the simplest of explanations?
Sliding off the robe and satin gown, she tossed them onto the countertop next to the sink and eyed the shower. A shower would feel wonderful. Since Kylen didn’t seem to want to answer any of her questions, she wasn’t going to consult him on her every move. She reached out and turned on the water, letting the room fill with relaxing steam.
* * *
Kylen paced around the kitchen.
What was taking her so long?
Darkness had fallen, and none of the others were back yet. He itched to get after the demon who’d attacked Olivia. This one was a sure bet. As soon as he got back to the alley, he would be able to track it straight to its hole like a fish in a barrel. Killing this particular demon was personal now.
He could barely wait.
The water began to run in the bathroom.
The shower?
His cock hardened as a picture popped into his head of her dropping that pink robe to the floor, her body bare beneath it, and…a whole lot of shut the hell up! That’s what.
He spun around and barreled toward the back door. While she was showering, he’d have time to get weaponized and prepared for hunting. Surely, she couldn’t get into too much trouble if he left her alone for ten minutes.
When the others made it back, he was going to make Deacon and Nate leave for the hunt immediately. Ruth could look after Olivia. She’d certainly do a better job of it than he could.
As he opened the back door, his eyes landed on the wadded paper on top of the trash can. He stuffed it into his pocket on a whim and headed for the safety of his trailer.
* * *
Nate flashed into the living room and a seemingly empty house.
Where the hell is everyone?
It was well after dark. He’d figured they would be pissed that he’d been gone for so long. He’d had to be at the hospital longer than anticipated, but the guys in the lab had gotten the test results back to him in record time. She had some crazy, rare bone cancer.
It was a very disappointing prognosis.
She has to already know. Right?
He hated to be the one to tell people crap like this. She was probably in the system somewhere, but since he didn’t know her name, he couldn’t search for her chart in the online records. He’d managed to research the cancer from the medical database, though, and all signs indicated it was bad. Since she still had all of her hair, he assumed she either recently found out or wasn’t taking chemotherapy treatments.
He couldn’t wait to hear her story when she woke up, if she woke up. Deacon and Ruth had already explained to him why they couldn’t use their reaper Reiki to heal her. Apparently one-hundred-percent humans were too fragile for that sort of intervention. Occasional light jolts of energy were okay, but heavier, more extensive usage would fry their circuits like an egg.
Still, it seemed to him like it might be worth the chance, experimental though it would be. From what he’d seen in the cancer center, radiation and chemo weren’t much better. Sometimes the cure really was worse than the disease.
Walking into the bedroom, he stopped abruptly. The woman was gone. The IV was still hanging from the drip, but it had been turned off.
Where the hell was she?
What if she was wandering the woods alone? There was no telling what was waiting out there.
The bathroom door suddenly swung open and Nate spun around, hackles raised. His mouth dropped open and relief flooded through him. The woman stood in the bathroom doorway, blue eyes wide, and gaped at him.
She was dressed in the clothes she’d arrived in—jeans and a T-shirt. Only now did he notice the slogan on the shirt.
He smiled. “Well, hello there.”
“Uh, hello.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes moving past him to search the living room. “Where’s Kylen?”
Nate stopped smiling. Hell if he knew where the bastard was. Not watching the patient, that was for sure.
“I just got home, so I haven’t tracked him down yet,” he said, moving toward her with his hand extended. “I’m Nate.”
She hesitated before taking his hand and shaking it. “And do you live here, Nate?”
“Yep, with Ruth and her…man, Deacon.” Boyfriend seemed like a ridiculous word for Deacon. The man was too much of a badass. Baby daddy? He hoped to hell Ruth had told him. He was so done with other peoples’ secrets.
“So Kylen lives here, too?”
“Uh, yeah. He was supposed to be watching you.” He smiled at her again. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she frowned. “Fabulous, actually. So, does Kylen live in the house or in that trailer out back? Why did he bring me here? When can I go home?”
What was up with her giving him the third degree about Kylen? No doubt he’d stayed holed up in the camper for most of the afternoon. Couldn’t he even be trusted to watch a mostly comatose woman? How freakin’ hard was that?
“Was everything okay while I was gone? With Kylen I mean? He didn’t…he wasn’t…” Nate wasn’t sure how to proceed. He didn’t even know how much he was supposed to tell her. One thing was for sure: they were going to have to tell her something.
“A complete ass most of the afternoon? Yes, he was,” she offered.
Yep, that was Kylen in a nutshell.
Welcome to our world.
Nate chuckled. “Sorry about that. He’s all about being the lone wolf. Sounds like he saved your life, though. We didn’t exactly get a detailed story, either. Since you were there, we were hoping you could tell us what happened.”
Her eyebrows rose as she looked past Nate. He swiveled around to find Kylen standing behind him in all his “I am here to fuck you up” reaper glory.
Dude was loaded for bear.
That is, if you planned to do hand-to-hand combat with a bear.
He had two long knives—the word machete came to mind—strapped to both his thighs, and two more six-inch blades strapped to his inner forearms. Nate had no doubt the scythe was sheathed down the middle of his back.
If there hadn’t already been a dude named Blade, Kylen could totally have rocked that.
He looked intimidating as hell and was obviously scaring their guest.
“Going all out tonight, I see.”
“You need to get ready. As soon as Deacon and Ruth get back, we’re leaving.” Kylen said. Though he was addressing Nate, his eyes were locked onto their guest. Nate realized he still didn’t know her name.
Ignoring Kylen, he turned back to her, “So, Ms. Doe, what do we call you now? I was thinking of nicknaming you Snow White, but I guess I’m the only one who thought that was funny.”
<
br /> “Olivia,” Kylen answered for her. “Let’s go, Olivia, this is Nate’s room, and he needs to get ready.”
Obediently, she walked past Nate, heading into the living room to join Kylen. Now it was Nate’s turn to gape. Things around here were just getting weirder and weirder. What the hell had he missed? He’d been gone for a few hours, and now the situation he’d left was almost unrecognizable. The previously comatose girl was up and about, and Kylen had uttered more than a one-word sentence?
Had to be the apocalypse.
Before he could shut the door so he could change out of his scrubs, Deacon and Ruth appeared in the living room, right in the middle of the demon trap.
* * *
Deacon held a laughing Ruth in his arms, and he leaned in to kiss her behind the ear before lowering her feet to the floor.
As soon as the room came into focus around her, Ruth gasped and clapped her hands. “Oh! You’re awake! Thank God!” She rushed past Kylen and drew the white-haired woman into a quick hug. “How are you? We were so worried for you!”
The woman pulled away gently and cut a swift look to Kylen. “I’m feeling much better. I had a shower, and I’m happy to have my clothes back. Thank you for washing them.”
“Oh honey, you’re welcome. Come. Sit.” Taking the woman’s hand, Ruth led her to the couch.
“Kylen let me borrow your robe. I hope that was okay. I left it in the bathroom.”
Ruth looked over at Kylen, not bothering to conceal her shock—it seemed like the last thing he’d think to get for her. “Of course!” She took the woman’s thin hand in hers. “What’s your name? We’ve been dying to know.”
“Olivia,” Kylen and Nate, who was leaning out of his doorway, answered at the same time.
Both women jumped at the force of their combined helpfulness.
“Okaaaay,” Ruth said, wondering what she’d missed. Nate and Kylen always seemed to be bickering about something.
“Welcome, Olivia,” Deacon said. He narrowed his eyes at the other men. “You two ready?”