Protected in Darkness (Misplaced Halos, 1)

by Nicole Edwards

  Her nervousness was endearing.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked, clearing the three feet to the living room.

  “I bought lasagna. It’s frozen, but … well, it’ll take about an hour.”

  “Lasagna sounds perfect.” He would’ve been open to eating raw meat if that was what she offered him.

  While she padded to the other side of the island that separated her kitchen from the living room, Obsidian headed for the red sofa, ensuring he had a view of both the windows and the door. As well as Penelope.

  “This is a nice place.”

  Penelope glanced back over her shoulder as she punched buttons on the oven, pride making her face glow. “Thanks. It’s the first place I’ve had all to myself. A little small, but I like it.”

  It suited her. The furniture was minimal, but it matched. The few knickknacks she had held a gothic flair, catering mostly to angels and fairies. He paused next to a two-foot-tall statue that looked remarkably like Acadia. Right down to the wings that resembled snowflakes.

  Obsidian picked up a picture frame on the end table, stared at it. Penelope was standing beside a man, the Las Vegas sign behind them. They were both mugging for the camera. “This your brother?”

  “Oliver. Yes. We took that back when I moved here.”

  Though he knew all the details, Obsidian still asked. “Is he older or younger?”

  “My twin, technically four minutes younger, though he sometimes thinks he’s older.”

  Aside from their light hair and golden eyes, there weren’t many similarities between them. Penelope was a good six inches shorter than Oliver, her features softer, more delicate.

  “Do you spend time with him?”

  “Not really. We talk on the phone every now and again, text every few days. Even before he started dating Seraphina, we didn’t spend a lot of time together. Believe it or not, we’re polar opposites.” Penelope opened the oven, shoved in a pan, then closed it. “He’s the life of the party. I’m more of a homebody.”

  Penelope joined him in the living room, carrying two glasses of wine. She passed one over, then took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. She pulled her legs up underneath her as she angled her body toward him.

  “Do you work nights?” she asked.

  “I do, yes.”

  “But not tonight?”

  “Every now and again I wrangle some time off.” Obsidian took a sip of wine, pulled the glass back and looked at it. The fruity taste surprised him.

  “Sorry, it’s the cheap stuff. Not quite the same caliber as what we had this morning.”

  He held her gaze. “If you’re serving it, it’s perfect.”

  Her cheeks turned a lovely pink.

  In an effort not to stare, he peered around. “What do you usually do on your nights off?”

  “Mostly chill, watch TV. Read.” She nodded toward the end table. “I was reading when you got here.”

  He picked up the hardback book. “What exactly is a Dark Hunter?”

  Penelope grinned. “Basically, an immortal who protects humans from Daimons.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Sherrilyn Kenyon’s one of my go-to authors. I love that series.”

  He set the book down.

  She shifted, as though nervous. “Do you read?”

  “Not as much as I used to,” he admitted.

  When Penelope lifted her wineglass to her lips, Obsidian noticed a scratch on her arm, roughly two inches long and not very deep. Seeing it marring her perfect skin bothered him.

  “Something happen?”

  She turned her arm over, twisted her wrist around, glanced at the red mark, frowned.

  “Huh. I must’ve gotten that this morning.”

  “This morning?”

  Her eyes returned to his face. “The weirdest thing happened. I went to the grocery store to grab a few things. When I came out, I was nearly run over in the parking lot. I actually thought I was a goner, but … right before I was certain the car was going to hit me, I was moved out of the way.”

  Every inch of him tightened with barely restrained fury. He knew there was a target on her back but thinking that the demons had gotten close to her made him see red. Good thing she couldn’t see his eyes. No doubt they were glowing brightly.

  “Maybe you got that when you hit the ground?” he said, working to keep the growl out of his voice.

  “But I didn’t. I didn’t fall, didn’t stumble. Something moved me.”

  Sitting up straight, Obsidian narrowed his eyes, though she couldn’t see them behind his sunglasses. “Something?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. Something moved me out of the path of that car seconds before I would’ve been plastered to the pavement.”

  “What time was this?”

  She shrugged. “A little after eight, I guess.”

  He made a mental note to follow up with the guardian angel. Although Reidar hadn’t mentioned the situation, Obsidian could only assume Stig had intervened. The male deserved his gratitude, but he also needed to know Obsidian expected to be informed of these situations. ASAP.

  “I thought I’d imagined it.” Penelope turned her arm over again, studied the scratch. “It looks like I’m not crazy after all.” She looked back at him, nodded in his direction. “Do you wear those sunglasses all the time?”

  “Sensitivity to light.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze darted to the lamp dangling overhead. “Would you like me to turn it off?”

  “No. It’s fine.” Not like he could take them off and reveal the fact that his silver eyes glowed naturally. The lamp merely gave him an excuse because his eyes were sensitive to light.

  “Well, if you change your mind…”

  He wouldn’t.

  Feeling the need to find a safer subject, Obsidian glanced back at the book. “Tell me more about this Dark Hunter stuff.”

  AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, THEY were sitting at her kitchen island, sharing dinner and trading stories. Penelope had been enjoying the interaction, the easy conversation.

  “It’s true.” She giggled. “I didn’t mean to call him out like that, but I did. I remember the way his eyes blazed with anger. He hadn’t been too happy that I’d confronted him in front of the entire class, but I couldn’t help it. I mean, what mythology professor can’t remember the name of Zeus’s father?”

  “Cronus,” Obsidian said.

  She pointed her fork at him, grinned. “Exactly. He said it was a momentary lapse. I call bullshit. Honestly, I think the guy was hitting the bottle before class. So you know about the Greek gods?”

  “Not really. But I’ve got a dog named Zeus. Back when we were picking a name for him, I got an earful about Greek mythology.”

  “A dog?” The idea warmed her.

  “Two, actually. Zeus and Aphrodite. They’re at home right now.”

  Obsidian’s smile held her captivated, and the warmth in his voice when he spoke of his animals made her smile in return.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Do you have any crazy college stories?”

  He shook his head. “Didn’t go to college.”

  “It’s not for everyone. My brother gave up after two semesters. Ended up here a few days after.” She pushed her plate away, wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Would you like some more?”

  “I’ll get it.” Obsidian got to his feet and moved around the island to dish more lasagna on his plate.

  For such a large man, he was graceful, as though every move was choreographed.

  Before he returned, he walked over to the refrigerator, pulled out the wine. After refilling her glass, he returned the bottle and took his seat on the barstool beside her.

  Penelope couldn’t resist watching him. There was something innately sexy about him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the sheer size of him. Until Obsidian had shown up, she’d considered her apartment a relatively decent-sized space. With him here, it felt small, cramped. Even the oversized island felt min
iscule. He just took up so much real estate.

  And boy, could the man eat. He was on his third serving, each one at least twice what she’d scarfed down, and she was stuffed.

  “Do you mind me asking where you live?”

  Obsidian peered over, held his fork suspended. “I’ve got a house in Colorado.”

  A bit vague, but she’d gotten quite a bit of that from him tonight. It was as though he preferred to talk about her. Not that she minded. His curiosity made her feel important, like he cared about her and what she had to say. Granted, that was likely the wine talking. She was on her third glass and feeling no pain.

  Once he was finished and pushed his plate away, Penelope got to her feet and grabbed their plates. Walking around to the sink, she flipped on the water, began washing them, sneaking quick glances at him every now and again.

  “I would’ve done that,” he said, his attention on her as he lifted his wineglass.

  “I don’t mind.” It gave her something to do with her hands.

  For the better part of the evening, she’d been fidgety, nervous. Since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date, it wasn’t surprising. Not that she was disappointed by Obsidian’s impromptu arrival. It was as though he’d been reading her mind.

  Her gaze swung to him and she smiled, recalling the way he’d responded to her thought about bringing chicks to his hotel room. She’d thought about that endlessly, and she knew she hadn’t said the words aloud, yet he’d answered as though she had. What if he could read her mind?

  She barely held back the laugh as she shifted her attention to the book on the end table. Clearly she was confusing fantasy with reality.

  Obsidian’s phone rang, his head turning toward it. Rather than silence it like he had the other times it had rung, he reached for it.

  “Excuse me for a minute.”

  Penelope nodded, watched him get to his feet and stroll into her bedroom, ducking his head slightly as he moved through the doorway.

  The thought of him being in there made her body flush. He was simply seeking privacy, but it seemed intimate. She hadn’t had the chance to make her bed since his impromptu arrival. And that was rare for her. The only time she ever skipped the step was on her nights off. In case she opted for a nap.

  After hand-washing the few items they’d used, Penelope turned off the water and grabbed the dish towel. She could hear Obsidian talking but couldn’t make out the words. The language he spoke … she didn’t recognize it. Then again, she didn’t know much about languages. She’d taken French in high school but couldn’t speak enough to do anyone any good.

  Focusing her efforts on putting away the dishes, Penelope smiled because, for the first time in a really long time, she was happy. Genuinely happy. Tonight had been nice, having dinner with someone, sharing conversation. It was easy with Obsidian.

  Sure, she was nervous around him, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. The butterflies in her stomach weren’t on a rampage, but they were making themselves known. But most importantly, she wasn’t overwhelmed by emotions. Obsidian’s were still shielded, and she didn’t have to worry about feeling the repercussions of his answers should she ask the wrong question.

  “I’m sorry to eat and run,” Obsidian said from behind her.

  Penelope shrieked, surprised by his return. She hadn’t heard him come back into the room.

  Turning to look at him, she laughed off the shock. That died in her throat when she realized how close he was. Her thoughts instantly reverted to the kiss they’d shared in the elevator. She wanted him to kiss her again.

  Obsidian held up his phone. “Duty calls.”

  “Sure. Yeah.” Penelope stared up at him, wishing for the thousandth time that she could see his eyes.

  “When’s your next night off?” he asked, tucking his phone away.

  “Thursday. I’m off Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

  That sexy smirk had her staring at his mouth.

  “And we’re still on for breakfast Thursday morning?”

  Penelope nodded, swallowed when he took a step closer.

  “Thank you for dinner.” His words rasped over her skin like a physical touch.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She inhaled sharply when his hand lifted, long fingers gliding over her neck as he moved her hair back, his thumb brushing the underside of her jaw. It was such an intimate move, one she could so easily get used to.

  “I’m going to kiss you again, Penelope.”

  Yes, please.

  Obsidian leaned down, his warm hand curling around her neck. She could feel him watching her from behind those dark lenses. Penelope shifted up on her toes, trying to meet him halfway. When his lips met hers, all thought fled. She sighed, leaning into him. His other hand moved to her lower back, pulling her closer, holding her there while his tongue dipped into her mouth, sliding against hers. Every nerve ending in her body came to life, dancing a jig, warming her from the inside out.

  His lips were soft, his skilled tongue taking control. His dominance was subtle yet unmistakable. The man could kiss, and the sensuality of it made her want more. To feel his hands on her skin, his big body covering hers. Hell, she’d settle for feeling his bare skin against her palms.

  Somehow, she managed to rein in her thoughts, to focus on the kiss. The same couldn’t be said for her hands. She reached for Obsidian, her fingertips grazing his smooth cheeks, then on to the soft bristle of his hair. Her thumbs glided over his ears as she wound her arms around his neck, trying to get closer. It was a wanton move, but in that moment, she didn’t have the brain power to be concerned.

  The dark rumble in his chest made her sex clench, her thighs squeezing together to stave off the desire.

  The next thing she knew, Obsidian lifted her off her feet. Her butt met the granite countertop, their lips never separating. The new position brought her closer to his mouth, the position far more comfortable. Penelope moaned softly as his lips caressed hers, his tongue taunting and teasing. She tried to pull him closer, but he was a mountain and she was a breeze. He kept himself in place, not quite giving in to whatever was transpiring between them.

  The same could not be said for her. Penelope was falling. Rapidly. Everything about him spoke to her.

  When his lips separated from hers, they were both breathing hard. Embarrassment at her behavior chilled her, made her realize how needy she’d been. She barely knew this man, and here she was, practically climbing him in an effort to get more.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Obsidian whispered, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

  She tried to look away, to hide her shame, but he kept his hand on her neck, his long fingers keeping her from turning her head.

  “You’re so sweet,” he said softly, pulling her closer as his arms moved around her.

  Penelope buried her face in his chest, inhaled his delicious scent. A rich, musky fragrance mixed with what she assumed was fabric softener. The combination made her light-headed. His big arm curled around her neck, his palm cradling her head. It was a move that felt far more intimate than anything she’d experienced before. As though he was keeping her within the protection of his arms. She sighed against him.

  Obsidian finally released her and she hopped down from the counter, straightening her T-shirt, messing with her hair, anything to keep her from reaching for him again.

  “What’s your cell phone number?” Obsidian prompted, his phone in his hand.

  Penelope rattled it off.

  A second later, her phone rang but cut off almost instantly.

  “Now you have mine.”

  She nodded, followed him to the door.

  “Good night, Penelope.”

  “Good night.”

  The kiss he pressed to her lips was soft, chaste, but it did nothing to diminish the heat flooding her veins.

  Obsidian studied her face once more before he opened the door and slipped out. She closed and locked it behind him, then leaned back, her fingers to
uching her lips.

  She could still feel his mouth on hers long after he was gone.

  Chapter Six

  Wednesday, July 24, 2019

  OBSIDIAN STARED AT THE GUARDIAN ANGEL, CONFUSED by the conversation they’d just had. “You weren’t there? At the grocery store when she was nearly run over?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  At least the male had the sense to appear remorseful. Had he been flippant, Obsidian couldn’t have promised Stig would leave the house in one piece.

  “Do you have a backup?”

  Stig shook his head. “I wish. We’re so overloaded right now it’s ridiculous. It’s a wonder I haven’t lost more than two souls in the past decade. I can tell you, it wasn’t from anything I’ve done. The humans are as good as on their own at the rate we’re going.”

  Obsidian paced from one side of the small room he’d commandeered as his office to the other. “So if you didn’t come to her aid, who did?”

  “That would be me.” The disembodied voice sounded seconds before Michael appeared.

  Stig inhaled sharply, and for a second, Obsidian thought the angel would drop to his knees before the archangel.

  “Leave us,” Michael ordered, not giving the guardian angel a second glance.

  “Of course, your grace.” In a flash, Stig was gone.

  Though he wasn’t fond of Michael’s impromptu arrivals, Obsidian couldn’t find it in him to give him hell for it. In fact, he stood stone-still, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the male.

  “I’m forever in your debt,” he told the archangel.

  “You’re in my debt no matter what.” Michael’s cheeky response was relayed with a dismissive flutter of his hand. “I will tell you that was a fluke.”

  Fluke, accident, Obsidian didn’t care what Michael called it. The male had saved his amsouelot’s life and for that, he was forever grateful.

  “Do you know who was driving the vehicle?”

  “One of those idiot demons.”

  “Impietan?”

  “That. Yes. It made it around the block before I ensured it went headlong into a concrete divider.” Michael’s dark eyes met Obsidian’s. “I’d say it’s in your best interest to get your female to safety. Not that I’m the best to give relationship advice, but she’s in grave danger as long as she’s out there on her own. That damn GA is useless to her right now.”