His low chuckle vibrated from his chest and his lips curved in amusement. “You’re sure bossy.”
“Yes, I know, and I’m also stubborn so you might as well give up now.”
He hesitated only a second more before he relented and opened the duster to the side. He turned away as she lifted his T-shirt, revealing a nasty slash from his navel to his right side. Her heart pounded painfully hard against her chest. He could have been killed tonight protecting her and she’d been worried about how he knew where she lived. “Remove the shirt, will you?”
His gaze riveted to hers and his brows shot up. “Excuse me.”
“Don’t worry. Your virtue will be safe with me. Either you let me clean the wound or we go to the emergency room.”
He shook his arms out of the duster.
“That’s what I thought.” He didn’t want to go to the emergency room or he would have done so already.
His shirt came off next, his muscles flexed and relaxed with the flow of his movements. He was impressive with his shirt on, but now… His broad shoulders and wide chest made him appear like a warrior. She half expected him to wield a sword on a daily basis instead of a pen.
A flash of memory came back to her of what went down tonight. He didn’t wield a sword, but he whipped out a dagger quick enough. She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Take a seat before you fall down. I can’t lift you, big boy, and you’ll lie where you fall until you regain consciousness.” She headed for the bathroom down the hall. “I’ll be right back,” she threw over her shoulder.
She needed supplies but she also needed a moment to digest what she’d seen Eli do tonight. Who carried daggers beneath a duster? Outlaws, warriors, gang members—what was she thinking? Eli wasn’t any of those. He’s an author.
So he said, her nasty voice of reason told her.
He saved me from being attacked, she argued back.
She opened her bottom cupboard under her sink and grabbed the first-aid kit. She had put the kit together her first year in nursing school. She never had to use it, until now.
Ryden came out of the bathroom and found Eli seated on the edge of one of her dinette chairs with McGregor, her tan and gray cat, sitting on his lap enjoying the attention he was receiving. Eli’s fingers rubbed McGregor behind his ears as he whispered to him in a language she didn’t understand, but it seemed her cat understood every word. He gave Eli a blue-eyed look and meowed in response. She shook her head and chalked it up to another weird moment in this night of many. McGregor didn’t like people, except for her. He usually hid beneath her bed until company left.
Eli looked up and smiled as she entered the room. “Your cat and I are getting acquainted.”
“So I see.” Her apartment wasn’t big, but functional and, most of all, affordable. Her living room and dining area shared the same space. Her small kitchen was separated from the living room only by the pine-wood cabinet with a tile top that overlapped on one side to function like a bar. She kept two stools tucked underneath for extra seating. There was just enough room in the kitchen for the stove and refrigerator. The white tiled counters held her microwave, toaster, and coffeepot. All the essentials, in her book.
She placed the first-aid kit on the table and opened it, taking out the gauze, disinfectant, and needle to stitch the wound. She shooed McGregor away, who didn’t seem pleased to vacate his spot on Eli’s lap. He jumped onto the table and perched his front paws on Eli’s shoulder. McGregor stared at her in that uncanny non-blink stare only cats could give. She had a funny feeling McGregor was standing guard, as if he wasn’t sure if she’d hurt his new friend or not. She was ready to shoo him away, but Eli spoke.
“He’s fine.”
“Okay, it’s your back if he ends up startled.” She knelt beside Eli so she was eye level with the wound. She looked up and met his gaze. “This may hurt a bit,” she warned.
He gave her a small nod. He sat up straight and inhaled deeply when she applied the disinfectant. The slash didn’t appear too deep, surprisingly since the amount of blood on his T-shirt made it look like he’d been gutted. She took out the needle, threaded it, and leaned close to stitch. He sat perfectly still while she poked his flesh as if he had practice doing this before. Maybe he had. His skin was tan, smooth of hair, and perfect. No old faded scars to say he’d been in fights before tonight.
With the wound closed, she took out the large gauze bandages. “I don’t need to tell you that you should have the wound looked at, but if you don’t the stitches will dissolve in about a week.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m going to wrap the gauze around you, to make sure the wound stays covered and doesn’t start bleeding again.” He lifted his arms, making it easier for her. She started in front and wound the gauze around to his back. Man, he was wide, but not an ounce of fat on him. She had to lean really close to reach the gauze bandage on the other side of him. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, taking his scent deep into her lungs—spice, leather and something achingly familiar. The scent curled through her memory compelling her to want to press her lips to his skin for a taste. Her eyes snapped open. Pull it together, O’Sullivan. Just because you have a hot hunk sitting in your living room, you can’t take advantage of the wounded warrior.
She cleared her throat and continued to work—faster. “The guys that tried to attack me looked like…” She tied off the bandage satisfied it would hold and staunch the bleeding.
“Like what?” he coaxed.
“I don’t know…” They had red eyes, pointed teeth, and talons. “Demons.” She chuckled and looked away. “That’s impossible, isn’t it?”
“It’s a day before Halloween. I think they were getting a head start.”
Halloween. Right. “We need to make a police report. They attacked me and they tried to…” Her gaze landed on the bandage and she swallowed.
His finger lightly caressed her cheek and slid under her chin, lifting it so she had to look at him. “I’m fine. They were just punks and their prank went too far.”
“Prank?” She came to her feet. “Are you crazy? That was no prank,” she snapped, thinking he’d lost his mind.
“Listen, you’re fine. I’m fine. What would you tell the police, hmm? Two demons attacked us?” He gave her a crooked smile. “Besides, I would be the one in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had the only weapon.” He held her gaze and waited for her to think about it.
She stared at his wound.
He must have realized what she was thinking. “I stabbed myself...”
Her brows lifted as she met his gaze again. “Really?”
“…when I fell,” he finished.
“Uh huh.” Maybe he did or maybe he didn’t. She didn’t know since she had been out for the count. The guys who attacked them had…talons. Yeah, that would hold up in court. The demons sprouted talons from their fingertips. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She hated to say it, but Eli was right. Her description of the two men would sound ridiculous. Eli had the only weapon and she used her taser on one of the guys. They could both be in trouble. She closed her eyes and opened them with a curse. “Fine, no cops.” Then she remembered the fight and the one guy making her drop the weapon. Eli?”
“Yes.”
“I used a taser on one of the guys.”
“I know.” He nodded. “I found it. It’s over there.” He pointed. “On your kitchen counter.”
She glanced behind her, spotting the weapon laying, dark and foreboding, on the white tile.
McGregor jumped down from his perch on Eli’s shoulder and sauntered over to the loveseat. He leapt up and settled himself on the back of it, intent on licking his paws.
Eli stood then, turning away to retrieve his T-shirt.
She gasped at the sight of his back. He turned to look at her with a raised brow, obviously wondering what her outburst was all about. “May I? Your tat,” she clarified, nodding toward his back. “May I see it?”
He gave her a curt nod and faced the other way, giving her a full view. “This was nothing like she imagined when he said he had a tattoo. The intricate dove-colored wings outlined in black started at his shoulder blades and ended just above the waistline of his jeans. “Wow. The artist didn’t slack off with the detail. Your wings appear as if they could spread wide and take flight.” She couldn’t resist. Her fingers traced the lines. She felt the warmth from his skin radiate through her fingertips, pulsing with awareness. For a flash of a second, a vision of Eli with wings spread wide took form in her mind. She blinked, shaking her head. That was weird.
“I’m not so much a sissy now, huh?”
“I never said that.” But she could feel the heat blaze in her cheeks.
He looked over his shoulder and met her gaze. “When I told you my tat was angel wings, what did you think?”
Her lips twitched, threatening to smile. “That you had a cute little cherub etched on your shoulder blade.
He grinned with a distinctly male satisfaction lighting his face. “Just what I thought.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect this work of art.” Her hand glided down the length of one wing. His body shuddered in response and she met his gaze. “I’m sorry, does it still hurt?”
His whiskey-colored eyes darkened and he turned away. “No, I’m fine.” He reached for his T-shirt again and she placed a hand on his forearm. “You can’t put that on. It’s ruined anyway. Let me give you a new shirt to wear.”
His brows arched in clear amusement. “I don’t think you’re my size.”
She chuckled. “I sure hope not.” She gave him a once over and headed to her bedroom. “My brother crashed here last week and left some of his things.”
A few minutes later, she came back and handed him a black T-shirt with skulls and a Celtic cross in the center of it. It was a snug fit, but it didn’t look too bad on him. It made him look huge, powerful, and very dangerous.
“Our costume hunting didn’t end so well. Sorry, about that,” he said as if the night’s events were his fault.
“Please don’t apologize. You weren’t responsible.” Her gaze landed on his mouth, fantasizing how those lips would feel pressed against hers. She shoved her hand in the back pocket of her pants and forced her gaze to look elsewhere. She glanced at the clock over her entertainment center. “Everything will be closed now.” She stated the obvious, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I suppose so. It is after twelve.”
“Yep, it’s Halloween.” She noticed he looked put out at the notion.
“We don’t have much time left.” His voice had lowered and she wasn’t entirely sure he had meant for her to hear the statement.
“What do you mean?”
His gaze traveled over her features like a warm caress. Her heart skipped then started to race. The man could sure turn her legs to jelly with one look. Then his gaze met hers and held.
“I want to kiss you, Ryden O’Sullivan. What do you say about that?”
Man, the way he said her name, curling it off his tongue like he was describing a tantalizing sweet. She wanted him to kiss her, too. “I…”
He didn’t wait for her to finish, and she really didn’t know what she was going to tell him anyway. It didn’t seem to matter now. He took the steps that separated them. His one hand encircled her waist, bringing her closer. His other hand tipped her head up, cradling it in his palm. Slowly, lazily, never breaking eye contact, he lowered his mouth to hers, claiming her lips. The sweet urgency of his kiss was like a drug, making her shake, breathless and yearning for more. The kiss spilled through to her soul with recognition. She kissed him before—made love to him. Startled at where her thoughts had drifted, she shook her head and pulled away. That wasn’t right. They hadn’t even dated and she sure would remember taking this man to her bed. Man, her brain was severely scrambled.
“Ryden, what’s wrong?”
“I…” her hand flew to her mouth, her lips still tingling from his touch. “I’m tired.”
His brows furrowed. His gaze wavered over her. If he kissed her again, she’d be powerless to stop what would happen next.
“I should go,” he said, deciding for both of them.
Thank goodness, he couldn’t read minds. “Um…yes.” Don’t be a fool. Don’t let him just leave. “I don’t work tomorrow...or rather today.” Her lips twitched. “We could go to the costume store when they open. You’re still going with me to the party, right?” Boy, didn’t she sound like a great catch. Kiss him, tell him to go home, then demand his return.
“I’ll be here early. We’ll make a day of it.”
She let out a breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding and smiled. “Should I pick you up?”
He shook his head. “I better pick you up since I left your car in the parking lot back at the restaurant. I drove you home in my vehicle. We’ll swing by and pick it up before we head out for a day of costume hunting. Sound good?”
She nodded. “Yes, thanks.”
He put his duster on and she walked him to the door. This time he kissed her on the cheek, but his caress wasn’t any less startling.
“Goodnight, Ryden. Sleep well.”
“Night.” She couldn’t seem to wipe the silly grin off her face. She closed the door and leaned against it. “I could fall in love with you, Eli Grigori.” She was definitely too easy. One kiss and she was ready to look at China patterns. What did she really know about the guy? He came into the restaurant and they chatted, but nothing that told her about the man. He’s strong, good looking, and one heck of a good kisser. Works for the heroines in the romance novels she read, but face it—this was real life and she needed more.
Her gaze landed on his discarded T-shirt, red with his blood.
She frowned wondering why he truly brushed their encounter off as nothing. She didn’t believe for one moment he stabbed himself by accident. She walked over and picked up the shirt. We could have been killed.
But you weren’t. He protected you. He risked his life to keep you safe.
“Let’s add brave to his good qualities. Or stupid.” Her brows furrowed as she recalled how Eli pulled her behind him, shielding her as he faced her attacker with a dagger in his hand. Why would he feel compelled to carry a weapon like that?
You carry a taser.
“That’s different,” she argued with herself. “Besides, my weapon of choice is legal.” His most definitely was not.
Chapter Nine
Flying was Lucca’s preferred method of travel and the night proved perfect with no high winds to interfere with his flight. He could use the glamour and arrive faster to his destination by materializing to the spot of his choice, but what would be the fun in that?
In the human realm, Lucca was a private detective, content to work alone. He took cases that usually involved cheating spouses or significant others, nothing too difficult.
The human Lucca shadowed tonight wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. The guy picked up a date and drove to the observatory in Los Angeles. The place was closed, but it didn’t seem to matter. The guy parked the car at the top of the hill, giving his date a spectacular view of the City of Angels.
Lucca really did like the name of the city. It was too bad it was filled with human inhabitants. He glanced at the vehicle, the windows already beginning to fog, indicating neither person in the car was interested in the beauty before them. The little weasel convinced his best friend’s female to go out with him and he had her in the backseat of his Lexus right now. So much for dinner and a late night movie, they went straight for dessert.
Standing not too far away from the show, Lucca leaned against the tree and lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, letting out the smoke in small O-sized rings. Having angel blood coursing through his veins kept him from catching diseases humans were prone to contract so he could enjoy their nasty little habits without worry.
A soft moan floated from the car, drawing his attention. He roll
ed his eyes in disgust. He couldn’t catch sexual diseases, either, or so he assumed since his immune system worked overtime to keep the other human diseases at bay. None of the Watchers had slept with humans in centuries, including him, and he had no desire to either.
Humans were weak creatures. They fell in love, married and divorced all in the same year. So much for true love and soul mates. It was a bunch of rubbish. Eli claiming he found his was even worse. A Watcher should know better than to fall for the sentimental elements of their human side. Watch, observe, and report human behavior. Don’t participate in their rituals, sexual or otherwise.
His gaze shifted to the rocking car with the fogged up windows. “Or their deceit,” he added as he took another long draw of his cigarette. When he watched, he preferred to keep his presence unknown, masking himself with glamour, but some humans sensed him anyway. The hairs on the back of their neck would rise or their flesh goose-bumped. They couldn’t quite understand why they had the feeling of being watched. Not finding a source for their paranoia, they dismissed the uneasiness as being foolish, but there were a few who could see him even with the glamour in place—young children, the dying, and the schizophrenics or ones with a mental disorder could spot him. He didn’t understand why they could. Even to the Watchers, the human mind was a mystery.
After all these centuries, he still couldn’t understand how the angels fell for a lower class of being. Humans were vulgar creatures and they smelled bad, too. They relied on too many unnatural perfumes to camouflage their true scent. He didn’t care he was half-human. His opinion still stood.
Eli- Warriors for the Light Page 5