by Lisa Kumar
Her bed wasn’t as large as the one he’d had back home, but it would do. There’d be more than enough room for both of them. But there was one huge issue he couldn’t overlook. That dog was on the bed, polluting it with its filth. A thought poked at the back of his mind that not too long ago he’d have considered Caralyn even worse filth and would’ve abhorred the idea of sleeping in her bed, let alone taking ease in her body.
This seeming paradox set him on edge, but he quickly let his concern go. He was still disgusted by humanity, but since he was forced to live amongst them, a few concessions had to be made. This one was of them. Like it or not, Caralyn was all he had right now. He may be many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Something told him that she was the key to solving many of his problems. Now he just had to figure out how she fit into the puzzle.
“Well, if you’re not going to say anything,” said Caralyn stiffly. “I’m going to grab my pajamas and change.”
She strode over to a surprisingly huge closet and walked into it, not bothering to turn on a light. When she popped back out, she carried a few items of clothing. “I’m going to use the bathroom now.”
The sound of running water soon reached him. Was she bathing? The image of water droplets trickling over her skin and between her breasts almost sent him crashing through the door. But he wasn’t some uncouth human who couldn’t control his urges. Anyway, she might just be washing her face, and that wouldn’t be worth breaking in for.
The water shut off, and after a few minutes of him picturing her naked, she opened the door, fully clothed. Though he hadn’t really expected her to come out in something revealing, his daydreams suffered somewhat of a letdown. Her nightclothes consisted of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Both articles had white little bears on the knit material. All in all, not the nightgown of seduction for which he’d been wishing.
“You can use the bathroom if you need to.” An awkward look passed over her face. “I don’t know if you’ll want to shower, not that you seem dirty or anything. There’s also a new toothbrush and paste on the counter.”
He suddenly became aware of the less than pristine condition of his clothes. While he didn’t outright smell, he didn’t feel clean. The longing for a bath hit full force, along with the need to scrub his teeth like they’ve never been scrubbed before. “I need to bathe, but I’ll want something clean to wear afterward.”
As she sent him an appraising look, she seemed to be taking a mental measure of his form. “I might have something that’ll work in a pinch.”
Going back into her closet, she turned on a light and rooted around for a minute. “Found it.” She headed back out with a folded shirt, pants, and a pair of boxer shorts. “Here’s a men’s pajama set. You’re in luck that you don’t have to wear my fuzzy, pink robe.”
A sour feeling ignited in his stomach. Had her food sickened him after all? “Something left by one of your lovers?”
She stared at him before she burst out laughing. “No, sorry, nothing so spicy. It’s a set I bought for my dad. They might be a little short on you since you’re abnormally tall.”
He wasn’t abnormal anything. “I’m a little above the average height for a male of my kind.”
“Well, you’re a very tall person here on Earth.”
Lifting his chin, he ignored her latest comment and sailed into the bathroom. Only after he’d shut the door did he remember he hadn’t taken the pajama set. He wrenched the door open, and there she stood with an artificial smile on her face.
“Forgot something?” she asked sweetly before throwing the clothes at him.
They thudded against his chest, and he automatically wrapped his arms around them. “I have all I need now. You may go.”
She cocked a brow and didn’t move an inch. “It would really kill you, wouldn’t it?”
“What?”
“Having some manners.”
Not this again, but he wanted that bath enough he might just lower himself to say it. “Normally, I don’t thank subordinates, but since you’re so kindly providing for me” — he inserted the appropriate amount of sarcasm here — “I do most humbly thank you.”
Her eyes narrowed. Ah, so she had caught his mocking note? Before she could say anything else, he shut the door in her face.
Her outraged gasp reached him, and he smiled. This night looked better and better.
Chapter 8
Eamon stared at his reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror, taking in all his features. He’d showered, shaved, and finally felt clean. Running a hand over his chin, he welcomed the sensation of a hair-free face. The razor that he’d found in Caralyn’s bathroom was a much better replacement than the one he’d stolen.
Though he didn’t look much different than he had when he’d left Eria, he felt altered somehow. The change seemed to encompass more than just his appearance. Yes, his skin appeared duller and his face thinner, but his eyes reflected a tiredness, a weakness, he loathed. He couldn’t quite understand why he felt that way, because in some ways he was unchanged. He was still a miserable bastard who hated most everybody, elf or human. So what was it? His banishment and having all his former power over the darkindred stripped away?
Or could this unsettling sensation of unease and malcontent be attributed to a worse cause, something he could hardly bear to think upon? Had Caralyn done something to him?
He scoffed at himself. She was a mere human. What could she do? She didn’t have any magic to work enchantments and spells. But what was her aura, then? In his weeks here, he’d seen enough humans, and they hadn’t emitted any sort of glow.
Shrugging off that concern for now, he yanked on the too-short sleeves of his pajama shirt. The pants fit him the same way, but at least they were soft, clean, and otherwise comfortable. It seemed humanity had come far in this regard. Thousands of years ago, their clothes had left much to be desired. If he were being truthful, humans had made amazing leaps in technology, too. They just didn’t seem to know how to successfully integrate it with the natural environment around them.
That could be their potential downfall if they didn’t destroy each other first. Not that Eamon cared too much if they brought about their own destruction, but humanity’s demise would surely have a negative effect on his world, if not annihilate it outright.
And talking about humans, what was his little Caralyn doing? Since he’d turned off the water, not one noise —
His Caralyn? She wasn’t his in any important sense. Yes, he meant to have her, but after she’d served her purpose, he’d move on. To what, he didn’t know. But he never stayed long where he could gain no further advantage.
After pulling the door open, he froze. Caralyn lay on top of the bed’s covers, asleep on her side. Her left hand was curled under her cheek, and her knees were lifted up near her waist. She looked young and innocent, not like any of his past lovers. A sudden irrational idea stuck itself in his head. It seemed almost criminal to toy with her. She didn’t play his games, didn’t even know how to.
Eamon shook his head to rid it of these foolish thoughts. Sleep. That was what he needed. He trudged to the bed and stared, unsure what to do. A big lump moved at the bottom of the bed, revealing itself as Archie. He grimaced and sneered at the dog, who just wagged its thick tail. A growl of frustration worked its way up Eamon’s throat. There was just no scaring that dratted creature.
He pointed to the floor, but the dog didn’t budge from his spot. Glaring, he snapped his fingers. Still nothing. The animal was as obstinate as his owner.
Sighing, he went to Caralyn’s side and lifted her legs slightly so he could pull the covers from out beneath her. As a small boon, Archie lay at the very bottom of the bed, so he didn’t impede the movement of the blankets much.
Eamon scowled. He was only covering Caralyn up because he wanted to be able to have his share of the blankets. Keep telling yourself that, and it might ring true.
Once he’d freed the covers, he returned to his side and climbed in. The
mattress felt like soft clouds cradling him after his stint on benches and on the cold, hard ground. He’d even attempted to nap on the wide branches of trees but hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of vertigo he’d experienced while falling asleep. Elves usually had good balance, but there was a limit to their agility. And sleeping in trees without a platform was one of them.
At the touch of something bony feeling on his lower leg, he stiffened. Lifting his head slightly, he groaned. The dog was using him as a headrest. What further indignity would he suffer?
Glancing at the door to the hallway, he sighed. Why hadn’t he locked it before getting in bed? Even though he was on Earth, he could be no less wary. He waved a hand toward the knob, hoping the locking enchantment he knew would take care of it for him. The clicking sound it made reassured him it had, and he smiled. Thank the skies, Aistiane hadn’t taken this from him.
Caralyn murmured something in her sleep and turned onto her other side, her arm flinging across his chest.
He closed his eyes in despair. It was going to be a long night.
LIGHT PIERCED CARALYN’S eyelids, slowly bringing her to consciousness. Ugh, what time was it? And what day? She frowned, struggling to remember. She was pretty sure it was a Saturday, which should make her happy. While she loved her new job as a physical therapist, she loved her alone time even more. So why was something wiggling in her mind like a worm?
A heavy weight across her waist fully roused her, and she blinked. What the heck? And what was her arm slung over? It didn’t feel like Archie. Then like a bad dream, the events of last night mowed her down and left her gasping. The park, Eamon, her attacker, Eamon saving her and demanding to come home with her ... Oh, God.
She forced her lids open and confirmed her worst fears. Panic roared to life. He was real, and he was lying on her bed. Beside her, holding her, and — she winced — what she was doing wasn’t any better. His face was turned toward her. He appeared less imposing and evil without his nearly ever-present disdain marring his face.
He still didn’t look quite human, though if someone didn’t know what to look for, he could probably easily pass as one. She hoped so since she couldn’t keep him hidden away indefinitely.
Caralyn slowly withdrew her arm from across his chest, but how could she move out from under his arm without waking him?
She couldn’t stomach the idea of facing him right now. There was too much to process, and he destroyed her rational thinking abilities with shocking ease.
After gingerly lifting his arm, she slid out from underneath it. He shuddered, and her breath froze. But he didn’t wake, so she crawled the rest the way out of bed. She’d forgotten about Archie, though. As soon as he saw her, his tail wagged and shook the bed. She groaned.
“Archie, no,” she whispered. The canine thumped his tail harder. Eamon stirred and looked horrifyingly about ready to wake.
As if some unseen force were propelling her, Caralyn did the only thing left to her — she torpedoed into the bathroom and locked the door.
Slumping against the wall, she ran a hand down her face. Nice, Caralyn, hiding in your own bathroom. There was nothing for it now. Since she didn’t want to see him at that second, she might as well take a shower. She’d get clean underwear and clothes from the closet later.
Maybe spending some time under the hot spray of water would help restore her equilibrium. However, that was a huge maybe. More than likely, she’d come out even more confused and distressed than before.
After taking a long shower, she did feel calmer but none the wiser about what to do with Eamon. She clutched at the belt of her robe before she knotted it securely at her waist. Speaking of him, was he still in her bedroom? She pressed an ear to the door, but no telltale sound gave her a hint of his location. Let him be in the living room.
When she saw that the bedroom was empty, she did a little, happy dance and rushed to her closet to grab some clothes. Even Archie was gone, so he must be hanging out with the sociopathic elf. A little worry for her pet trickled in. Though she was sure Eamon wouldn’t hurt him, she’d taken a long time in the bathroom. She couldn’t imagine Eamon would deign to take a dog out to go potty.
After throwing her clothes on in the bathroom, she snatched up a warm pair of socks and hightailed it into the living room. Huh, no Archie or psycho elf there. The kitchen, then.
She pushed the kitchen door up and faltered to a stop. Blinking, she did a double take. What in the world was the pajama-clad elf doing? It looked like he’d emptied every cupboard in her kitchen and was rigidly ordering everything in some system only a mind like his could understand. He appeared so engrossed in his self-appointed task that he didn’t even seem aware of her presence. Archie lay in his corner, asleep near his water bowl, so she’d take him out later.
Shaking her head, she crossed her arms and bit her lip. Whether she was tempted to laugh or give Eamon some pissy retort, she couldn’t quite figure out.
She’d never considered herself particularly messy, and straightened up and cleaned the apartment when it needed it. So why had he ripped her kitchen apart? Unbidden came the reminder of the times that he’d been surprisingly prissy and unbending about things, which, truthfully, was most of the time. Like how he’d arranged the silverware with the precision of a military commander and how he seemed to absolutely hate the idea of things being dirty.
All these hints fell into place and clicked with a loud aha that echoed through her head. Bless his poor heart, the crazy elf was obsessive-compulsive. At least that seemed the most likely diagnosis. She’d have to see if it panned out.
As she watched him work, she admired how his back muscles bunched and coiled under the thin knit shirt. He had the sleeves neatly rolled — yes, rolled, not pushed up — to his elbows. Another fine hint of his fastidiousness that might back up her OCD label. His long hair streamed down his back, but the sides appeared to be held back from his face by two simple braids.
Suddenly, what she was doing hit her. Why was she gawking at him as if he were some male model standing in her kitchen? Oh, yeah, because he looked just like one. The memory of his kiss trampled through her head. Heat spread over her cheeks, but what was even more mortifying was the warmth burrowing into a certain region below her waist.
Oh, no. Oh, no. That phrase was like a mantra in her mind. She wanted to sob. How could she have the hots for the crazy elf? First, he wasn’t human. And second, hello, he was psycho. Maybe she was just desperate for some kisses and snuggles that weren’t given by a dog. She’d broken up with her last boyfriend nearly two years ago, and her first dates never went anywhere. Yes, that had to be the reason she was a puddle of hormones.
Clearing her throat, she asked casually, “What’re you doing?”
To her disappointment, he didn’t startle, so he’d apparently been aware of her or was just good at suppressing his surprise. Barely flicking a glance her way, he continued his work. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m arranging the madness that is your kitchen into some semblance of order.”
Her hands itched to smack him. Though his tone had been mild, his words were infuriating. “I liked my kitchen how it was, but thank you for your intent ... to, um, impose a semblance of order on it.” She couldn’t let him see how much he upset her. That would only give him more power over her.
He nodded as if he were completely in the right. “Someone had to do it.”
“Really?” Was this guy serious?
“Order is very important, especially in the kitchen.” He paused to look at her, and his keen stare said he expected confirmation.
Yep, dead serious. “The world would fall apart without an organized kitchen, huh?”
“Nothing so dire. You’ll be able to sleep easier, however, knowing that your kitchen cabinets are optimally arranged.”
Trust me, I’ve never lost a wink over it. He was so earnest, though, that she couldn’t bring herself to say that — or stay mad at him, for that matter. “I’m sure I’ll awake tomorrow mornin
g, refreshed in a way I’ve never been before.”
“If you don’t, I’d be much surprised.”
She gave a slight smile of bewildered amusement. “You continue on, and I’ll make us some breakfast after I take Archie out.” The dog was stirring and, once she started cooking, would surely be underfoot, so she might as well get his potty break out of the way.
“A fair proposition.”
After she returned from taking Archie out, she sighed in relief to be back in the warm kitchen, even if Eamon was there. Getting out the makings for a meal of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast, she marveled how the elf could possibly be the same male from last night. He seemed much less intensely sinister this morning, though no one would still ever accuse him of being warm and fuzzy.
They both settled into a comfortable silence. In between cooking the food, she dished up Archie’s bowl so he wouldn’t be whining for table scraps.
Through the corner of her eye, she watched Eamon work with astounding swiftness as he replaced her cups, mugs, and glasses. Though he loved order, it apparently didn’t take him long to know just how he wanted to impose it. She had to admit that his efforts did look better than her lackadaisical ones had.
Caralyn plated the last of the pancakes and carried them to the table. As she rounded up the rest of the food, Eamon stood back from the counter.
“There, all done,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction.
“Right in time. The food’s done.”
“It looks presentable.”
From him, she’d take that as a compliment. “Well, dig in before it gets cold.”
He turned to the sink and washed his hands before sitting down. “I recognize the bacon and eggs, but what are those?” he asked, pointing to the plate of pancakes.