much faith in the human race, especially those not gifted with the craft.
“Oh, my aching head. I feel as if a train just went through my brain,” Dallas muttered as she stirred on the couch. Groggily, she sat up and winced as she attempted to open her eyes more than just a squint. “It’s so damn bright in here. My eyes hurt and my head, oh, my head hurts.”
Oliver raised his hands and dimmed the lights in the room so it would help to alleviate some of her pain. Her gaze went first to Finley and she faintly smiled. Then she rested her gaze on him, and her eyes went wide with wonder. “So, you really weren’t a dream… You weren’t an angel, were you?”
Her words struck a chord inside him, and though he had to tell her he wasn’t an angel, he wanted to tell her he was, and that he’d be her angel for the rest of their lives.
Chapter Four
“I’m definitely no angel,” he said. “But you can think of me that way whenever you like.”
“I will. As far as I’m concerned you are my guardian angel. Anya really gave me a priceless gift.”
Dallas’s head was pounding and she wished she could magically make it go away. She knew that healers had treated her or else she would have pain riddling her entire body, but when they healed her other wounds, why did they have to leave her with the lasting imprint of a bloody large headache?
“My mouth is dry,” she muttered, trying to stand up. She leveled her gaze on Finley. “Finley, what exactly happened to you, your brother and Marion?”
“We were a bit outmatched, I’m afraid, Dallas. We’re also a bit out of practice, but I’m going to rectify that fact in the days to come. I’m going to crack open my training manuals and get this body back in shape. My mind is sharp but these old bones do need a working out to get them more limber.”
“I take it everyone is still with us, or else you wouldn’t be here?”
“Indeed, the healers from the Magical Authority found them and treated them, and they told me they are safe and sound back at home. We actually have Oliver to thank for everything. He found us on the road and pulled over to render us the necessary assistance. He’s quite the humanitarian, and one hell of a warlock. I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side, that’s all I’m going to say.”
Finley’s words of praise echoed inside her brain. Oliver had certainly earned a loyal friend in the older warlock. Finley didn’t blithely give his approval to outsiders. In fact, he was usually the most critical when it came to newcomers in town. He always wanted them to earn their welcome before he could grant his seal of approval.
Now that she was gradually coming to her senses, she recalled Oliver’s full name. While she knew he couldn’t be as dangerous as his father was reputed to be, she did know he had a rather questionable past and that he’d done things she never would consider honorable. Be that as it may, her cousin would not have sent him to her if Anya didn’t think he’d reformed his bad-boy ways.
Despite being reformed, he still had a wicked air to him. By the way he’d summarily dealt with the Bloodbayne Witch Hunters, she knew he had his heart in the right place, and she knew he was not someone you should cross—ever.
If his power was in the realm of Anya’s, then he was more powerful than any warlock or witch in Gerrans, Halifax—oh hell, he was more powerful than any in the entire province, perhaps even the planet. Still, the dangerousness gave him a masculine charisma she could not deny. She wanted to throw herself at him, and if Finley wasn’t present, she didn’t know what she’d do as her hormones were on freaking overdrive. When he conjured a cold glass of water out of thin air, she was gone. He had to be the man for her. Did Anya know she’d like him that way when she sent him to Earth?
“Here,” he murmured, sinking his large lanky form onto the couch beside her. “This should take care of your dry throat.”
Mesmerized, she took the glass and drank it right down, the cold of it icing her still achy throat. It seemed the healers had only attended to the serious injuries. Any other aches and pains were