Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,45
believe it. After what I saw today...I mean, what I think I saw—”
“You did see it. And it saw you. That’s where the pain-in-the-ass trouble comes in.” Very carefully, as if expecting her to launch a ninja sneak attack, he inched to one side. The bulk of his impressive weight eased, though he left no doubt that he’d body-slam her the moment hysteria tried to pop up again. For a fleeting moment she toyed with the idea of throwing a hissy fit, just to see where it got her.
I have to be crazy to think that at a time like this.
“You’re going to have to explain that one.” To her dismay her bottom and thighs grew disproportionately warm as he shifted around on top of her, and her nerves began to tingle in the most distracting way. “What do you mean by trouble?”
“Newsflash—it’s never a good thing when a demon looks right at you with those glowing red eyes and makes note of your existence. Worse yet, it saw me run in front of a bus to save you before it took off with its buddy Richard. That means it knows it can get to me through you. And it will if I let my guard down. Which I won’t, in case you’re wondering.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said, while her brain snagged on a point that made all the doubt come flooding back. “I didn’t see any red eyes. All I saw were a couple of dead people. A couple of dead people whose faces were being worn by the same person...”
When she shuddered he pressed back down on her, as if he wanted to crush out the fear and madness. The hand that kept her from head-butting him in the face gentled, his fingers sliding rhythmically through her hair as if she were a tantrum-prone child. But there was nothing childlike in the way he caressed her temple or massaged the nape of her neck. His touch communicated a deep need to both soothe and please her, as if he wanted to blot out the bad with what little good he could offer. Her forehead dropped to the mattress, her neck arching like a kitten being stroked, and it was nothing short of a relief to sink into the simple comfort of human contact.
“Not everyone can see those telltale red eyes, so I’m not surprised you didn’t see it. Even though I no longer have power, I can still spot the demonic from a mile away. Worse yet, the demon’s eyes weren’t the only ones showing red. For whatever reason, Richard Rainier has sold his soul. This makes him as dangerous as the demon itself.”
“Oh.” It was a nice, safe word that didn’t reveal how much the whole subject made her want to bury her head in the sand and pretend it didn’t exist. “Do you think Richard and...and that thing he had with him were behind the deaths of Gabrielle Litte and Briella Fields?”
“Yeah, I do.” His voice was as dark as night with no hope of a sunrise. “I think it’s pretty obvious it was Rainier’s intention to wipe out everyone who could be Gabriella Littlefield.”
“But why? And why would he sell his soul? It couldn’t just be because of the money his grandmother willed to me, could it?”
“I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is that he and the demon he had with him won’t get another shot at you. I’ll make damn sure of that.” He shifted to free the hand that was trapped beneath their bodies and stretched for the bedside phone, partially squishing her in the process. “For now let’s order some room service and rest up. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to make today look like a leisurely walk in the park.”
* * *
Nate heard water lapping against the side of the rowboat. Rhythmic. Gentle. A full moon hung low over a lighthouse perched on the lonely end of a jetty. Onshore far in the distance a giant circle of light shone like a beacon, while behind it a massive glass box flashed as if it contained a hurricane’s worth of lightning.
A storm is coming.
His hands tightened on oars he didn’t remember picking up, and as he looked at them it occurred to him that once again he was dreaming. Without a doubt he was a Grade-A landlubber. There was no way he’d voluntarily be in a rowboat out in the middle of what appeared to be