I pulled items down to inspect what was on hand and found sacks of flour and grains as well.
“We’ll stay here until I figure out another place to stash the diamond,” March said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“What?” I was outraged. I set the can down on the counter before I walked back toward March. “Why?”
If he thought he could intimidate me by straightening to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest while he squared off against me…well, he was right. March was huge. I was tall for a woman, five-foot ten, but I still had to look up at him. Some random piece of my mind decided to spit out the fact that I would be able to wear heels without towering over him. Really random, but appealing.
“Because I’m the one that hid it in Canada in the first place,” he answered.
That was new information. The surprise of it stopped me in my tracks physically and mentally. That would mean he wasn’t human or wasn’t mortal.
What did that mean to me? There was so much about him I did not know.
As I tried to get my thoughts organized, he arched a brow at me. I wanted to rip it off his face. I hated that cocky look he’d often give. It typically accompanied an evasive change in the subject. I hated that, too.
More than anything, I hated that he was so good at it that I never noticed until it was too late. Bastard. Not this time.
“No, I mean you can’t.” I mimicked his pose by crossing my arms over my chest but raised both of my brows. There was about a foot of space between us. I had to crane my neck to glare up at him, but I didn’t care how ridiculous it might look. I knew there was nothing I could do that might have a chance at intimidating him, but I would stand my ground. “I have to take it back to the museum eventually.”
“Which will get you and the rest of your science friends killed.”
Does he have to talk to me like I’m a child who didn’t understand two plus two?
“I’ll lose my job,” I shot back.
“Better than losing your life.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I had taken a step toward him.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” He stepped toward me as well as if I had challenged him.
“Bullshit!” Now I placed my hands on my hips.
We were both in each other’s personal space. How we got to this point I wasn’t sure, but the realization shut me up. It seemed to have done the same to him. I felt my scowl melt into a neutral stare as I looked up at him. Pride wouldn’t let me look away or lower my eyes. He was so big, and I knew he could squash me like a bug, but that same instinct that told me I could trust him said he wouldn’t.
Of course, something inside me also admired his chest from this short distance, and his scent. He didn’t wear cologne, but he had a natural earthy smell, almost smokey as if he had been standing near a campfire recently. Memories of home, the woods, winter nights by a fireplace swirled up to join the smell of him. It was enticing and made me imagine things I hadn’t thought of since my last boyfriend seven months ago. I realized how alone I felt, and I was tempted to touch that chest of his to see if it were as hard as it looked. But I resisted. What kind of idiot would I look like to go from shouting at him to fondling him in under a heartbeat with no warning? Little did I know that he was having much the same argument with himself.
* * *
Damn, she’s beautiful.
Why did I keep noticing that? What was it about this woman that stood out to me? She didn’t seem to be overly concerned with her appearance. She wore no makeup, or at least not enough to get smudged from sleep. She was fit, but had curves. They looked soft. Alluring. And even though I looked down on her, now that she was this close to me, I could tell she was tall for human woman. Almost six foot. That alone made me want to pull her against me to see how well those enticing curves fit against my body. And her scent. It was driving me crazy. She smelled like sandalwood. Not like she wore an essential oil made to smell like sandalwood. They never got that right. This was as if she had just stepped off a pleasure barge in Egypt in the time of the pharaohs. But there was an edge to it as well that reminded me of the wild places of the Earth. Her scent identified her as something beautiful but not to be underestimated.
It made me want to know her in a very Biblical sense. Not that I thought for one moment she would let me touch her. Hell, I didn’t deserve to touch her, and in my opinion, no one else did either. That thought brought me up short. I had no right to have a say in her personal life, and after this was over, I would never see her again.
I hadn’t even known her for twenty-four hours. I had put myself into a position to be her guardian, but that was the extent of my involvement in her life. These possessive urges I had were out of line and out of character. I didn’t get involved with mortals as a rule. There had been dalliances, passing moments of physical pleasure, but they had all been fleeting. Mortal women were fragile with brief lives. Involvement beyond the moment wasn’t wise. I told myself that her body was all that I was interested in.
As she stared at me in the silence that had fallen between us my eyes picked over the details of her that were more easily seen at this distance. She had faint freckles on her breasts, peeking out from under her summer blouse. Her eyelashes were just a shade darker than her brows. Her hair wasn’t just one shade of auburn but had brown undertones with red highlights. It was either done by an exceptionally good stylist, or it was genuine. My bet was the latter. It seemed more her way. I wanted to bury my nose in those locks. Soak my lungs in the smell of them.
I realized then that with all those thoughts came a reaction I wasn’t ready for. I felt myself growing hard in my pants. I hoped she hadn’t noticed, but to be certain I broke the stalemate first by stepping past her. I may have brushed by more brusquely than intended. Brenna let out with a small sound that did not help my arousal one bit. It sounded like something I would hear from beneath me. Something I would work to turn into cries of passion. She also had to catch her balance. I forced myself to pay it no mind. Told myself not to check to make sure she was alright.
Looking at her again right now would be my undoing.
As a distraction I picked up the diamond, wrapped it in the silk with the embroidered Seal of the Seven Archangels, and then put both into the sandstone box. It had the benefit of being necessary.
“Until I know where we’re going next, this stays in here. It’ll slow them down.”
“Slow them down? Wasn’t it hidden well enough before?”
Her voice sounded thick. She had to clear her throat as if it had gone dry.
Had she been feeling the same things I had?
Hard to tell.
What would it mean if she had, anyway? It wasn’t something I could act on. Our situation was too dire for that, and with the turmoil within me I couldn’t be certain it would just be physical for me.
I shook my head as I answered, but I wouldn’t look at her. “It’s been out in the open for too long. The wards weakened when the seal on the box was broken. They aren’t completely gone so the fallen will have to work some rituals to pinpoint its location, but we can’t count on the wards for the long run.”
I could feel her eyes on me as I grabbed up my sword and scabbard. I wanted to see the look on her face but kept control of myself. I needed to get out of here for a bit, get away from her and clear my head so I could shove some logic in there.
“Then how will you hide it again?” The tone of her voice made it sound as if she wanted to ask a different question.
She needed to stop talking.
When I reached the door to the cabin, I drew my sword. The scabbard got hung on one of the pegs next to the door that were obviously meant for coats. “I’ll make new wards and sigils at the new location before I inter it again.” That seemed obvious to me. My frustration made me pull the door open rougher than I meant.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Hunting,” I growled out.
My frustrati
on needed a release that I wasn’t going to get from her, but we also needed the meat. We would be here for a few days at the very least. I was not inclined to become a vegetarian now, and the caribou would be easy to bring down. There were no natural predators for them on the island which would make them stupid. And to be honest, killing something would feel good.
FIVE
BRENNA
I watched March to leave. But then I continued to stare at the door even after it had shut.
What just happened?
I blinked then let out a long exhale as if I had been holding my breath this whole time. Confusion and a physical agitation that I did not understand settled around me. There was a tension between us, that much was clear. To me, it felt sexual. I knew for a fact I had felt like I wanted to know what his lips tasted like, but had he felt the same way? Had he bolted out of here under the lame excuse of going hunting because he had wanted the same thing, or because he had picked up on my attraction and wanted none of it?
One would be something that would require a discussion. The other would tear my ego to shreds.
And his own behavior was just as bewildering. He was grouchier than usual. Had he been disgusted by my reaction? I wasn’t sure I could handle that. I’d faced rejection before, but not when I was isolated on an island with just the other person. My humiliation would have no reprieve. I’d know he was laughing at me every time I looked at him. Of course, nothing in his behavior so far indicated such a cruel nature. He had been condescending, but he hadn’t ever been emotionally vicious.
“Ugh.” I let my head drop back as I rolled my eyes. “Get a grip, girl!” I sighed, wiped a hand over my face then shook my head. “Be productive instead of some moonstruck dishrag.”
I was vastly more intelligent than this, and I had skills that would come in handy here. It would be a good distraction to put those talents to work.
I found canned vegetables in the kitchen, both conventional and old fashioned. There were also bags of flour and grains along with containers of dried beans. That would be all I needed as far as ingredients were considered. Another search produced a stockpot and utensils.
Perfect. I can distract myself. And if he comes back with something to add to this all the better.
By the time March got back, I had a fire going in the fireplace and the stockpot on a hook close enough to the fire that the contents were steaming. Dried beans and barley were soaking to get the stew started. Old fashion canned vegetables were nearby to be added later. I wanted to use them over the conventional metal cans as the latter would last longer. I didn’t want to deplete the stores too much regardless of need, and I had learned how to make a little go a long way, thanks to my childhood. I first watched then helped my mom. She’d shown me how to make food stretch.
I looked up from where I had been stoking the fire to see that March had a slab of what could only be caribou meat. Hunting must have been successful. Where the rest of the carcass was, I didn’t want to know. I wasn’t squeamish by nature, but I hadn’t seen a chest freezer anywhere.
March seemed surprised by the progress I had made. A proud smile lifted my lips. Did I feel a little smug to see that puzzled look on his face? Maybe. Turnabout was fair play. But I didn’t make him ask the question that was so clearly written on his face.
“I grew up on a ranch in Montana,” I said as I went back to prodding the fire. “I learned how to make do.” I nodded to the meat in March’s hands. “Put that on the counter then get out of my kitchen.”
I had always wanted to say that.
My mom had given the same order to everyone in my family at one point or another. It was a fond memory of holiday gatherings, and cold winters. I hid my smile by turning my attention back to the fireplace. I wasn’t ready to share such a personal part of me with March. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Amusingly enough, March obeyed without comment. He stared at me as if I had grown wings during his absence but did as I instructed. He set the fresh meat on the counter in the kitchen then came back to the living room. I didn’t look, but I could feel him staring at me in silence.
Before it got too uncomfortable, he finally spoke.
“I’m going to get cleaned up,” he muttered.
It almost sounded…shy? Had I surprised him enough that he had been knocked out of his perpetual machismo?
I glanced over my shoulder in my surprise, but he already had his back to me as he stepped into the next room. The door shut and I was left alone to figure out what had him so muted. I shook my head. There was too much to do to worry about whatever was going on in March’s head.
Not long after, he emerged from the next room. I had cut the meat into chunks and added it to the beans and barley. There weren’t many spices to work with, just the basics, but I had the beginning of a decent stew going. The aroma filled the inside of the cabin. It brought out and mingled with the smell of whatever wood had been used to build the cabin walls. If I had thought it had smelled like Christmases before it was more so now.
I looked up to say as much but the words caught in my throat. March wasn’t wearing a shirt. That chest I had been admiring a few hours ago was right out there for me to see. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to. He was a living statue of Adonis. My eyes took in the sight of his chest then traced down to a set of abs the likes of which you only see on said statues, and there was a thin trail of hair below his navel that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
My lips parted a bit then went dry. He was naturally tanned. Taken into consideration with that shoulder length main of dark hair, I assumed he was of Mediterranean descent. Italian, maybe. The logical side of my brain reminded me that he had indicated he was a lot older than he looked, but my libido was currently in charge and it did not care one bit how old he was or wasn’t. Mortal or immortal. Human or not. That part wanted me to climb him like a tree.
Scars of various age crisscrossed his torso. Some were just faint lines. Others were so fresh they were still red and swollen. But one in particular caught my attention. It looked like someone had branded a symbol onto his deltoid. I knew what that looked like from growing up on the ranch so identified the reason for the scar immediately. It was a circle, almost like the Seal of the Seven Archangels embroidered on the silk wrapped around the diamond. There were differences in the script, though, but I could tell it was still Hebrew.
I wanted to study it more, but I realized I was staring longer than was appropriate. I blinked as I tore my eyes away from it.
It wasn’t until my eyes returned to his face that I realized he was glaring at me again. I cleared my throat, blushed, and turned my attention back to the stew. The rustle of fabric made me realize he was putting his shirt back on.
“There’s a shower,” he said in that familiar gruff tone. “But there’s no hot water.” At least he hadn’t commented on my stare. Relief flooded through me enough that if I had been standing, my knees would have felt weak.
“Oh.” I gave the pot a good stir to buy me time to pull myself together. “That’s not a problem. That whole ranch experience. Sometimes the pilot light went out in the water heater, but we still had to get ready for school. It’s nowhere near as cold here as it was then.” And a good cold shower would knock some sense back into me. “I’ll clean up after we eat.”
I would have liked that cold shower now, but I couldn’t trust that the stew wouldn’t scorch. I could have asked March to stir it, but I had started this. I would finish it.
I finally got brave enough to look over my shoulder. March had taken a seat on the couch and was watching me. I liked the way he looked at me. It was as if he was studying me as closely as I had just studied him. The real question was why. Did he look at me because he liked what he saw, or was he trying to figure out what was going on with me? Whatever the reason, I had to admit that I preened a little under his scrutiny. My cheeks felt warm again, but I smiled.
“What?” I asked with a hint of a smile.
There wa
s a moment of silence and I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he huffed. One corner of his lips actually pulled upward into something resembling a smile.
“You just surprised me,” he answered. “I thought I’d have to do the cooking.”
Even I could tell that wasn’t what he’d been thinking. I accepted it, for now, though.
March was cagey as hell when it came to anything about himself. But I let him get away with it. Sooner or later, I’d get him to reveal something.
“Hey, if you want to…” I joked then made as if to get out of the way.
He held up a hand as he shook his head. “By all means. You wouldn’t want to eat my cooking anyway. That smells better than anything I would have made.”
A compliment? The first time he had said anything nice to me!
On the inside I felt like it was just announced that I was the winner of some big contest. I felt like there should’ve been confetti and shouts of triumph. I knew I was overreacting, but I did smile for the praise.
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it.
Why his approval over something as small as a stew meant so much mystified me. I didn’t feel inclined to go out of my way to get his accolade, but I wanted to know he thought highly of me. It was ridiculous, and a bit demeaning. I was an independent woman, strong and proud of myself and my accomplishments. I did not need anyone’s approval. But I wanted his.
I was an idiot.
“It’ll be ready soon,” I called to him over my shoulder.
And there was that smile again. It was such a rare thing to see on March but now that it did appear I realized it made him even more handsome. Part of me wanted to see it more often. More than that, I wanted to be the reason it was there. I was beginning to think, or maybe hope, that I was. He seemed like the person who needed to smile more often. Needed a reason to smile.
Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend (Good Girls & Demons) Page 4
