Savior (The Keepers of Hell Book 1)

by James, Danielle

  “Well,” Elizabeth scrambled for another argument, “You aren’t going to get better if you just bust out of here without proper medical attention.”

  Ash pulled the top of his johnny down, exposing the scar on his chest. “Can you take these staples out too?”

  Elizabeth was dumbstruck. She knew that she had just done a slice and dice on this man only three days earlier. His scar should be healing, yes, but where it should have looked raw and angry, it was only a deep pink. She subconsciously moved toward him and held her hand out to touch it. “I don’t understand,” she said. The skin had already sealed itself closed. It was as if he had been injured more than a week ago, rather than only days. The staples could come out.

  “I’m a fast healer,” he remarked. Elizabeth was sure he was hiding something but she didn’t press it. “I am leaving here, Doc,” Ash continued. “It’s better for everyone. I can do it with or without your help. Now please, I can’t go out in public wearing this dress,” he waved his hand over his front, indicating the gown, “and I would really rather you take the staples out than do it on my own.”

  Elizabeth took stock of the room. He had already unplugged the heart monitor and removed his IVs. She had no doubt in her mind that he would walk out into the public wearing only the gown if she refused to help. She also had no doubt that he would yank those staples out on his own. Likely that would ruin the excellent job she had done on him.

  “Wait here just a minute,” she finally conceded. “Let me see what I can find.”

  She left the room without waiting for his answer. She hoped he would stay. She knew if she were gone more than a minute, he would be leaving without her help. She rushed past the nurse’s station, telling them that he was checking out AMA, and grabbed her key to the supply closet. She found a set of extra-large scrubs and a pair of no-slip socks. They would have to do. She grabbed her staple removers on the way back to his room.

  She let out a sigh of relief when she saw him sitting on the edge of his bed. He had pulled the gown off and had it pooled in his lap to cover his pelvic area. She tossed the scrubs at him. He caught them easily in one hand and then raised both eyebrows at her. “Purple?” he asked.

  “It was all we had in a size I thought might fit you,” she replied, holding back her smile. Ok, so really it wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. For all the grief he was giving her, he could by God wear purple scrubs.

  He leaned over and yanked the pants up his legs. They were still a little too short for him, but it was better than having his ass out there for everyone to see. Then he leaned back so that Elizabeth could remove the staples. She touched his chest with a gloved finger, inspecting the incision before starting. The scent of her shampoo wafted past his nose and Ash groaned inwardly. Why did she have to smell so damned good?

  He jerked a little when her snipper thing touched his skin. “Does it hurt?”

  Ash shook his head. “No, just cold,” he told her.

  Then he watched as she skillfully slipped the thing under the staple and pinched it up to pull it out. She repeated the process for all seventeen of the staples. He could feel her soft breath on his skin as she carefully removed each staple. When she was finished she stood back to admire her work. Ash knew that was what she was doing from the satisfied look on her pretty face.

  “Thanks, Doc,” he smiled.

  She smiled back at him and it was genuine. It was the first real smile he had seen from her and it lit up her whole face. Of course, Ash was feeling better, and apparently, so was his dick, because it was twitching in his borrowed scrubs. He wondered again what she would taste like. He knew that once he left the hospital he could never see her again. He was dangerous to her. He put her in danger.

  He knew he could never allow himself another chance, so he gave in to temptation. He stood, put his hand on the back of her neck, and pulled her close to him. Her eyes widened but she didn’t pull away, and Ash took that as acceptance.

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. She didn’t fight him, so he traced his tongue over the seam of her lips, and when she sighed, he went for it.

  Elizabeth couldn’t believe what was happening. Ash was kissing her! And she was letting him. And enjoying it! He crushed his mouth to hers and wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her fully against his body. Electric tingles spread throughout her body and she melted against his hard chest. She forgot that he was her patient and this was completely against the rules. She forgot that he was injured. Hell, she forgot her own damned name as his tongue made her mouth its playground.

  He wrapped her in the comfort of his arms and deepened the kiss. Their tongues dueled for control as he nipped and sucked at her mouth. He broke away finally and kissed her jaw and the hollow of her neck. His larger body curled around hers and he was pushing himself, more specifically, his erection, against her. Elizabeth didn’t know when she had begun to return the embrace, but her arms were around his neck and she was holding his head to her skin. It felt so…right. Being in this giant man’s arms felt like home to her, and that was a dangerous concept.

  When he finally let her go, Elizabeth squashed a whimper. She hated the loss of his body heat against her and felt cold almost immediately.

  “Take care of yourself,” he said softly. He yanked the scrub shirt over his head and walked briskly out the door, leaving Elizabeth a speechless, quivering mess.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ash walked briskly through the hospital, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from pretty much everyone. It wasn’t every day that a large man wearing purple scrubs that were too short for him stormed through the halls. The giant erection that was tenting the scrubs probably didn’t help either.

  God, why had he kissed her? He could still taste her on his lips. He could still feel her soft body crushed against his. He couldn’t get her out of his head. It was at that point he knew that he would never forget the look on her face when he left her. The image of her standing there with swollen lips and shaking hands would forever be burned into his memory. He knew he would hold on to it. It was all he was ever going to have of the pretty doctor.

  He had been with many women over his lifetime, why did this one matter so much? He could try to tell himself it was because the demon threatened her, but he knew that was only part of it. Somehow, the little woman had gotten under his skin. Hell, she saved his pitiful life, and damn if he wasn’t determined to live it now more than ever. He was going to protect Lele, and he was going to protect his doctor, even if he had to do it from afar.

  He forced his feet to move faster, even as they itched to turn around and go back to her. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted that and so much more. He wanted to just lay her down on the bed and kiss her until there was no part of her body that he wasn’t intimately familiar with. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed, until she couldn’t remember what day it was.

  What was worse, he cared about her. More than he should. He wanted her to be happy and he wanted to be the one who put the smile on her face every day.

  But that wasn’t in the cards for Ash. He knew the day the demon reminded him of the deal he made that he could never entertain that kind of relationship. Ash didn’t own himself, and that meant he could never give any part of himself away.

  Nevertheless, he knew he already had. Dr. Elizabeth Rone had touched his heart, both literally and figuratively. He was sure there was some kind of Freudian disorder associated with the feelings he had for her, but that didn’t make them any less real.

  Ash wasn’t accustomed to feelings. He had no room for them in his line of work. It was best for everyone if he just went on back to the life he had, hunting and killing demons and evil fuckers for hire. That’s what he was. The demon provided all Ash could ever need, and in exchange, he killed.

  Ash hailed a cab in front of the hospital and rode in silence back to his home. Once inside, he changed out of the borrowed clothes and into his normal black on black. He bundled up the scr
ubs and started to throw them in the trash like all the other clothes he wore, but he couldn’t do it. He brought them to his nose and sniffed. As he expected, the smell of the hospital was still strong on them, but that reminded him of Elizabeth. They didn’t bear her warm, inviting scent, but it was as close as he was going to get. Instead of tossing them, he folded them neatly and dropped them into an empty drawer in his chest.

  Then he went to his weapons stash. He palmed two blades and secured them to his beltline. Then he looked for his favorite. It was gone. Ash remembered having it the night he was shot. Oh hell no. It could be anywhere! He jammed his feet into his boots and pushed out the front door. His first stop was going to be that fateful alley. Maybe he dropped it during his near death experience, and by some miracle, nobody had found it. That was the best case scenario. The worst case, someone did find it and Ash was going to have to spend an exceptional amount of time retrieving it by any means necessary.

  That was his blade.

  He troughed through the streets until he found himself nearly back at the hospital. The alley was just a few blocks from it. As he turned the corner, he saw the yellow police tape lying on the ground. Shit, he thought. The police had probably searched the alley and they probably had his knife. Now what was he going to do?

  He picked his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Lele’s number.

  “Why the hell did you leave the hospital?” she demanded when she answered. “You are nowhere near ready to be out. Get your ass back there right now.”

  “I love you too, Sis,” he grumbled. “I need to know, what happened to my personal things at the ER?”

  “Like I know,” she answered. “Why did you leave?”

  “I can’t explain right now,” Ash told her. “I need to find something of mine. Can you ask your man if he found my knife?”

  “That great big thing you always insist on carrying?” she asked. “Yeah he found it. He did what he was supposed to do and turned it over to the police. You’ll have to call them and ask about getting it back. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to carry one that big though. You sure you want it back?”

  Was he sure? Duh. “Yeah, I want it back.”

  “They’ll probably arrest you,” his sister warned him.

  “I’m gonna risk it,” Ash told her before hanging up the phone. Fuck and fuck. How was he supposed to get a six inch blade from the evidence locker at the police station? It was the fucking Blade of Darkness! And it was locked up tight in the police station. He didn’t want to admit it, but he might have to ask that fucking demon for help.

  But first, he was going to try and do it his way. He stuck his thumb and first finger in his mouth and whistled, waving at the same time. The oncoming cab pulled over to the curb in front of him and stopped. Ash yanked the door open and folded himself in the backseat.

  “Police station,” he grumbled at the cabbie.

  “Sure thing,” an amused and very familiar voice responded.

  Ash groaned. “Why are you even here?” he asked the demon.

  “Because I keep an eye on what’s mine,” the demon replied. “Thought you could use a hand.”

  “Whatever,” Ash mumbled. He was secretly grateful that the demon had taken it upon himself to help. This way, Ash could pretend he didn’t need the bastard’s help.

  “Lost your knife, huh,” the demon continued as if Ash were going to listen to him. “Well, I seem to have a way with people. Let me do the talking and you can have your precious knife back. Then you get your ass back to work.”

  “Yeah, that was what I was trying to do,” Ash told him. “What are you now, my stalker? Cuz I gotta say, it’s getting a bit creepy. You just ain’t my type.”

  The demon laughed. “You ain’t my type either, asshole.”

  Ash willed his lip not to twitch. He decided a bit of banter might be good, though. Maybe if he pretended to have some sort of rapport with the fucker, maybe, just maybe, he would forget about Elizabeth.

  “Here ya go,” the demon said. “Let’s get on with it.”

  Ash and the demon got out of the cab and walked up to the front doors of the police station. The glass doors were surprisingly heavy as they entered.

  “What can I do for you?” a uniformed officer said from the front desk.

  “I was shot the other night,” Ash started. “I lost my knife and I heard it was here. I would like to get it back.”

  “Name?” the officer asked. Ash told him and the officer typed away at his keyboard. “Says here that it is an illegal blade. It’s been confiscated. Nothing I can do.”

  “Perhaps,” the demon said, leaning onto the desk, “there is. Look again.”

  The officer’s eyes became glassy and had a faraway look to them as he examined the screen once again. “I’ll just go get it for you,” he said after reading the screen again. He stood and walked stiffly to the back of the station.

  “What did you just do?” Ash asked the demon under his breath.

  Fucker smiled. “Got your knife back.”

  A few minutes later the officer returned with a sealed bag. “Gonna need you to sign for it.”

  Ash scrawled his name on the sheet of paper offered by the cop. Then he took the baggie and ripped it open, checking to make sure his knife was undamaged. “Thank you,” he said to the officer as he slipped it into its holster. Then he turned and looked at the demon. “Let’s go.”

  They both walked out of the station, but once they got to the cab, the demon stopped Ash. “This is where we part ways,” he said. “I got another soul to pick up.”

  Ash shuddered. He knew exactly what the demon meant and was glad not to have any part of it. He could just imagine what kind of deal the poor idiot had made. Maybe it was for money, power, or even health. Maybe it was a deal like Ash himself had made. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter because the shmuck who signed in blood was in for an eternity of hell. Literally.

  Ash forced his feet to move back to his home. He ignored the stitch in his side and the pressure in his chest. He knew he was still healing, but the demon needed him alive and wouldn’t have insisted he get back to work if Ash wasn’t able.

  Once he entered his home, he palmed the pendant around his neck and chanted the spell that would take him to Hell.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Shax drove the cab slowly; circling the block, making sure his little slayer was on task. That woman was going to be a problem, he could feel it. Besides, she had already pissed him off. As much as the demon enjoyed Ash’s work, it had been his time to die. It had been time for the man to pay his debt to Shax and she stole it from him.

  Shax didn’t like to be stolen from. He was the demon, not her. He was allowed to steal. No one could take something from Shax and get away with it. No one.

  It didn’t matter that Ash meant more to him alive than dead at the time. Hell was in a mess, and this was his chance to gain power. Lucifer had been killed by his own son with the Spear of Destiny. Who knew where the little idiot even found it, but it was the only weapon capable of killing one as strong as Lucifer. But his son was sick with power. While that idiot was ranting and raving like a depraved lunatic, the leaders of the realms were gathering power. They all knew that Stephan, Lucifer’s demented son, would never rule Hell. Not for any amount of time. That stupid fuck was hell bent on revenge for some slight he imagined against him. Or maybe it wasn’t imagined. Whatever the deal was, he was focusing all his attention on getting his revenge and not paying attention to what was going on in Hell. Everyone knew that Stephan would end up getting himself killed. From the rumors, he was messing with some pretty powerful supernaturals, including a warrior angel.

  Shax was using Ash to destroy any demon that might be able to put up a fight against Shax when the time came for someone new to claim the throne. He could do it himself, but where was the fun in that? Besides, if Ash got himself killed, his soul belonged to Shax. He would continue his servitude into his pitiful afterlife.

  He felt t
he atmosphere ripple and knew that Ash had gone to Hell to find his latest assignment. As soon as he did, Shax went to the doctor’s home. He made himself invisible to her eyes and let himself into her house. It was a quaint little place. The walls were a cheery yellow and the furniture looked like a Pottery Barn had thrown up in her living room.

  He found her fast asleep in her bed with her dark hair spilled over the white pillows. It was no wonder Ash had taken to her; she was very nice to look at. Perhaps one day he would play with her. But not yet. She was fidgeting in her sleep. Her legs kicked and she groaned. A nightmare, possibly.

  He approached the head of the bed and softly laid his fingertip on her temple. “Tell me your secrets,” he said quietly. He watched as the dream she was having played in his head like a movie.

  ***

  Elizabeth knew she was dreaming. She’d had the same dream over and over for most of her life. But it wasn’t really a dream. It was a memory.

  She was back in her twelve year old body, in the attic of her foster home. She hated her foster parents. They were mean, vindictive, and selfish. The only reason they took on foster children was for the monthly check the government provided them with for caring for the children.

  They drank, often. Elizabeth and her foster brother, Eric, only got new clothes at the beginning of the school year. And it wasn’t because her foster parents bought them. No, it was because the school they attended had a special program to provide new clothes for the underprivileged children in their district. A teacher from the school would take the kids shopping about a week before the onset of classes, allowing them to pick out a few items for themselves.

  Elizabeth and Eric wouldn’t have even had that if Elizabeth hadn’t signed herself and her brother up for it. She had asked the teacher not to tell her foster parents about it and gave her some background on their home life. The teacher, of course, had called social services. But her foster parents were smarter than that. Whenever the worker would visit, they would have the house clean, they would both be sober, and there were no liquor bottles to be found in the house.