by Brenda Huber
Big. Bad. And supremely pissed off.
“Do not think to trap me in that office again with your ward stones. If you try it, I will bring this building down in pieces. I have given you my word I will not harm you.” He paused, letting his eyes flash red for a moment. “But that doesn’t mean I will tolerate being treated like a caged dog.”
He watched as she forced a swallow, and stared up at him. She slowly nodded. He stood there a moment longer, just to make sure his warning had properly sunk in before he stepped back. Xander trudged sullenly up the stairs, Kyanna scurrying along at his heels.
The room he stepped inside was large, open and airy. A living area that flowed smoothly into a dining area which, in turn, flowed into the kitchen. Three, evenly spaced doors lined the wall on the north side of the apartment. One closed. Two open. There wasn’t much in the way of clutter. A few well-chosen, antique pieces of furniture. A bright red vase filled with flowers here. A cluster of decorative candles there. Gilt-framed landscapes hung on the walls. A huge, thick, pile rug covered hardwood in the center of the living area. Aesthetically pleasing. The room smelled of Kyanna. Enticing. Vibrant.
His skin prickled, warning him that there were ward stones here. And more enchantments.
“The bathroom is over here,” she said, pointing to an open doorway. “I left a fresh towel and washcloth on the hook for you. I’ll work on getting some new clothes while you shower.”
Inclining his head, he strode past her on his way toward the bathroom. A few feet from the bathroom door—though his step did not falter—his gaze cut to the closed door on his right. The itch in his skin intensified. She’d employed both incantations as well as ward stones in that room.
Is that where she’s keeping the scrolls?
Filing that bit of speculation away for later, Xander entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Tidy. Spotless, like the rest of the apartment. A thick, pink bath sheet hung from a brass hook on the wall. A neatly folded, matching washcloth rested atop the hook.
He began to strip off his pants, but the sound of her voice filtered through the door and he paused, one leg all the way in, one leg half out.
“Hey, it’s me.” A long silence ensued.
He wrestled with his conscience for one very brief moment, then did a hobble step closer to the door. Xander cursed when he tripped on the edge of the rug and nearly landed on his face. Damned clothing. So much easier when you could just conjure and vanish them at will. But even up here in the apartment, he was thwarted. No matter how badly he wanted it, that blessed can of Pepsi never appeared in his hand.
“No, that’s not why I’m calling. I didn’t change my mind. I told you before, I don’t want to talk about Jack.” Xander’s brows snapped together. His attention focused solely on her voice now, his pants pooled, forgotten, around his ankle.
Jack? Jack who?
He leaned closer to the door, bracing his hand on the doorframe, hoping to catch a bit more information. Like a last name.
Or where this Jack lived.
Again silence thwarted him for a moment.
“Look, Summer, I need a favor.” Who was this Summer? Kyanna’s footsteps shuffled across the dining area. Shuffled back. Her voice clear one moment, muffled the next, frustrating him to no end. “I know. And please, no questions, just—”
Another long silence, followed by a deep, beleaguered sigh on Kyanna’s end of the conversation. “Yes, just not now, all right?”
The clink of ice in a glass rattled, water rushed from a faucet, drowning out her words for a moment. He pressed his ear closer to the door and concentrated.
“Yes, that’s what I said. Clothing. Jeans and a T-shirt. On second thought, you better make it three of each. I’m not sure how long he’ll be here. I’ll pay you back. No! He’s not—geez, Summer.” She groaned. “Why does everything with you have to be about sex? Just bring the clothes over, sooner rather than later. Yes, I’m sure about that. No,” she hissed furiously, “I won’t be needing any of those!”
She’d stopped pacing just on the other side of the door, but the steady thump-thump indicated she was tapping something. Her foot perhaps.
“I’m always careful too, Summer Ann.” Now she was pissed off. He could tell by her tone. And even that was turning him on.
Silence reigned for what felt like an eternity.
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” she replied contritely. “No, it’s just been a long night. No! Not that kind of long night. Ugh! I just need the clothes, okay? Size? Um, the shirts, I guess an extra large. Jeans? No—bigger than Jack, I think. Taller. More Duff’s size. I don’t know, he’s like 6’ 4” or so. Maybe a little taller.”
Again silence, but she’d resumed pacing.
“No, he has boots, but I suppose you probably better get socks.” A brief pause. “No, I’m not sure of his boot size.” A short beat of silence. “They’re huge, why?” A scandalized gasp filled his ears. “I would not know what size his—I am so not having this discussion with you right now!” She paused, then let out a long, put-upon sigh. “I don’t know if he wears boxers or briefs. I didn’t ask. Just. Get. Some. Clothes.”
Another moment of silence, and then, “Fine. Come in the back way—wait. You better make that the front door. You still have your key, right? No there’s, ah, there’s something wrong with the back door. It’s, um, sticking.” A short pause. “No, I already have someone scheduled to fix it. Just come to the front. Give me a call when you get here and I’ll run down and meet you. Thanks. See you in a few.”
The phone clattered on to the hook, and Xander hurried to turn the water on. He finished wrestling off his pants and stepped under the spray. Bracing his hands on the wall, Xander dropped his head forward, and let the hot water pound on the back of his stiff neck and his tight shoulders before reaching for the washcloth. He looked around for another bar of soap—heaven forbid, even one of those rose scented, flower shaped ones like in the bathroom downstairs—but could only find a bottle of floral-scented body wash. He groaned aloud, but began lathering the cloth.
As irritating as this situation was, he could use it in his favor. Inconvenience her. Make her bear the full weight of confining him. Deal with his needs—
His body reacted instantly with those leading thoughts.
No, she wouldn’t be dealing with those needs, he sternly reminded himself. He didn’t have those needs anymore. He’d learned to deny those needs. He trusted in his faith to overcome those sinful urges.
With a frustrated growl, he squeezed a generous amount of gel into the cloth once more and worked up more lather. More lather, more fragrance. Soon the steamy shower was saturated with the enticing scent of Kyanna. Glancing down, he grimaced at the painful, rock hard erection he now sported.
Not good, Xander. Get your head in the game.
He tried to clear away the lustful thoughts, offered prayer after prayer for self-control and patience. As with last night, his prayers weren’t helping much. Not when all he had to do was close his eyes and imagine the slick of rich, fragrant lather sliding down his body was the caress of Kyanna’s small, competent hands.
Kyanna checked the heat on the skillet, turned the knob down two settings, and then glanced over at the coffee pot. She couldn’t think on an empty stomach. He might not want or need breakfast. But she did. So what if she made a little extra. He had to eat too, didn’t he?
Or does he?
Gah, she’d drive herself crazy at this rate.
She could have used more time to herself. More time to think, to come up with a feasible plan. She’d bought some time with his shower, but she knew that wouldn’t last much longer. Why hadn’t she thought to call Summer earlier? Then she would have had clothing waiting for him already.
As if on cue, a muffled curse echoed through the thin walls. The water in the shower cut off quickly after that. She had a wat
er heater the size of a goldfish tank. She should have warned him.
A small, mischievous smile quirked her lips.
Oops.
Kyanna dropped thick slices of bacon into the skillet and watched them sizzle for a moment before she set to work cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. It was Saturday. Treasure Box didn’t open until ten. Closed at two. Then she had the rest of the weekend off. Alone. With the demon.
No, she wasn’t going there. She’d deal with it when the time came.
She glanced at the clock. Two hours to go. Plenty of time for a decent, relaxed breakfast.
Plenty of time for Summer to buy clothes for Xander.
Then what was she going to do with him?
In short order, she had coffee brewing, bacon sizzling, and a second pan ready for eggs. Just as she picked up the bowl of whipped eggs, a solid wall of heat curled around her from behind.
Xander’s inhalation was soul deep, and far too close to the side of her neck for her comfort. Sweet hollyhocks in a hamper, how had he snuck up on her without her noticing? A rough, unmistakably approving growl gurgled deep in his throat. She bobbled the bowl and swiftly set it on the counter before spinning around. Her mouth came so close to brushing up against his that she felt the heat of his breath skate her bottom lip. Her heart slammed, stuttered, slammed.
His hair was still damp. Except for that towel, he was so…naked. And his eyes—
His compelling, smoldering gray eyes all but devoured her.
For a split second, they flickered flaming red before returning to that turbulent gray.
Kyanna jolted. The edge of the countertop dug into the small of her spine as she pressed herself back. And still, scant inches separated them. Droplets of water glinted in his damp, spiky hair. Glistened on his golden skin. Lots and lots…and lots…of golden, very-naked skin. Crystalline beads rippled along his freshly shaved cheeks, slid down his neck, and tracked along the ridges of his defined abdomen to finally be absorbed by the thick pink towel wrapped around his lean waist. Low on his waist. Low enough to showcase an intriguing dusting of dark, coarse hair below his navel that thickened the farther south it went.
Her gaze dropped lower, drawn to—snagging on—the thick bulge that the terrycloth couldn’t conceal. A thick bulge that seemed to be growing larger the longer she stared. The palms of her hands began to itch. Need fluttered low in the pit of her stomach. How she longed to peel aside the towel and stroke what it concealed. The harsh grate of his voice brought her out of her hormone induced daze.
“Huh?” Kyanna squeaked, dragging her focus up the delectable expanse of male chest.
The edge of his mouth twitched, then his lower lip flattened. “You’re burning the bacon.”
“Oh.” She blinked, started. Jolted. “Oh!”
Turning, she snatched up the tongs and began flipping bacon. Not too bad, she breathed. Crispy but still edible.
Edible…hmm…
No! Do not go there, Ky.
Extending every possible effort not to even glance in his direction, Kyanna finished preparing breakfast. But she was fighting a losing battle. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t ignore the heaping helping of eye candy in the room. It took every last ounce of her willpower not to stare and drool as he bent forward to assess the contents of her refrigerator. He muttered beneath his breath, pushing salad components aside, rummaging through drawers.
“Sweet blessed Mary!”
Curious, bracing herself for diabetic coma, she peeked over her shoulder. Xander stood with the fridge door wide open, a can of Pepsi clutched in his hand, his expression that of a man who’d just discovered the Holy Grail. In a rush, he popped the top and set the can to his lips. Tilting his head back, he guzzled, never once coming up for air. She watched, mesmerized, as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow.
When the can was at last empty, he lowered it, his eyes closed, and he shuddered. Any other man, any other time, and she’d have sworn he’s just achieved a soul stroking climax. That look on his face did funny things to her insides.
After snagging another can of Pepsi from the fridge, Xander crossed the room and drew a chair from the table. Settling on the seat, he cracked the can open and sipped slowly this time, clearly savoring every drop.
“You will get more Pepsi.”
Blinking, eyebrows lifted at his imperious command, she turned away long enough to scoop the last of the eggs from the skillet and then confronted him. “What’s the magic word?”
His scowl came, swift and dark.
“You want Pepsi? You ask nicely.”
His eyes narrowed, but then his gaze dropped to the can in his hand. Dear heavens, it wasn’t as if she’d asked him to chew broken glass. And yet that was exactly how he was acting.
“Please.”
Yep. Broken glass. In every letter.
Clutching a fist to her chest, she gasped and grabbed the back of a chair, pretending to stagger. “Would you look at that? The demon used good manners. And he didn’t explode gooey green stuff all over my kitchen.”
He did not look amused.
Grinning, Kyanna began carrying everything to the table. “Would you like any of this?”
He stared for a long, dubious moment at the platter of eggs. Finally, Xander nudged his plate toward her with the backs of his knuckles. She scrapped a large helping onto the plate, added a few slices of bacon, and some toast. And then she stood there, staring at him. Waiting.
He stared right back.
She arched an eyebrow, pursing her lips. When he didn’t respond, she prompted, “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.” His bland expression couldn’t mask the sarcasm in his tone. He forked up a mouthful of eggs, offering a short grunt of what she could, at best, assume was approval.
Amused despite herself, she took a seat and dished up her own plate. She could have been eating cardboard, however, for all the good it was doing her. Her attention kept drifting to his naked chest.
Conversation. Make conversation.
But what did one talk about with one’s prisoner?
“So, tell me about Heaven.”
His expression went completely blank, all but for the raw longing swirling in the deep gray depths.
“You miss it, huh?”
“Obviously.”
Good morning, ladies and gentleman. For your breakfast entertainment, allow me to present Captain Sarcasm.
“What’s it like there?”
“Quiet,” he instantly shot back. Then he drew a deep breath, and it seemed his attention turned inward. “Soothing. Solitary.”
Now it was Kyanna’s turn to frown. Solitary?
“And what’s Hell like?”
“Hot.”
Encore, Captain Sarcasm. Please hold your applause, folks. He’ll be here…indefinitely.
Before she could press for more details, however, he surprised her, offering, “Crowded. Loud. The smell of brimstone sears your nose.”
Hmm. So Xander preferred peace and quiet. She was slowly learning more and more about him. She just had to read between the lines.
“How long have you been—?”
He shoveled in another huge forkful of eggs and waited.
“Penitent? Is that the correct word?”
A terse nod of his head was her only answer. “Well?” Why won’t he look at me?
“Almost two hundred years.” Bacon followed the eggs. She stared as he inhaled the food on his plate. Demon had a healthy appetite. Which begged the question, were all his appetites so healthy?
Focus, Ky!
“Two hundred years,” she echoed. “And you’ve fought other demons the whole time, put yourself in harm’s way like last night to save humans? Done all this in hopes of being forgiven and returned to Heaven?”
Again with the terse nod. �
��I have sworn to uphold good and battle evil wherever I find it. I renounce sins of the flesh and sins of the soul.”
Renounce sins of the flesh and sins of the soul?
That sounded so…monkish.
Wait. Was that what he had decided a portion of his penance should be? Living the life of a monk? A celibate monk?
She watched him devour his food and scoop more from the pan onto his plate, recalling her earlier musings about all his appetites.
Two hundred years worth of suppressed appetites?
Had the central air in here broken down? She barely stifled the urge to fan herself.
No. Surely she had to be wrong. A beyond-attractive guy like him? Celibate? The idea was too far-fetched to even lend credence.
Kyanna cleared her throat. “So what else do you do, you know, in between demon battles?”
He glanced up and frowned, clearly puzzled.
“Come on, you gotta have some down time, right?” She took a sip of coffee. Black with three teaspoons of sugar. Sweet perfection on her tongue. “What do you do? Watch TV? Read?” She couldn’t possibly be right about the whole celibate thing. And then an unsettling thought occurred to her. Would there be an angry demoness banging on her door soon? That possibility bothered her far more than it should, for all the wrong reasons. “Should I be on the lookout for one of your demon buddies to come looking for you? Or a girlfriend? Demoness or otherwise?”
A long moment passed, in which he began stirring the food around on his plate. A troubled frown darkened his brow. “I read.”
Such a font of information! Do I really need to resort to thumbscrews?
“Okay, what do you read?”
“Scripture.”
“And…”
“That is all.”
“No TV?”
He shook his head.
“And no girlfriend?” So she was being nosy. And maybe a bit obvious, considering the way he looked at her just then. She was just too surprised to care. At least that was the story she was going to go with.
Again, the shake of his head. This time, he pushed his nearly empty plate away and downed the rest of his Pepsi in one long gulp. “I am penitent.”
