She was the woman from his premonition.
If it weren’t for her eyes, he may not have recognized her at all. He should have run in the opposite direction, or at least handed her over to the two cops when he saw her, but something held him back. Maybe it was her plea for help. His visions had always come true in the past. Always. By taking her home with him he could be signing his own death warrant, but Lord help him, he couldn’t leave her like this. Instead he helped her into the back of his car. Once she was cleaned up and fed he’d bring her right back here. He’d done this to her after all so it was his duty to fix it.
Chapter Three
His apartment was small and neat, exactly what she expected. He had carried her up the stairs. Carried. Her. A woman he didn’t even know. With her dirty threadbare clothes and greasy hair. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know that she lived on the streets. Most people wouldn’t even look at her. Why was he helping her?
Brice had learned quickly to hide behind her grimy mask. The same day of her…escape, three men tried to rape her. That was the first time she’d lost it. The first time …it had happened. All three died. She’d killed them. The whole attack was a blur, had only taken seconds. At least they deserved it. They would have killed her when they were done. Another gut feeling. But the old man from today had only tried to help her. He’d startled her while she slept and she’d panicked. Brice hadn’t meant to hurt him, and she prayed that he was okay. It was important that she continue to work hard at keeping the thing at bay. It was always there though, just below the surface. Always waiting for an opportunity to pounce.
It craved violence.
Except for the smallest stirring, she felt almost like her old self again in his presence. It was exhilarating. It was also terrifying, because she didn’t want this feeling to end. Her new found freedom was due to the man right in front of her. She didn’t believe in coincidence, it had to be him doing it. Brice needed to find out how he was doing it though.
“Tell me your name?” The need crept up on her and now she had to know.
Another half-smile was her only reward. She sat on his only sofa, the tall stranger next to her. He had just finished cleaning the cut on her head. His face was open, honest but hard, not the kind of face that belonged to a cop. In her new calm state, she was able to really look at him, and couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was with the slight cleft in his chin, the five o’clock shadow. The intensity of those steel grey eyes must guarantee him a string of women around the block.
He kneeled next to her sneaker, intent on removing it to administer first aid to her swollen ankle.
“Don’t.” She pulled her foot back fighting a wince. For the first time since she’d made the streets her home, she felt embarrassed by her appearance. Although he’d given no indication, she must really smell. Also, what he didn’t know was that she was feeling much better already. The only good side effect of having a monster inside her was that she healed quickly.
“So…” she paused, “…you’re not going to tell me?” She really had to know.
“I should be asking you, right along with why you had police chasing you.”
Point taken. For a few seconds she just stared into his eyes. More like drowned in them. Right now they were more blue than grey, naturally hooded and fanned with long, thick lashes.
“Bee. My name is Bee.” A half-truth. Her friends, when she still had friends, used to call her that. “They were chasing me because they can. No reason except that they think I’m homeless. I haven’t done anything if that’s your real question.”
“Bee.” It sounded so good on his lips. He rubbed his chin, the stubble catching. “I’m Garrett. Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink, some food? You’re welcome to use the bathroom… um… shower…if you want.”
Not so immune to her current state as she’d initially thought. Her first instinct was to shout yes to all of the above, but maybe not in that order. She held back.
“Garrett.” He reacted like maybe he liked the sound of his name on her lips. His jaw tensed up and his brow furrowed although not like before, not in anger. His eyes hooded some more. Could it be that he was attracted to her even though she looked and smelt the way she did? No, couldn’t be. “Why did you save me?”
“Because you asked me to.” Simple, and although he meant it, it wasn’t the real reason. She dropped it anyway. “Now…” he paused, “…I’m going to fix you something to eat.”
As much as the thought of eating had her salivating, she longed to take a shower, change out of these clothes and sleep. Since living on the streets, she’d had to bed down with one eye open and survive on snatches of sleep where ever she could find them. It wasn’t safe any other way. At least not for whoever caught her unawares. It wasn’t like that here though. Brice felt that if she lay down on his bed, she’d sleep forever. For the first time since…it had happened she was safe. Or rather, those around her were. Calm flooded her system, weaving and working its way through her body like a drug.
Garret stood up and made his way to the tiny open plan kitchen, his strides quick and determined. He probably went about everything in much the same way. The man was tall. She’d be blind not to notice how his well-worn jeans hugged his ass and thighs intimately. Like she could blame them. His shoulders were broad beneath a grey t-shirt. Her mouth watered. It had been ages since she had last eaten. Forever ago really.
Garrett leaned into the fridge and took out various food stuffs, but her eyes were riveted on his arms. More precisely, his generous biceps. Tattoos flirted around the edges of his sleeves. Even though she tried, she couldn’t make out what they were of. Brice licked her lips. He’d better hurry up with that food already. A strange hunger gnawed at her. It pulled her apart from the inside out. “Meat please.”
He turned those steely grey eyes on her, surprise edged in their depths. “Sure. No problem.” With that he moved back to the fridge. “Um…ham okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You said those cops thought you were homeless. Does that mean that you’re not?”
“Yes… no.” She had a home, so technically she wasn’t homeless even though she chose to live on the streets. Chose wasn’t exactly accurate. The thing had not been a choice, it had been forced on her, pushed into her, and very much against her will.
Frown lines cut between his expressive eyes. His gaze was utterly intriguing. “Which is it? Can’t be both.”
“I have no home to go to.” It was all true, technically at least. For some reason the thought of lying to him just didn’t sit right with her.
“Homeless then?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. At least until he dropped the best looking sandwich she had ever seen in her twenty seven years in front of her, and in all its glory. Then, she squealed. The show of emotion felt so incredible that, as her hand closed on the stacked ham, cheese and bread, her eyes closed in rapture. Brice moaned as she sank her teeth into the layered heaven. Mustard, mayo and salted meat accosted her senses. The crunch of the lettuce felt amazing. Of course, she’d spent the last four months keeping all of her emotions under lock and key, not allowing herself to feel anything. Another realization hit, her senses had also been heightened since the incident. The throw away food she’d manage to scrape together on the streets had tasted even more horrible because of it, so the opposite must also be true. She took another bite of the sandwich – definitely true.
With the thing… tethered… mostly… she could let her emotions soar and God did it feel good. Brice moaned again as she swallowed. She ate every bite like it was her first or maybe her last. When she was done, she took the glass of iced juice and drank deeply. Grape. Fresh, so delicious. By the time she finished the last sip her eyes were feeling heavy.
Bee felt relaxed and at peace after so many months of tension and strain, of minimal sleep on the cold, hard ground. It seemed her exhaustion had finally crept up on her...more like sla
mmed into her. “Garrett I need to sleep please… now.” It felt as if she had been given a sedative although she knew this was not the case.
“Of course. You must be feeling tired after… today, I’ll make a bed up for you.”
The last thing she wanted was to dirty his sheets but quite frankly she didn’t care. She was just too tired to give a damn, and she couldn’t explain it but she was overwhelmed with the need to be surrounded by his scent.
****
For the first time he noticed how pale she was under the layers of dirt and the dark bruises under her big, golden eyes. Making her lips seem all the more red. Dark wine stained, very moist since she was in the habit of flicking her tongue across their expanse every so often.
“No. Must be your bed. Please.”
An image of Bee, naked, rose up in his mind. Even though he may not have noticed at first. With good reason. The vision had taken place in his bedroom. In the very bed she planned to sleep in right now.
“I’ll grab a sheet. Making up a bed won’t take a minute.” Even though the thought of her in his bed didn’t distress him nearly as much as it should.
“No, please. I need to feel safe. Has to be your bed.” Damned if he could argue with that. Her time on the street must have been one solid nightmare. There was no other choice, what harm could it do? She obviously needed four solid walls and maybe a door she could lock, even from him. He nodded.
Even though she protested weakly, he picked her up and carried her to his bedroom. The fragile woman in his arms was already asleep before he got her there. So he moved the covers to the side and slid her in. The whole reason why he had became a cop was to protect the weak. It was why he had agreed to become a Demon Control Agent as well.
Garrett took off her sneakers and bandaged her ankle, even though it didn’t look nearly as bad as what he had originally thought. The bruises had a greenish ting and already looked faded. Maybe it was an old injury.
Bee. Such a happy, carefree name. He noticed how her lashes fanned her cheeks, this woman was all innocence. It was unreasonable, but he felt a deep seated need to protect her at all costs. Not something he’d felt in long time.
His vision.
How could he so easily have forgotten? If it had been correct…If? Since when had he ever felt the need to remind himself that his visions always came true? Yet, the future was not set in stone. It could still change. However unlikely.
Garrett pulled up the covers, stuffing his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from smoothing the hair from her brow. So sweet, so serene. Innocent, the word lingered in his mind. Yet, he’d be a fool to believe it.
Thank God Demon Chasers had evolved since the days of brimstone and fire. They even had the support of the government, with members stemming as high as the White House itself. Garrett logged onto his computer and then onto the Demon Control Agency website. It was high time he found out who or what the hell he was dealing with. Her neck. His vision. The two joker cops. There were just too many coincidences for there not to be a connection. There had to be more to it.
After an hour of searching, he was just about ready to slam his laptop closed in frustration when a message came through.
High priority. Red Flag.
Warning!
It was a picture of Bee. Full of life and bubbling energy. Beautiful in a lime green, strappy summer dress. It accentuated her curves and those stunning golden eyes. Her full name was Brice Darkstead and she’d been missing for a little over four months. His heart sank. It couldn’t be. Apprehend with extreme caution. Not a warning the Agency doled out casually. The woman sleeping in his bed was a suspected hybrid and a suspect in the assault of an elderly homeless man just last night. His heart sank down the rest of the way colliding with rock bottom. Of all the demon species, it had to be one of the most aggressive unknown ones. There was a nice little slice of demon skin inside her. Skins were bad motherfuckers. It had to be a mistake. Bee…Brice was so controlled, sweet. He had only spent a short time with her, yet had seen no sign of the demon that must be lurking just below the surface.
His vision.
Her face distorted. Gleaming fangs as sharp as daggers. Her intention of ripping his throat out clear on her face. In that instant, she had looked very much the part. Only one thing to do about it, he picked up his phone and even dialled the first few numbers before slamming the device shut.
“Damn!” He couldn’t do it. Garrett knew full well what happened to captured hybrids. Dangerous lethal creatures. That was referring to the ones with tame demon species. For the good of humanity, hybrids were put to death. No exceptions. The problem was that they had started life as humans and had only taken a part of the demon inside of them later on. Never being able to learn to control the traits of that particular species.
Before he called this in to DCA, he and Brice would have a little talk. For whatever reason, he felt he owed her that much. The truly strange thing was that he felt no danger. His instincts told him to trust her. And in as much as his visions were always accurate, his gut had never let him down before either. It was all a part of his gift. His curse. Depending on how you looked at it.
****
Just as the first streaks of light tainted the sky, Brice opened her eyes. She sucked in a deep lungful of air and sat upright. The peace, the calm, the quiet gone. The thing was back. Just a whisper, but there. That hated feeling that she was no longer fully under control was back as well. Instantly she craved the silence. Craved the man who had brought it.
As she got off the bed and stood, she noticed her ankle was fully healed. The door to his bedroom was shut, so she opened it. It was an instantaneous feeling of calmness as the thing pulled back. She closed her eyes breathing a sigh of relief. A few more steps and she could see him stretched out on the sofa. Asleep. A sheet barely covered his hips.
That gnawing hunger was back. Shit on a chocolate sundae, but she was seriously turned on. It couldn’t be. No way. It wasn’t just her, the thing was also turned on. For the first time since…she had become possessed for lack of a better word, the thing and her were in agreement. They both wanted the same thing. Him. Broad chest with a smattering of hair. Biceps a man could seriously be proud of and those tattoos. There was one of a dragon, it was big, black and spread across his chest. Before she could catch a look at the one on his arm, a third one caught her attention. It was on his stomach, unfortunately, mostly covered by white cotton. She could make out the first two words…Until you…Bee found herself leaning forward desperate for more. Desperate to know what was written there. Wanting to trace each and every word with her tongue. So close to his…oh God…lapping and laving all the way to…Where did that come from? Surely not from her. Had to be from…the thing. Before she could think on it, Garrett turned restlessly, he crinkled his nose. Did she reek so badly she was going to wake him up? Damn it. One foot behind the other, she backed up. Slowly.
The bathroom was inter-leading off his bedroom. Just the thought of washing all of the filth off of her was exhilarating. Bee traced her way back, leaving the door open. All the while, the thing stayed silent. It was only when she tried to close the bathroom door that it reared up. If the doors were open it was happy to rest, but if she tried to shut Garrett away it clawed its way to the surface. She tested the theory a couple of times opening and closing the door. Unbelievable. The thing was content when it felt he was near. Aggravated when it felt closed off from him. What was she supposed to do? Live out the rest of her life with him. Hardly. It was not about to happen. Best she enjoy the freedom and start preparing herself for when she left. This could be her little vacation. Maybe he would let her visit from time to time. Why did things have to be so complicated?
It had been so long since she had felt normal, she’d almost forgotten how much she liked it. To have her life back. Friends. Family. Purpose. All she’d been doing was surviving. Concentrating every minute of every day on staying calm.
It would be bet
ter if she was quick in the shower. The doors were wide open. As attracted to him as she was, he was still a stranger. Yet, the thought of him seeing her naked didn’t offend her nearly as much as it should have.
Bee pulled the layers of clothes off, letting them fall in a stinking pile at her feet. As she looked down, she was touched and a little embarrassed that Garret had taken the time to bandage her foot. Next she adjusted the faucets until the water was just right. Unable to help it, she groaned as the first spray hit her. Grabbing the shower gel, she lathered a thick layer both onto her hair and her body. It smelt distinctly male. Like him. She had to suppress another moan at the thought. Once rinsed, she began again by reapplying another layer. The problem was, as she watched the filth pour down the drain, it felt as if she was washing away the last few months. That if she scrubbed hard enough, maybe the thing would go too. It was a dangerous thought because instinctively she knew that she would never be rid of it. It was as much a part of her as her own heart now. Its tendrils ran deep anchoring right into her soul. To sever such an intimate connection was to die.
****
So much for her needing to feel safe. Needing to sleep in his room. So much for locking the damned door. Forget locking, the least she could have done was close the door. Thank God for frosted glass.
He’d been in the process of reaching for his gun, the one he’d stashed under his pillow, when he heard the shower. Garrett had never realized how perfectly lined up the bedroom and the bathroom were. How easy it was to look straight into the shower. How small his apartment really was. The frosted glass did plenty to obscure his view. It didn’t do nearly enough though. He could still make out each feminine curve from the flare of her hip to the curve of her deceptively full breasts. With difficulty, he looked away, took his weapon and stood. Garrett meant to get dressed and as far away as his small apartment would allow him to when the shower stopped and Bee stepped out. Their eyes locked. His blood thickened, heated, searing a path through his body. Every part of him awakened. Especially one part in particular.
Spring Feve Page 21
