Damn near broke her eyelids as she fixed her stare on her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t going to look at the tub again.
She wasn’t.
She didn’t. Just.
Teeth clean, she hurried from the room, hurried into Nathanial’s, hit her armpits with an icy stream of deodorant—not Axe, as it turned out, but something called Jack Black Pit Boss that smelled divine—and ran back to the closed door of her room.
“Well, that looked like a mission.”
A soft gasp burst from her at the sound of Nathanial’s voice.
Gripping the doorknob like a lifeline, she turned to face him.
Holy crap, he’s just as hot as you remembered.
Standing a little way down the hallway, one shoulder pressed to the wall, he smiled at her, eyes twinkling with mirth. Behind him, the door to the living room was closed. “Did you sleep well?”
She caught herself before she could run a hand through her hair. Instead, she mimicked his relaxed stance against her doorframe. “Like an abducted actress.”
He laughed, the sound low and throaty. “That good, eh?”
A smile curled her lips before she could stop it.
His nostrils flared. A muscle in his jaw bunched. “If you wish to take a shower, there are clean towels in the bathroom, plus unused soap in the top drawer, along with toothpaste and, I think, a toothbrush still in its unopened packet.”
Great. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t want a shower. What would she say? Sorry, Knight. I can’t have a shower because I’m pretty certain I’ll have some kind of full-blown sexual experience in there if I do. Hell, just looking at it started a porn movie in my head starring you and yours truly.
She swallowed and nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
He studied her. “I promise, I will not enter the room, Billie. You can lock the door if you choose, but you’re safe with me.”
Yeah, but I’m so not safe with my own freaking imagination.
“Thanks,” she repeated.
His eyes connected with hers, held her gaze, driving her heart faster and harder into her throat—and then he turned away.
“Knight?”
He froze at her call. Didn’t look at her. “Billie?”
The way he said her name, the strained control, the undercurrent of a longing she felt herself in her very being, played havoc with her sanity. “Have you found Gilbert yet?”
His fingers tightened into fists for a heartbeat. For just a second the air shimmered behind him. “I’m working on it,” he said. “There are unexpected complications, but I hope to have it sorted soon.”
“Okay.”
He reached for the door leading into the living room. “I promise, Billie, you are safe. I will not let anyone harm you.”
“Okay.”
His eyes met hers over his shoulder, a quick clash that sent a lick of something hot and tight into her core. “Enjoy your shower.”
“Nathanial?”
“Yes?”
“I need answers. You know that, right? More than what you’ve given me so far.”
He closed his eyes with a shaky sigh before nodding his head. “I know. And I will answer every question you ask of me.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
A beautiful iridescent light flared in his eyes for a second. “For abducting you?”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I have told you that you make a lousy comedian, haven’t I?”
With a low chuckle, he opened the door, crossed the threshold and closed it behind him.
She slumped against the wall, pinching her thumbnail.
Enjoy her shower?
God help her, would she even survive her shower?
A dry laugh scratched at the back of her throat. Screw it. She was going to enjoy her shower, alright. Maybe if she masturbated the thought of the bastard out of her system she’d be able to get her act together. Angel or no, she was sick of the forced role of damsel in distress.
Horny damsel in distress, you mean.
“I wonder if Siri can get me the location for the nearest Stockholm Syndrome Anonymous group,” she muttered, stomping back toward the bathroom.
She spent the entire time under the water doggedly thinking about anything else but Nathanial Knight.
Destiny’s Knight’s upcoming filming schedule was going to be brutal. Her character was meant to fall under the sway of a beautiful but mysterious siren of dubious motivation, leading to a love triangle between said siren, Destiny, and Destiny’s true love, Benjamin Knight, a cop who also happened to be a wise-cracking werewolf with a tormented past.
Word had leaked online about the upcoming story line, and already the show was getting hate mail about the pairing. Not so much from Destamin shippers, but from Wrastiny zealots.
God, couldn’t they have come up with a better shipping name for Destiny and Wraif? And really, the fact there were Wrastiny shippers out there still, after all the horrific, depraved things Wraif had done throughout the years, not only to Desinty, but to those Destiny loved…
“Fans are odd,” she muttered, shampooing her hair.
The fans pay your mortgage.
That was true, and she loved them for it. Well, not Gilbert.
Had she ever met him? Had he ever approached her at a convention? She’d needed bodyguards at the last San Diego Comic-Con, and for a while the online gossip sites had been lathering over a supposed relationship between her and the hulking-big Scot in charge of the team. Adelaide had gleefully encouraged the rumors, feeding the ravenous horde with supposed tidbits of what Billie and Angus were up to.
More than one image of Billie and Angus eating breakfast or swimming at a private location had surfaced online, although Billie knew Adelaide was the only person who’d been aware of the moments she and Angus were together in any capacity. Every photo had been conveniently cropped to cut Riccardo—her PA—from the shot, making the situations look far more intimate than they were.
At the time, Billie had wondered if Adelaide knew of her secret relationship with the show’s producer, and was using the poor Angus as a way to keep everyone’s attention away from the real situation. Now, with a crazy man trying to hunt her down, she considered the very real possibility Adelaide was hoping Billie and Angus really were having a thing.
What better way to keep an obsessed stalker at bay than to have an intimidating Scot protecting the object of his twisted affection twenty-four seven?
Of course, Angus had quit being a bodyguard two weeks after SDCC, right around the time Billie had ended her tumultuous relationship with the show’s cheating producer. She’d withdrawn from public life to lick her wounds and regroup.
And now she was being protected by an angel.
“Who is far more intimidating than Angus ever was,” she murmured, reaching for the tap.
And sexier than anything else on the planet.
“And there you go thinking about Knight again.”
A wave of tight heat rolled through the junction of her thighs. Her nipples beaded.
She stood still, the water rippling down her bare body, her heart racing.
For all the insanity, surreal mystery, unanswered questions and mind-bending realizations—angels? Real angels? Djinns? Real genies?—she did feel safe with Nathanial. She enjoyed their vocal sparring, his dry sense of humor. She appreciated his gentle calm. She couldn’t help but smile anytime he did. As far as relationships went, it was the healthiest one she’d had since Mr. Connett, her fifth-grade teacher, who’d made everyone in his class believe they could do anything.
Was that why she’d kissed him? Because he made her feel hope? In all this craziness, she didn’t only feel safe, she felt…
“Real.”
The single word fell from her on a breath.
She’d spent her life pretending to be something else—the pious daughter her mother wanted, the submissive crutch her best friend wanted, the silent sexual partner her producer wanted. So many of the significant peop
le in her life wanted her to not be her. Adelaide was the only one who wanted her to be herself, but even with Adelaide, Billie was something else: the actress who said the lines written for her, who turned up at the conventions and events and smiled when the cameras pointed at her.
She was none of those things with Nathanial. She felt no need to be anyone but herself with him.
And that’s why you kissed him. Because every emotion you’ve experienced since he entered your life has been real. Every action you’ve taken has been yours.
Every action. Every decision. Including the decision to kiss him.
“But you can’t do that again.” Shaking her head, she stepped out of the bath, crossed the bathroom and slid a towel from the rack. “Because this situation is insane. Got it?”
Wrapping herself in the towel, she turned and looked at the bath. Pictured Nathanial standing in it…
Damn it, for her sake, she hoped the Gilbert situation was over before sundown. If she had to shower in here again, she’d masturbate herself to a puddle. Or throw herself at Nathanial and beg him to take her to sexual heaven and back.
A dry bark left her, and she turned away from the bath. “Heaven, get it? Good grief, Sheridan, you’re in trouble here.”
* * * *
“All good?”
Closing the hallway door behind him, Nathanial slid his gaze to Erah, currently lounging in the armchair studying the tip of his left boot.
“Yes,” he said, moving to the opposite armchair. “The pipes in this house are dodgy. I’ll need to call a plumber. The toilet often—”
“I really don’t want to know about the necessities of human bowel movements,” Erah complained, raising his hands at Nathanial with an exasperated frown. “All you needed to say was this structure you now call a home makes weird noises sometimes.”
“This structure I now call a home makes weird noises sometimes,” Nathanial deadpanned.
Erah flashed a grin at him. “See? Was that hard?”
Thankfully, Erah had little understanding of the hows and whys of a toilet, otherwise he’d be suspicious of the fact the toilet had flushed earlier when there was meant to be no one but Nathanial in the house.
The faint sound of water running through the pipes again began to vibrate through Nathanial. The shower. Billie was in the shower.
His gut clenched. His heart quickened. What would she look like in there? If he opened the door to the room, what would she do?
Stop it.
“Have you located Gilbert?” he asked, forcing his full attention onto his brother angel.
Erah shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. You’re right. There is something unusual about his soul transaction. I should be able to slip into his thread easily, but there’s nothing.”
“Dead?” A tiny shard of hope sank into Nathanial’s chest.
“No, it’s as if he’s concealing himself.” Erah’s frown grew angry. “Or perhaps it’s this forsaken lump of dirt mankind walks on that’s hampering my ability to detect him. You may have mastered the art of location in your fallen capacity, brother, but I wonder if I need to be…not here to tap into the realm?”
Nathanial dropped his head into his hands and raked them through his hair. For the last three hours, he and Erah had discussed who could possibly be responsible for elevating Gilbert from soulless, obsessed man, to what presented itself as demonic status. Erah had translocated in and out frequently, following hunches. To no avail.
At one point, Nathanial himself had risked trying to locate Gilbert’s thread again, but—as Erah watched him closely, stare locked on his face, wings stretched behind him, as if ready to downward thrust—all he could sense was the weak residue of the man’s depraved lust. Too faint and displaced to snag.
However, even that slight brush with Gilbert’s obsessive hunger had stirred Nathanial’s desire for Billie and, with a sharp hiss, he’d withdrawn his mind from the ethereal plane.
It was too dangerous.
“I’m going.”
Erah’s statement made Nathanial jerk his head up, and he frowned. “Going?”
Was it selfish of him to be glad? Keeping Erah unaware of Billie was exhausting.
Or is it that you just want to relax with her? Pretend you’re a normal man, in the company of a woman you admire?
Perhaps, but that existence was beyond him.
Erah flashed a grin. “By the way, don’t think I’ve forgotten you’re in this mess because of the human female. Or that the very forbidden emotions you have for her have complicated things for you again. Do you want me to check in on her?”
“No.” Hell, he’d said that too quickly. He pulled a steadying breath. “I’ve got her protected. She’s being watched.”
Erah cocked an eyebrow.
“A djinn I know. Owes me a favor.”
“You trust a djinn?” Erah shook his head. “You really have gone soft, brother. I’ll be back when I find something out. Don’t go anywhere.”
Before Nathanial could reply, Erah vanished.
“Don’t go anywhere.” He slumped back in the armchair, dragging a hand down his face. “Idiot.”
“You?”
Jolting straight out of the chair, he snapped his stare on Billie, leaning against the frame of the now-open hallway door.
“Or the other guy?” she finished, a small smile playing with her lips.
“What?” He should not feel so happy to see her. Nor should he enjoy so much the act of looking at her.
She was back in his sweatpants and her black tank top. Her hair tumbled about her face in damp strands that stirred a base response in him he fought to ignore.
“You showered,” he said. The soap he used lingered on her skin. He could smell it from where he stood, and that, too, stirred him.
Glibert’s desire for her?
No. His own. God help him.
“I showered.” Pushing herself from the doorframe, she crossed to the armchair Erah had just been sitting in and dropped into it. “So, who’s the idiot? You, or the guy who just,” she lifted her hands to her shoulders and flapped them three times in quick succession, “flew away?”
“Erah.” He smiled. “And he would not be impressed to see you reduce his wings to such a small span.”
“Ahh, so he is another angel?” She nodded, clearly impressed with herself. “I figured as much.”
“He does radiate a certain grace.”
She laughed. “It was more the arrogance and mightier-than-thou attitude I was talking about. It’s a very angel thing.”
“Hey.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Okay, you’re not as bad as you were when we first met.”
Grinning, he dipped his head in a small nod. “Thank you. I’m flattered. I think.”
“Welcome. Was I right in not coming out here? Waiting until he left?”
With a sigh, he lowered himself back into his chair. “You were. Erah is helping me locate Gilbert, true, but he’s not—” He stopped himself from saying your biggest fan.
An understatement, to be sure.
Fuck her and forget her. That’s what Erah had said about Billie an eternity ago—and he’d said the very same words after Nathanial had revealed who Gilbert was obsessed with.
“Fuck her, brother,” Erah had snarled at him from the very chair she now sat in. “Fuck her until you shake the very walls of Heaven. Indulge yourself in the carnal pleasures the human female offers, and then forget her. Purge her from your mind and soul, erase her from your thoughts completely so you can refocus on your true purpose, and maybe return to where you truly belong. Fuck her and forget her.”
A soft laugh fell from Billie and she repositioned herself, Buddha style, in the chair. “He’s not into humans?”
Nathanial smiled. “Let’s go with that.”
She laughed again. “Okay. So…do you have an update? When am I safe to be set free in the world again? True, the show is on hiatus at the moment, but my absence is going to be noted at some point. Unless
you have someone pretending to be me back in LA. Please tell me you don’t have someone pretending to be me back in LA.”
“Worried your fans will catch on?”
She blinked. “No. God no. Have you seen the way I interact with fans? I’m pretty crazy. I don’t think they ever know what to expect from me. No, I’d hate the thought someone could get hurt pretending to be me. As it is, I’m a little worried for the look-a-likes on Hollywood Boulevard. What if Gilbert is so far…gone, he goes after one of them thinking she’s me?”
“He won’t.”
She frowned. “And you know this how?”
How much did he tell her? “When a human sells their soul for something or someone, they become immediately and irrevocably entwined with that thing. Or person.”
Her frown deepened. “So what you’re saying is, Gilbert now has this, what? Connection to me? And he knows where I am?” She pinched her thumbnail, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip. “I don’t think I like that idea at all.”
Nathanial sighed. “It’s one of the reasons I had to remove you from your home. Distance you from anyone who could get hurt.”
And the other reason?
He swallowed.
Self-contempt and guilt boiled through him at the other reason.
He wanted her to get to know him. He knew her…her heart, her soul. Her fears. He knew she questioned daily if she was worth the attention and adoration her fans gave her, knew she wondered if the people nice to her only were so because she was famous. He knew she anonymously gave almost a quarter of her income to animal shelters, not seeking recognition for it, just wanted to help neglected living creatures find love.
He knew she dialed her mother’s number every night, the mother who told her she was nothing but a slut, a whore, for choosing to become an actress. He knew she sat listening to the dial tone, waiting, aching for her mother to answer the call. He knew she cried tears of pain and heartache and rejection every night when her mother didn’t.
He knew her.
But she knew nothing of him.
That was the way it was meant to be, the way it should be.
Until he’d denied his Creator’s Word and fallen for her.
Destiny's Knight: A Fallen Angel Protector Paranormal Romantic Suspense Book (Guarded Souls 1) Page 10
