living room, despite the fact that he was about to fall over, without the aid of a thuggish boot this time. He gazed around the room, at her television, her laptop on the big knee-hole desk, her bookcases and DVD shelves, as though surprised she could have interests other than blood and her own bar. The case for the documentary about India she’d been watching this afternoon lay on the floor in front of the television. Most of her DVDs were about the places she’d never seen and never would.
He said, “I just need the drink and the aspirin.”
She walked past him into the bedroom and set the drinks down on the bedside table. Then she went back for him and took his hand, leading him into the bedroom.
“Angyalka, don’t do this to me.” His voice was light, and yet he wasn’t quite amused.
She pushed him onto the bed. “Do what?”
“Force me to see you and a bed in the same place. It isn’t kind. Not in my condition.”
“I’m a vampire. I’m not known for kindness.” His words didn’t displease her, though. She wouldn’t think about that. She pushed the glass into his hand and held out the aspirin.
After the faintest pause, he put the tablets in his mouth and knocked them back with the whisky. Angyalka knelt and lifted his legs, placing them on the bed. When he resisted, she placed her palm against his chest so that he fell back against the pillows.
“Be still. If your ribs are cracked, you’ll need a doctor. Or at least Elizabeth.”
“And how will you tell?” he asked politely.
“Magic,” she said and eased his jacket off his shoulders. He helped her with that, wincing almost imperceptibly, but when she reached for the buttons of his shirt, his hands lifted as if he’d stop her. Then he dropped them into his lap and just watched her face.
She smiled. “Good boy.”
There was a bruise, from a fist or a boot, on his left side. But she’d been right about his arms and chest. His upper body was thick and hard with muscle. His heart hammered under her palm. She inhaled the powerful scent of his blood as she closed her eyes and ran both hands slowly over his chest. His skin was hot and had its own distinctive smell—spicy soap and human male. Hunter. This hunter.
She could do it now. Chain his hands to her bedposts and have her way with his splendid male body. She smiled, counting his ribs, listening to his rushing blood, his very nerves. She opened her eyes and let her gaze drift downward over his abdomen and the line of tempting brown hair pointing down into his trousers. Oh yes.
He might be dog-tired and bruised, but, judging by the bulge in his jeans, he wasn’t averse to a little sex. She wouldn’t mind going to work on that.
Arousal pooled damply between her thighs. Mind on the job, Angyalka.
“I don’t think anything’s broken and you have no internal injuries,” she said calmly. “Wait there and I’ll clean up your face.”
“Angyalka, I can wash my own face,” he protested.
“Allow me,” she said, whisking into the bathroom and returning with a damp cloth. Although he blinked at her speed, he didn’t seem put out by it. “I owe you,” she added, sitting back down on the bed beside him.
“For what?” he demanded. “I’m not so full of shit that I can’t admit you saved my ass out there. I owe you .”
She shrugged. “You brought me back in.” And made me feel safe. She paused, the cloth just touching the cut on his lip, and stared at him, suddenly stricken.
She’d gone outside for him. Whether to preserve her revenge possibilities or her person from Saloman’s wrath, or because it was the right thing to do, she’d done it. And he’d got her back, made her safe, made her laugh.
He’d wiped out a debt, not begun a new one.
His brow twitched. “I won’t shout it from the rooftops, you know.”
She curled her lips and dabbed gently at the cut. He didn’t wince. “No. You’ll just add it to whatever biography of me you keep in the hunters’
He said, “I just need the drink and the aspirin.”
She walked past him into the bedroom and set the drinks down on the bedside table. Then she went back for him and took his hand, leading him into the bedroom.
“Angyalka, don’t do this to me.” His voice was light, and yet he wasn’t quite amused.
She pushed him onto the bed. “Do what?”
“Force me to see you and a bed in the same place. It isn’t kind. Not in my condition.”
“I’m a vampire. I’m not known for kindness.” His words didn’t displease her, though. She wouldn’t think about that. She pushed the glass into his hand and held out the aspirin.
After the faintest pause, he put the tablets in his mouth and knocked them back with the whisky. Angyalka knelt and lifted his legs, placing them on the bed. When he resisted, she placed her palm against his chest so that he fell back against the pillows.
“Be still. If your ribs are cracked, you’ll need a doctor. Or at least Elizabeth.”
“And how will you tell?” he asked politely.
“Magic,” she said and eased his jacket off his shoulders. He helped her with that, wincing almost imperceptibly, but when she reached for the buttons of his shirt, his hands lifted as if he’d stop her. Then he dropped them into his lap and just watched her face.
She smiled. “Good boy.”
There was a bruise, from a fist or a boot, on his left side. But she’d been right about his arms and chest. His upper body was thick and hard with muscle. His heart hammered under her palm. She inhaled the powerful scent of his blood as she closed her eyes and ran both hands slowly over his chest. His skin was hot and had its own distinctive smell—spicy soap and human male. Hunter. This hunter.
She could do it now. Chain his hands to her bedposts and have her way with his splendid male body. She smiled, counting his ribs, listening to his rushing blood, his very nerves. She opened her eyes and let her gaze drift downward over his abdomen and the line of tempting brown hair pointing down into his trousers. Oh yes.
He might be dog-tired and bruised, but, judging by the bulge in his jeans, he wasn’t averse to a little sex. She wouldn’t mind going to work on that.
Arousal pooled damply between her thighs. Mind on the job, Angyalka.
“I don’t think anything’s broken and you have no internal injuries,” she said calmly. “Wait there and I’ll clean up your face.”
“Angyalka, I can wash my own face,” he protested.
“Allow me,” she said, whisking into the bathroom and returning with a damp cloth. Although he blinked at her speed, he didn’t seem put out by it. “I owe you,” she added, sitting back down on the bed beside him.
“For what?” he demanded. “I’m not so full of shit that I can’t admit you saved my ass out there. I owe you .”
She shrugged. “You brought me back in.” And made me feel safe. She paused, the cloth just touching the cut on his lip, and stared at him, suddenly stricken.
She’d gone outside for him. Whether to preserve her revenge possibilities or her person from Saloman’s wrath, or because it was the right thing to do, she’d done it. And he’d got her back, made her safe, made her laugh.
He’d wiped out a debt, not begun a new one.
His brow twitched. “I won’t shout it from the rooftops, you know.”
She curled her lips and dabbed gently at the cut. He didn’t wince. “No. You’ll just add it to whatever biography of me you keep in the hunters’
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