“She’s in a coma.” He pinned Gem with a hard stare. “But I’ll make sure I’m here the moment she comes out of it.”
Tayla might have blown up the hospital, but now, it seemed, she’d done him a favor.
Eighteen
Tayla woke to the delicious smell of something spicy and Italian. Assuming that a dangerous demon wouldn’t have broken into the apartment to cook, she showered in Eidolon’s luxurious bathroom—white marble with a shower stall the size of her apartment’s bedroom—and when she got out, a plush robe lay on the bed.
Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she donned it and padded to the kitchen, where he was stirring some sort of cream sauce on the stove.
“Hey,” she said. “You look good for a guy who nearly died last night.”
“Is that what Shade told you?”
“Actually, he said you weren’t easy to kill.”
He poured some spiral noodles into a colander. “I’m not.” He shot her a wink. “But don’t think I’ll tell you how to do it.”
That stung. It shouldn’t. She understood—she wouldn’t tell someone trained to kill her how to go about doing it. But it still hurt.
She climbed onto a bar stool and sat at the island as he scooped pasta and sauce onto two plates. It smelled awesome and looked even better. “You keep surprising me,” she murmured, as he slid the plate in front of her.
“Because I can cook? I’m a hundred years old. You learn a few things in that much time.”
“I guess I’m just surprised that you’re so . . . domestic.”
Grinning, he pulled up a stool next to her. “I do my own laundry, too.”
“I’ll bet you have a maid, though.”
His grin turned sheepish. “Maybe. Now eat. Doctor’s orders.”
Smiling, she picked up her fork. One bite, and she was lost to ecstasy. The pasta melted in her mouth, and the cheese sauce exploded with complex flavors that warmed her from the inside.
How long had it been since she’d eaten real food? The Aegis didn’t pay well, mainly because funding came from largely private sources and, according to Lori, a few government agencies that siphoned off money where they could. But with so many cells around the world, most of the money went toward supporting the group rather than the individual. Which was why most Guardians lived at headquarters, where they were sheltered and fed as much boxed macaroni and cheese and canned ravioli as they could eat.
She finished her plate before Eidolon was halfway through his, and that was when she noticed the reason he’d stopped eating. His eyes, focused on the gaping openings in the robe that bared the swells of her breasts and one thigh, glowed gold. She became aware of the cool air that caressed her exposed skin, and of the burning stare that negated it. The promise of untamed sex radiated from him, the hunger in his eyes having nothing to do with the food on their plates.
“God, Hellboy, what are we doing?”
Abruptly, his eyes flashed back to their normal color. He closed them with a sigh. “I don’t know.”
She could still feel the heat of his gaze lingering on her skin like an erotic sunburn. “I wish . . .” What? That she were a kid again? Being abused by druggies her mom brought home? That she were a teen? Living in foster homes and the streets? That this was a month ago, when she was alone with nothing but hate to keep her alive?
Because truth was, she’d never been happy. Until now.
“What do you wish, Tayla?” Eidolon was looking at her, his gaze warm and soft.
“Nothing.”
He took her hands, pulled her so that her stool slid across the tile and she was practically in his lap. “Tell me.”
“I just wish . . . I wish I had something of my own. I have nothing to my name. I’ve had very little of value in my entire life. All I have is The Aegis and my word, and now I don’t even have The Aegis anymore.”
He dug into his jeans’ pocket and withdrew a small silver band. “You have this.”
“My mom’s ring,” she whispered. She slipped it onto her finger, the familiar weight comforting and welcome, and she could hardly breathe for the emotion that clogged her throat.
Next thing she knew, she was in his arms and he was kissing her neck and telling her she was beautiful and sexy and that he would give her anything she wanted.
She wanted to cry. No one, no human, had ever said those things to her, had ever made her feel beautiful and sexy.
“This is crazy,” she moaned, as his hands slipped inside her robe and cupped her breasts.
“And?” He nipped her shoulder, where the collar had slipped down. She wanted him to bite harder, but he licked the spot, soothing it, wringing shivers of pleasure from her.
“Just saying,” she sighed, because when he touched her, all other worries and cares flew out his high-rise window.
She shifted to give him better access, her hip brushing against the bulge behind his jeans’ zipper, and he hissed against her skin. “I need to be inside you. I want to take you until we both pass out.”