“Please don’t tell me you’re a friend of Falon’s,” I muttered, finding my teeth intact. Thank God for that.
The angel grimaced. “Hell no. I’m not affiliated with that sorry bastard. Come on. I know a little watering hole nearby. We’ll get you washed up and order a round of shots.”
He led me along down the quiet street. I was puzzled for sure. An angel that wanted to do shots? Well, he was fallen.
“Thanks,” I said, calming as the adrenaline slowly began to fade. “You really saved my ass there.”
“I’m surprised you couldn’t save your own ass. You are the vampire wolf, are you not?”
“Vampire wolf,” I laughed. “That’s a good one. I guess you could say that. It’s been a long night. I was kind of taken by surprise.”
“I’m Willow.” He offered me a hand, which I accepted.
“Alexa.”
“Ah, the protector of mankind.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your name. That’s what it means. The protector of mankind.”
His words struck hard and sunk deep. I hadn’t known my name meant something so profound. After taking a human life tonight, hearing it felt like a slap in the face.
“If only that was true.” I smiled bitterly and my face hurt.
Willow tilted his head, studying me. “It could be.”
We stopped at an abandoned building with darkened windows, but when Willow pulled the battered wooden door open, light and music spilled out onto the street. A small weathered sign read Woody’s Pub.
“I love this place.” Willow’s smile became mischievous as he ushered me inside, his wings disappearing from sight.
I really wasn’t sure what to expect from this guy. I had very little experience with his kind, and what I knew of them was not good at all. Still, he’d saved my ass, and so far, Willow was nothing like Falon. A relief, to say the least.
The pub was relatively small. Most of the patrons were middle aged and older. A TV hung from the ceiling in a corner broadcasting a sports channel. Willow pulled me along, my hand clasped tightly in his much the way a protective parent might hold onto a child.
Without hesitation, he pushed through the door to the ladies’ room. A woman stood at the sink washing her hands. She caught sight of Willow in the mirror, then my battered face, and her jaw dropped. She pursed her lips in disapproval before hurriedly drying her hands. Her eyes met mine, and I waited, expecting her to say something. Another glance at Willow had her rushing for the door.
“Is bursting into the women’s washroom something you make a habit of doing?” I asked when we were alone. I busied myself wetting disposable hand towels with warm water.
“Not usually,” he laughed softly. “I never expected it to be occupied. This place isn’t known for having a lot in the way of female clientele.”
My face was a mess. Blood ran from my nose and lip. My left eye was bruised deep purple and swollen. Small bruises decorated my chin and forehead. Wincing in pain, I dabbed at the blood staining my skin.
“Here,” Willow reached to take the wet towel from me. “Let me help you.”
With a gentle hand, he turned my face toward him and began to clean my wounds. It was comforting and inviting. Though he was a stranger to me, I felt safe with him. Protected.
I perched on the edge of the counter, trying to figure out this fallen yet protective angel. I studied him closely. Long thick lashes framed his beautiful eyes. His skin was flawless and smooth. He smelled faintly of rain on a summer night. Though he was casually dressed in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, he had an ethereal glow. I could feel the light in him, a quality Falon didn’t have.
“Good thing your kind heals fast,” Willow mused, reaching for fresh towels.
“Thank you for helping me,” I said softly. “Oddly enough, getting my ass kicked has been the best part of my night.”
Willow carefully buried the bloody towels in the bottom of the garbage. I made a useless attempt at finger combing my hair. It was pointless really.
“Let’s go drink. Then you can tell me all about it.”
A few minutes later we were sitting across from one another at a small round table, several shots of tequila placed between us. I eyed the shot glasses warily. Tequila had not been my friend in the past.
“You first.” He slid a shot to me along with the saltshaker. A tray of limes sat within reach. “Take the shot and start talking.”
Simple enough. What did I have to lose other than sobriety? All the booze in the world wouldn’t erase my evening. I skipped the salt and went right for the tequila. Like always, it tasted how I’d imagine floor cleaner would taste. With a shudder, I choked down the shot and reached for a lime. It didn’t take long for the brutal liquor to hit me.
“Where should I start? With the lover I just caught in bed with another woman? Or the sister that works for the FPA who just took one of my best friends into custody?”