I’m ashamed to admit my brain is too foggy and my body too weak to remember much about the shower. He washes me, gently stroking my skin while silently cursing the demon under his breath. He also makes promises to me. Promises to avenge everything Levi has done.
Afterward, he enfolds me in a terry cloth towel, helps me brush my teeth, and carries me to the bed. I’m a limp doll with a sodden heart.
The mattress dips when he sets me on it, and I clutch his bare arms. “Stay . . . please.”
His blue eyes darken.
Unlike me, he’s not wearing a towel. He’s comfortable in his nudity, comfortable with himself in a way most people can only hope to be, and I draw strength from that.
He climbs into the bed in front of me, and I curl into his chest. His arm slides over my waist, my towel the only thing separating us.
He’s warm, and even though he couldn’t stop my vomiting, he feels safe.
Sudden tears leak down my cheeks, the ferocity of them frightening. Shaking me. These tears have nothing to do with the demon and everything to do with me. These tears are deeper. Personal.
For the first time since I was a child, I let someone hold me. And he’s not only someone, he’s a stranger. A Stranger.
Ever since my father left Havenwood Falls and I accidentally caused the death of the man in town, I have pushed people away. Even Aunt Eloise. For years, I stepped out of her hugs because anything longer than a brief touch was too much.
“Let someone help you,” she had begged.
I was scared of hurting people and of getting hurt.
Sobs wrack my body. I cry for Eloise. I cry for my mother. I cry for my father. I cry for myself. Years of tears.
Tipping my face up gently, Lucas studies my tear-stained eyes, and then kisses me, his lips closing over mine, his warm mouth catching my teardrops.
Tender. Soothing. Fleeting.
Gone as quick as it began.
“Quit thinking,” he whispers. “Pain can be so deep that it’s hard to bring the people you’re too close to into that hurt. Sometimes it takes giving it to a stranger before you can open up to someone else.”
“How—”
“Just trust I know.”
I stare at him through eyes swollen from tears and madness. “Do you have anyone you’re close to?”
“A few.”
“Someone you love?”
“Friends.”
I let the word sink in, and then, “Have you ever been in love?”
“No.” The answer comes too fast.
“You’re a high-ranking fallen angel, and you’re telling me after all of the years you’ve existed—”
“An eternity.”
I glare, but fatigue takes all of the bite out of it. “You could have kept the eternity part to yourself because now that just makes this,” I point from him to me, “weird.”
He chuckles. “No, it makes me experienced.”
“Not helping. Now I’m self-conscious.” My lips curl into a smile. “And you’re changing the subject. You can’t tell me that in an eternity you haven’t fallen in love at least once.”
With his finger, Lucas traces a line from my forehead to my nose. “Three times,” he admits carefully. “Once before my fall. Two after. A mortal in the middle ages, a demon, and a witch.”
“What happened?” I ask.
His finger drops to my lips. “The mortal died. The witch and the demon fell in love with each other.”
I stare, unable to speak.
“And you, my little psychic?”
My head shakes.
“No one?”
Taking his finger, I remove it from my lips. “It’s hard to do relationships when you have to limit yourself so much. No cell phones, no texting each other, no movie theaters, or restaurants with fancy-scripted menus.” Reaching out, I caress his face, surprising myself with my boldness. He leans into my touch, the gesture boosting my confidence. “I had crushes. I even tried the whole boyfriend thing, but,” my fingers run through the stubble on his face, fascinated with the roughness, “it didn’t work out.”
“What about when you were in school?”
I shrug, one bare shoulder rising. “I was kept separated. There are two high schools in Havenwood Falls: Havenwood Falls High and the Sun and Moon Academy. The latter is a private school for supernatural students who don’t or can’t fit into the public school system. Guess where I went?” My lips curl. “They tried teaching me to read and write. I learned, but not without consequences. It took everything the Court’s witches had to keep the evil things I kept channeling contained. So, they developed a new way to teach me. I listened to audio textbooks and took verbal tests. Each of the Court members worked with me. Alone. I owe them so much.”
Tears prick my eyes again. “This town . . . it’s everything to so many people. To me.” I inhale. “Saundra Beaumont and her granddaughter, Addie, helped teach me science by doing experiments with me. Addie’s a year older than me, and it helped that I wasn’t the only child. The shifters would let me join them in the woods, tracking and learning. What I couldn’t learn outside the classroom, they found other creative ways to teach me. There’s a coffee shop in town, Coffee Haven, owned by a fae, Willow Fairchild. She displays art from local artists in the shop, and she’d bring pieces to show me outside. All kinds. Oil. Water color. Photography. I fell in love with the photography. Then . . .” My words trailing off, I cover my eyes. “You need to tell me to shut up.”
His hand cups my hip, and even through the towel, the touch burns. “Talk, Harper. Talk as much and as long and as big as you need to.”
I drop my hands, my incredulous gaze finding his face. “Where did you come from?” He just doesn’t seem real.
“From Hell,” he answers soberly. “From Hell and Heaven and everything in between. From myth and legend. From gods and goddesses. From the beginning of time until the end.”
“Why does that sound sad?” I ask.
“Because eternity is a very long time.”
Now I know why this feels so good and hurts so much. We are both lonely strangers. To each other, and maybe even to ourselves.
This time, I kiss him, my hands framing his face, my lips tentative. He opens for me, and our tongues slide together, the sensation sending a pool of heat to my core.
His hand tightens on my hip, his fingers digging into the towel.
My fingers slip into his hair, and suddenly I don’t care if I don’t know him. I don’t care if he isn’t human.
He runs his hand up my side, his fingers brushing the edge of my breast, and I arch against him.
“Harper,” he whispers.
“Please,” I whisper back.
He undoes the towel I’m wearing and replaces it with his skin. His mouth leaves mine, his lips leaving a trail of fire down my jaw, my neck, and my breasts.
I close my eyes because the feel of him is so much better than anything I could have imagined. He doesn’t demand anything. He simply gives, and I wonder if it’s because I’m not experienced.
What is happening with my life?
This isn’t the way I saw any of my firsts.
I certainly don’t hear any Van Morrison music.
Instead, I feel everything. The hard length of him against my thigh. His hands sliding over parts of me I’ve never shared with anyone else. His mouth creating heat in places that make my face burn.