Dark Admirer (7 page)

Her gaze strayed to his hands which were fisted at his sides. They were strong, beautiful man’s hands, and they had touched her as reverently as if she’d been a priceless relic.

His face might be frightening, mercenary even, but his touch was anything but.
Holy
…that was the only way she could describe what she felt when his hands had been travelling along her body.

“I’ll…I’ll,” she stuttered, her face now hot with embarrassment. “I’ll just go to the back and see what I can get you. The water in the kettle might even still be hot. Do you drink tea?”

He watched her without blinking, his gaze tracking her as she cautiously stepped around him.

“
I will eat and drink whatever sustenance you give me.”

She damn near ran from the room then. It was not normal to hear another’s words in your head. And mother of God, it was
so
not an every day occurrence to see what she was seeing reflected on the wall.

Wings
. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her vision. When she opened her eyes, the shadow was gone, but somehow she knew that she had imagined the image of majestic wings. She thought of the raised points between his shoulders and wondered if that’s what they were. Then she wondered if she was going to have to check herself into St. Mike’s and their crisis centre, because she was certain she was going psychotic.

Did she really believe that she was entertaining a six foot five angel in her bookstore? Was she really buying that image of wings or had she read too many paranormal romances lately?

As she worked quickly around her little kitchen at the back of the building, Eve paused with a bread knife in her hand and looked down at the loaf of raisin bread she was about to cut into.

What the fuck was she doing? She was alone in her bookstore in the middle of a nasty ice storm with some stranger, a stranger who had half his face tattooed and looked like he could take her body and pull her limbs out with barely any effort. But he hadn’t. He’d been nothing but kind.

And then there was that chemistry that seemed to flare up between them. There was definitely sexual heat there. But then maybe it was all one sided—hers—and maybe, just maybe she’d finally cracked up. Because normal people didn’t think they saw angels, and if they did, they certainly didn’t think about said angel tossing her on the ground in front of the fireplace and tearing off her jeans.

With a groan, Eve turned back to the bread and cut a thick slice off, trying not to think of the man or her wet panties. Too long, she chided herself as she finished slicing up the loaf, she’d gone too long without sex, and while her vibrator was good, it wasn’t as good as a warm flesh and blood cock.

Slamming the knife down onto the counter, she reached for the electric kettle and poured some water into two mugs. Steam curled in grey tendrils. Thank God she’d used the kettle right before Gemma’s phone call. It was still hot, and lord knew she needed a good cuppa to get her wits unscrambled.

Eve pulled out the few remaining slices of cheese from the bar fridge she used to hold her lunches and piled everything on a heavy wooden tray. She placed a small creamer of milk and a jar of sugar on the tray, not knowing what he took in his tea. Hell, she didn’t even know if angels drank tea.

She paused with the tray in her hands and closed her eyes as a sudden earth shattering thought screamed in her head. Maybe he was here because tonight she was going to die. Maybe he was one of those messenger angels that came to people before the big event. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t speak because he didn’t want to have to tell her she was going to bite the big one tonight.

The plates and mugs rattled together on the tray as her hands shook. Why should she be so afraid of dying? Death was no stranger to her.

But I don’t want to die. Not yet.

Jesus, she needed to get a grip. She was going insane here thinking of such ridiculous things. This guy, despite the weird tats, was
not
an angel. Her fear had made her irrational, had made her see images where there was none. And she wasn’t dying. Not tonight and not tomorrow. She was healthy as an ox. She hadn’t even had so much as a cold so far this winter. No, death was out of the question. And so too, was the idea that this guy was an angel.

He’s just a lost soul
, she told herself as she made her way to the bookstore.
Some guy who’s down on his luck.

When she emerged, she saw that he was seated on the floor, watching her. She tried not to stumble or look scared, but shit…those eyes, what they did to her belly, and the way he looked at her had her thinking of all kinds of improper things.

Christ she was vacillating. First he was here to tell her of her death, and now she was wanting him to mount her and screw her brains out. She was
so
going nuts.

He took the tray from her hands and set it on the floor. Then he reached for her hand and gently tugged her, helping her to sit down. The second their hands touched, something electrical rushed up her arm. Their gazes met, and with the grace of a bull, Eve sunk down to the floor, off cantered by the sensation coursing through her body. She tried to act all nonchalant, like his touch hadn’t been of any significance, but she was certain he saw through her act. How could he not, her hands were shaking like leaves as she tried to take the lid off the sugar container.

He stayed her hand and moved it aside. He put a spoonful of sugar into a mug, then a dollop of milk, stirred the mixture then gave her the mug. Earl Grey tendrils steamed upwards. The smell of citrus and bergamot was comforting and she sank down onto her butt and raised the mug to her lips.

How had he known how she took her tea?

He passed her the plate with the bread, and she shook her head. “No, you go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

Words, quiet and distant whispered through her thoughts. “
I know of your hunger. I can feel it.”

Was it truly his voice or was she really just slipping deeper into a psychosis?

Unfortunately, her stomach chose that exact second to agree with him. Grimacing, she shook her head at him and sipped at her tea, wondering if he knew of the
other
hunger growing inside her—the one for him.

He frowned and she saw his pupils magically change from perfect circles to narrowed slits. His lips changed from supple and lush, to a hard thin line that made them look cruel, especially with the tattoo inked over his mouth.

He buttered a slice of bread and reached for a piece of cheese. With a hard look, he handed them to her. She shook her head again. “It’s not like I’m going to fade away you know, if I miss out on one supper,” she said with a self deprecating laugh. “Some people might think I should avoid a few meals.”

His gaze immediately dropped away from her face only to rake over her body, lingering on her breasts, her belly, her thighs. Eve fought the urge to bring her knees up to her chest and curl her body up tight in a little ball, hiding herself away from those mysterious eyes of his.

Slowly his gaze came up to rest on her face. Only this time when he looked at her, his eyes were more turquoise, and the pupils elliptical slits. The pupil moved, widened, and she felt an unmistakable pulling sensation on her body, as if he were drawing her closer to him with nothing but his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, just kept watching her as he held his hand outstretched to her. There was no denying they were having a silent tug of war. Eve could tell by the set of his mouth, he wasn’t going to give in, and since she didn’t know this guy at all, she decided it was in her best interests not to piss him off.

Eve took the bread and motioned to the rest. “Now it’s your turn.”

He waited until she started eating to reach for the bread and butter a slice. He brought it to his mouth and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully as he watched her.

Conversation, it seemed was not going to happen. She had a million questions she wanted to ask him, but knew that she wouldn’t hear any answers. She could offer him a pen and paper, but how humiliating to him would it be if he were illiterate? So instead, they sat crossed legged on the floor, staring at each other while the fire crackled in the hearth and the wind howled outside.

She probably should be terrified to be alone with him. She should probably be panicking, wondering how she was going to get rid of him. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t afraid. She was intrigued.

Eve looked beyond his wide shoulders to the wall behind him which was bathed with firelight. There were no shadows of wings or any other celestial things, merely the stranger’s broad back and strong shoulders, which were naked, the smooth skin shining with the flickering firelight. She gulped down the last of her tea, trying not to think of those shoulders, or the incredible chest and abs he was sporting.

The silence stretched on, and Eve struggled to look everywhere but the half naked man sitting across from her. It was rather unnerving, all that smooth, taut skin and the quiet. She didn’t quite know what to do, or say. Anything she did manage to say, however, wouldn’t be replied to. That much she knew for certain.

As she scanned every surface of the bookstore for the fifth time, her gaze skimmed over a book that was sitting on the floor, beside her chair. She’d been reading it when Gemma called. Reaching for it, she dragged it across the hardwood floor and opened it to the dog eared page.

She held the cover of the book out to him. “Have you ever read Bronte’s, Jane Eyre?”
He shook his head, and reached for the last bit of bread. “No? It’s a classic piece of literature, and probably one of my favourites. I was reading it when…when…” Eve licked her lips. “Well, before I found you in the alley.”

He motioned to her with a little wave of his hand. “You want me to read it to you?”

Nodding, he sat back and rested his weight on his hands. Stretching out his longs legs, he crossed them at the ankles. The ridges of his abs jumped then tensed, and Eve immediately drew her gaze away. She was in danger here. Not only of checking out the top part of him, but the lower half as well. It seemed the button fly of his jeans was bulging.

“You must be cold, here,” she said, then tossed him the plaid throw that was draped over the arm of the wingback. Thankfully he took the hint and covered himself.

Clearing her throat, she opened the book. “I really had just started it, therefore I’ll start at the beginning.”