Eternally Bound: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (43 page)

But not before he caught a glimpse of the angel standing just behind the garlicky old man. Now he remembered, sort of. Lightning. His plane had gone down in the jungle after the engine under the left wing caught fire. The image was blurry but he knew an angel when he saw one. Was she here to take him to heaven? He was sure he’d done at least a few good deeds to warrant making it through the pearly gates.

This angel had milk chocolate skin and a set of piercing, almond-shaped, light gray eyes that made his pulse skip a beat or two. And her hair, a shoulder-length mane any woman would kill for. Thick and curly, it hit her shoulders at the perfect length and made his fingers want to reach out and touch the silky black-as-sin tresses before he floated away to the hereafter. The image of his angel wavered.

“Wait! Come back, beautiful! Can’t we spend some time? Maybe talk awhile before I leave this plane?” Could she hear his urgent whispers? Of course she could, all supernatural beings had great hearing. So why didn’t she respond? Instead, she just looked at him with a strange mix of pity and irritation. What the hell kind of angel was she anyway? She was supposed to be smiling at him, preparing him for his journey. Well, she obviously wasn’t interested in doing her job. Maybe if he lodged a formal complaint with God, she’d get fired.

The garlic master was back. His stomach lurched.
Damn it, old man
, he shouted in his head, and immediately regretted the ferocity of his thoughts. Now his neck, shoulders and ribs joined his head, pounding relentlessly against his skin from the inside out.

The older man stuck him on the top of his hand with something and the beauty faded away fast, but not before he got a good glimpse of the swell of the angel’s breasts and the curve of her shoulders. Since when did cherubs wear tank tops? It sure looked good on her. And how could be he in so much pain and still manage to achieve a hard-on?
Damn, she’s sexy
, he smirked at himself as his eyelids fluttered closed. Hell, even in his state of impending death, he was thinking with his cock instead of his brain.

I’m no better than the half-assed angel
, he thought as sleep claimed him.

* * * * *

Reya followed Dr. Matons out of her bedroom and closed the door with a quiet snap. After brewing herself a cup of tea, she joined her old friend out on the screened veranda and plopped down in her favorite plastic patio chair. The smell of the passing storm was heavy in the air, along with the scent of charred wood and jet fuel. In spite of the evening’s hair-raising events, she was calm and determined.

Vanilla and clove scented smoke floated up from Dr. Matons’ pipe. She should have never asked her Aunt Sulu to send the stuff. Now the old curmudgeon would never again settle for the local tobaccos.

“Well, our little patient was lucky tonight,” Dr. Matons drawled around his pipe.

“
Little
patient?” Reya queried with amusement. She was sure she’d never met a man so long his feet practically hung off the edge of her bed, or a more muscularly perfect specimen as the one lying in her bedroom. She and Dr. Matons had spent the past several hours removing glass and plastic from various patches of skin. They’d stitched the deeper cuts across his back, wrapped his chest tightly and cleaned off all the blood. She’d seen every inch of his magnificent body and there was nothing, and she meant
nothing
, little about him.

“It’s a good thing you were out on patrol when his plane went down. I don’t know if he would have made it otherwise,” the doctor said, blowing out a ring of thick smoke. “He is certainly handsome, as men go.” His eyes crinkled at the sides as he watched her. The old matchmaker. Always looking for someone to pair her up with. Even an unconscious man in serious condition.

When she didn’t answer but stared out into the night, he continued. “I gave him a strong painkiller, but he’s not out of the woods. Do you mind if I sleep here so I can check on him during the night?”

“No, I don’t mind at all. Why don’t you take the office? The futon in there is pretty comfy. I’ll take the couch.” Her eyes hadn’t strayed from the tangle of ferns and vines leading into the dark canopy of jungle no more than a hundred yards from her back stairs.

“You’re not planning on going back out in this deluge, are you?”

“The storm is almost past. I’ll be fine. Besides, something weird happened out there tonight. If you’re still awake when I get back, I’ll tell you about it.”

The moon, pale and obscured by dark thunderheads, was the only light shining onto her second-story veranda. Reya unlaced her boots, toed them off and set them beside the screen door that led down the back stairs. Dr. Matons continued to puff on his pipe while she peeled off her tank top and blood-spattered pants, tossed them in a pile and loosely tied a small bundle around her neck.

“Be careful, my dear. Wake me when you return,” Dr. Matons called quietly. Extinguishing his pipe, he rose and slipped through the sliding glass door and into her living room.

Reya watched his retreating back until the subtle snap of the office door told her she was alone. Shirt, pants and shoes in a neat pile on the floor, she dropped to her knees. Muscles rippled and bunched as raw power surged through her limbs—heady, thunderous power as her body shortened then stretched. Her tall frame shuddered as thick fur burst through her pores, replacing smooth skin. The cooling breeze ruffled the sleek fur on the tufts of the ears of a black jaguar as she stalked down the stairs and loped into the surrounding jungle.