Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (11 page)

Chapter 24

TEN DAYS LEFT

Sarid stood in a dimly lit hallway in front of a faded red door, trying to calm his racing heart. He didn’t get this freaked out when facing five Fallen all intent on killing him. He moved the pie from his left hand to his right, wiped his damp palm on his pant leg, did the same with the other side.

This was a mistake. His erratic breathing proved it. If he couldn’t get control, things would turn monstrous.

Pun intended.

The demon whimpered.
Mine
.

Yep. This was wrong.

But he didn’t move away from the dirt-streaked flimsy piece of wood. Was that why she had all those locks? They weren’t cheap models either, especially compared to the other items in her place. The used couch, table, and television. The newest pieces of furniture had been in Keandre’s room. Although he hadn’t seen her room . . .

He froze. It wasn’t nerves now that made his heart skip a beat. Dammit. This wasn’t going to work. Normally just the thought of touching a woman caused a cold sweat to break out over his body. He wasn’t cold now. More like Africa-hot.

“No. I can’t.” He’d learned self-restraint eons ago, had a doctorate in it. Walk away. That’s all he had to do.

Please. Stay.
The demon whispered. It’d been quiet on the way over. Not one vile word uttered.

Sarid had been too preoccupied of where he was going and who he was going to meet to think much of it then. But now, he wondered. Had the demon stayed quiet so he wouldn’t change his mind? And if so, what was its purpose? What did the demon want?

He shuddered at the thought.

Resolve firmly in place, he turned away. The crunch of aluminum reached his ears. He pivoted, set the beautifully made dessert on the floor in front of Asjhone’s door, then strode away.

No! Mine! Go back. Mine. Mine.

“Sarid?”

He froze, closed his eyes as her voice, just that one word spoken from her lips, soothed him. His inhale was deep, the deepest of the day. There was a rustle of clothes, the crinkle of the pie tin.

“Are you . . . are you leaving?”

Rounding, he stared at her. Indecision raged once more, but knew, the moment she spoke he knew, he was powerless to make any other decision. “No. I’m staying.”

He followed her inside.

“This looks good.” She held the pie in her hands. “Did you make it?”

“No.”

She paused as if waiting for him to say something else, then when he didn’t, “Why don’t you go sit at the table? I’ll bring this out with some plates. Do you want coffee?”

“I’ll help.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.”

“I’d like to.” He was rewarded with a smile. His heart skipped a beat.

“Okay, then.” She placed the dessert in his hands. “Bring this to the table, then meet me in the kitchen.”

He proceeded down the small hallway, walked around the couch to the table a few feet behind. After placing the pie in the middle of the table, he entered the kitchen through the doorway off of the dining room.

Asjhone was inside, on tiptoes in front of an open cabinet. His gaze fell to her jean-clad rear end.

Stop it. Not appropriate.

Two steps into the kitchen, he reached above her to grab the cup she was aiming for.

She gasped, whirled, which trapped her between Sarid’s body and the counter. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He took a step back. Then another one.

Her laugh sounded a bit off. “You might as well get the other one.” When he didn’t move, she motioned to the cupboard.

“Of course.” This time he waited until she was out of the way before getting it. “Just two?”

Asjhone nodded. “Keandre will have milk.”

Sarid pulled a glass from the shelf below, then paused. There were several well-faded plastic cups with comic book characters on the very bottom. He replaced the glass and grabbed one of those.

Keandre ran into the kitchen, a basketball in the crook of his arm. “Mr. Sarid! Come see my room. Then we can go outside and—”

“Keandre,” Asjhone said softly. “Mr. Sarid brought a lovely dessert. We’re going to eat first. When we’re finished you may
ask
our guest if he’d like to see your room.”

Keandre’s shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

“Put the ball in your room, then sit at the table, please.”

Keandre made a face before stomping out of the room.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce
.

“No ball in the house,” she called after him. There was one more bounce then silence.

Asjhone glanced at Sarid. She folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the counter. “How are you feeling?

He blinked at her serious tone. “Fine.”

Her lips pursed. “You never completed those tests in the hospital.”

Understanding dawned. “I am fine, Asjhone.”

“Have you had any dizzy spells? Abdominal pain? Swelling in your legs? Headaches?”

He shook his head.

“That rules out internal bleeding, but at the hospital your blood pressure was too high. You’re not taking medication for it, right? How’s your diet?”

“I promise, my blood pressure is normally that high. It’s been that way for a very long time. And my diet . . . is also normal.” For a supernatural warrior.

She frowned. “You’ll tell me if you start to feel off? Or if any of the symptoms I described begin to happen.”

“Immediately.”

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come in for tests.”

He shook his head.

“I guess I’ll have to settle for your word.” Another frown.

“You can trust me,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I start to feel ill.”

“The coffee’s going to take a minute,” she said finally, glancing away, hands lacing and unlacing.

Had he said something wrong? “Shall I take the plates and silverware out?”

“Yes.” Her relief was evident.

For the first time he wished to be more like Gabe or Lucas. Neither had problems communicating with people. Even Cade’s ability to read minds would be helpful right now.

When she moved toward the cupboards near the sink he stepped forward to help, and was suddenly in her personal space. She froze.

He stepped back, spoke softly. “Tell me where they’re at. I can get them.”

“Plates are in there.” She pointed to a cabinet to the right of the sink. “The silverware is in that drawer.”

Sarid grabbed three plates and three forks, paused in the doorway. “Should I get something to cut and serve the pie?”

Her smile was quick and didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll grab it.”

He glanced at her once more then left the room.

Keandre sat at the table, legs kicking. His eyes grew big when Sarid entered. He looked at the doorway where Sarid had just come, then leaned over the table. “I have Super Hero Mashers in my room,” he whispered. Although anyone within four feet could’ve heard him.

Sarid cocked his head. “Is that . . .”

“Only the best toys in the world. Devan only has four of ‘em. But I have six. I’ll show you after dinner.” As soon as Asjhone came into the room, he sat back in his seat.

Sarid smiled at the warning look Asjhone gave her son. When her gaze moved to him, her eyes widened and she stumbled. He rose, plucked the cups from her hand, and set them on the table. Cheeks darkened, she sucked at the warm liquid that had spilled on her hand. Air caught in his throat at the same time his groined tightened. Horrified at the reaction, he sat quickly, kept his eyes on the table.

Asjhone lifted the top to the pie tin and began to slice it. She placed a piece in front of Keandre, touched his hand gently. “Stop kicking.” The table immediately stopped rocking.

Keandre picked up his fork and poked at a piece of crumble on the top. “Did you bring any ice cream?”

Ice cream? Jeeves hadn’t told him to get ice cream. He darted a glance at Asjhone, but she was frowning at Keandre. “No. Sorry.”

His shoulders slumped. “S’okay.”

Asjhone served him, then herself. She took a bite, closed her eyes. A moan of pleasure escaped.

The sound rolled through him, causing different nerve endings to spark. He barely suppressed a groan. If this kept happening, he wouldn’t be able to stay.

“This is great, Sarid. Where did you get it?”

“A . . . friend made it for me.”

She studied his face. A few moments later, her forehead furrowed.

Silence descended. Sarid ate without tasting. He should’ve asked Gabe for conversation pointers. Although ‘hey, babe, want to meet up later’ or ‘how have I walked through life without knowing your name, sexy’ were probably all his
ach
would suggest and those didn’t seem appropriate.

The hospital. Asjhone had been most comfortable inquiring on his health. “How was work today?”

“What do you do?” Asjhone asked at exactly the same time. She laughed. A light, amused sound that demanded a reaction.

Holy Creator, he loved her laugh. He grinned.

She inhaled sharply.

He couldn’t look away. “You first,” he said softly.

Her eyebrows drew down. “Um, what?”

“How was work today?”

“Oh, right.” She made a face. “Work was okay.”

“That face doesn’t match your words.” He was rewarded with another laugh. This time a short self-deprecating, uncomfortable sound. Not his favorite.

She forked a bite, chewed slowly, swallowed. “This is the best apple pie I ever had.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I can get you the recipe if you like.”

“Really? I love baking. Cooking, too.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Did you—” He glanced at Keandre who seemed more interested in mutilating his pie than listening to the adults. Next time he’d have to ask Martha for a different dessert. Next time? Would there be a next time? “Lose a patient?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Thank the Lord. It was a close call with one—construction worker, severed his femoral artery, lost a lot of blood—but he’s going to make it. They got him into surgery in time.”

“I’m glad.”

She took another bite, avoided his gaze.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t wish to.”

Her eyes rose to his, a small smile flashed across her face, before she exhaled, paused for a moment longer, then blurted, “It’s a co-worker . . . I, we don’t get along and it’s . . .” She shook her head.

“Doesn’t make work fun or enjoyable. Lowers your morale.”

“Exactly. Have you gone through the same thing?”

Sarid thought of the demon. “Yes.”

“Your turn, what do you do?”

“I . . . work in security.”

“Security? I thought you were a college professor or maybe worked at a museum.” At his puzzled expression, she continued. “The pastor said you were a historian.”

“Ah. Well, no. I’m not a teacher.”

“Security, huh?” She studied him.

Every spot her gaze touched, his body warmed. Face. Chest. Shoulders. Arms.

“I can see that. For a company?”

“A private company.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s what I’m good at.”

An eyebrow lifted. “That doesn’t really answer the question.”

His lips turned up at the corners before quickly falling. “My job gives me a sense of purpose. The sense that maybe I’m doing good in the world. Sometimes, also, a feeling that I am worthy.”

Her expression softened. She reached across the table, stopped inches from his hand. “Worthy of what?”

He wanted to close that distance. Mesmerized by her stare and closeness, he answered truthfully. “Life.”

She inhaled sharply and her gaze immediately swung to Keandre. Sarid’s did, too. Keandre was watching them, forehead scrunched.

Sarid’s hand tightened on the fork, so hard he felt it bend. He lowered his head and with careful movements, set the utensil on the table. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Then her hand was covering his, squeezing gently. “No. It’s—”

“My dad was a Marine.”

Asjhone startled, then, “Keandre, interrupting is rude.”

“Sorry.” The boy’s gaze didn’t move from Sarid. “He won a medal. He died serving the country. He’s a hero. That’s what the metal says. Isn’t that right, Mom?”

“Keandre!” Asjhone whispered sharply. “Now isn’t the time.”

“Your dad sounded like a brave man,” Sarid said quietly.

Keandre stared at him with suspicion. “Do you like camping?”

“I used to sleep outside with the stars above as my nightlight.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Without a tent?”

“Yes. Hunted for my own food, too. Cooked it over a fire.”

“Wow.” Then he snapped his mouth shut, narrowed his eyes. “What about basketball?”

“I play with my brothers sometimes.”

“I play with Devan. And sometimes Devan’s dad plays, too. Me and Devan team up against him. Last time we won.” He beamed.

“You must be a very good player.”

“I am.” Keandre scratched his chin, then, “I want a dog.”

“Dogs are loyal. I could never have a pet, but if I did I think I’d want a dog.”

“I know, me, too. I mean, I have fish.” He rolled his eyes. “But they don’t do
anything
. A dog can play fetch and run outside and sleep in your bed. Devan has a dog. It’s super cool. When he goes camping with his dad, they take the dog. His name’s Trevor. When I get a dog, I’m going to name him Ben.”