Thankfully, the only people who would be able to see them were the ones in the house immediately to their left. The door blocked the other side well, but it would be a small miracle if the police weren’t called.
Amber cleaned his wounds the best she could, her hands shaking. Whether from the chill in the air or the fact that her ex had been ripped to shreds by a demon, she couldn’t say. She finished by drying Quentin off, then reached up and cleaned the gash in his cheek, as well. The bleeding had stopped, even from the deepest cuts. She’d never felt the demon’s claws. It didn’t escape her how lucky she was.
He watched her from beneath thick lashes, his blue eyes trained on her face as she sprayed the gashes with the antiseptic. He sucked in another sharp breath. For the one on his face, she took a piece of gauze, sprayed it, and blotted his cheek.
He shouldn’t even be standing, and yet he stood there as if he’d barely had his bell rung. Whatever—whoever—was inside him was powerful. At the moment, she decided to be grateful for that fact. But still, watching him in pain, in such agony, was almost more than she could bear. A lump formed in her throat as she thought about it, and she fought the quivering of her lower lip.
“This is so bad, Quentin.”
“I’ve had worse,” he said, his voice barely audible.
That was when she saw the thin scars across his back, chest, and arms. Were those once like these had been? Did he really heal so well that his scars were almost imperceptible? She motioned for him to hold up his arms. He lifted them, and she began wrapping the bandage around him, tight enough to hold him together but not so tight that it cut off his circulation. He needed about a thousand stitches, but this would have to do for now.
“Do you have extra pants?” she asked when she finished wrapping the wounds. The blood had soaked the front of his jeans.
He gazed down at her for a long moment and then, without fanfare or ceremony, started undoing his belt buckle. He kept his hawklike gaze on her as he unfastened the button and split the fly open.
Too late, she remembered that he wore no underwear. She whirled around, but not before she got a rather good look at the exquisite package he carried between his legs. His body wasn’t the only thing that’d grown up.
Chapter Six
On the bright side, I’m not addicted to cocaine.
—T-shirt
Quentin almost laughed when Amber turned away from him. Her cheeks turned pink instantly as he kicked off his boots and slid his jeans over his hips. Normally, he wore boxers, but the trip had taken longer than expected. He had yet to hit up a laundromat. He did wonder if he shouldn’t have checked the windows around them before stripping. Then again, if anyone was going to call the cops, they would have already. The houses closest to them either weren’t occupied at the moment, or the occupants were out and about.
Still, it was getting pretty late in the morning. Most of the businesses were open, and several tourists walked through town.
Quentin found another pair of jeans and hopped into them, regretting the hop instantly as his stomach muscles contracted. Pain shot through him as if a nine-millimeter had sprayed him.
“Smart,” Rune said.
“Shut up.” He let his gaze travel over Amber’s elfin profile. Down her shapely neck. Over her delicate shoulders. Her long hair cascaded, luxurious like silk, to the top of her incredible ass.
He’d dreamed of her every night for years, and here she was, right in front of him. But he was the last thing she needed. He’d almost killed her once today already. She should get as far away from him as humanly possible, no matter how badly he wanted to bury his face in her hair and his cock in her—
“We’re going to find a better apartment. One without that constant whining sound.”
Quentin finished buttoning the jeans and pulled on a long-sleeved T-shirt as another virtual spray of nine-millimeter bullets hit him, then sent Rune a mental, “Fuck you.”
“She is a traveler.”
“And?”
“She is way out of your league.”
Quentin scoffed as he tugged the shirt into place. “She was out of my league long before she became a traveler.” He reached over and tapped Amber on the shoulder. When she turned around, he presented himself to her. “Better?”
“Much, but you still need a hospital.” Her cheeks were still pink.
“I need food.” He looked at the coffee place where he and Rune had eaten breakfast, but he wanted something meatier.
“I’m parked at the Mine Shaft Tavern.” Amber looked at her watch. “Great food, and they should be opening in a couple of minutes.”
“Sounds good.” He made sure to sign as much as possible. She didn’t need any more proof of what a sideshow attraction he’d become. He may be able to talk fairly well now, but he still stumbled on words. His voice was still wrong. He didn’t sound like other people, and he sometimes got the odd looks to prove it.
She looked down at her blood-soaked tank top. “I can’t go in there like this.” She studied the road. “It’s only a couple of minutes’ walk. I have extra clothes in the trunk, but my bag is still inside the house.” She turned back to him. “The same bag that has my keys and my phone in it.”
“We’ll call a service to get you a new set. I’ll have your bag sent to you when this is over.”
“I’m not leaving, Quentin.” She stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. Warmth radiated out of her fingertips and over him. “I want answers. And, quite frankly, I don’t give a shit if you want to give them to me.”
He bit down, frustration taking hold. He’d never been this close to capturing this demon, and he had it trapped. For now.
“That’s not it,” Rune said. “You don’t want her to know about us. About what we are.”
Quentin ignored him. “You can’t go in there looking like the final girl from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” He noticed the shivering. “And you’re cold.”
“I’m fine. I just—”
He turned his back and rummaged through his duffle bag again. He found an old T-shirt that had been too small for years, yet he took it everywhere. She’d bought it for him when they were in high school. Dark gray with a white skull as if it had been spray-painted on. He’d loved it and wore it almost every day for a year while at Gallaudet. He’d missed her so bad. And then… His world changed entirely.
“We changed your world,” Rune said. “You gave her up for us.”
“Like I had a fucking choice.”
“Need I remind you, human, you did.”
Quentin drew in a deep breath and held out the shirt to her. “No, Rune, I didn’t.”
Rune forewent a smartass comeback—for once—and said simply, “We are grateful.”
She shook out the shirt and drew in a soft breath when she recognized it. She pretended not to and started to pull it over her head.
“No,” he said, gesturing toward her tank top. “That needs to come off.”
Her beautiful eyes rounded, and she glanced around. “I can’t strip here. Someone will see me.”
Instead of remove clothes, she did the sign for stripper, and Quentin tried not to laugh. “I just got naked. Didn’t bother me.”