Tempting The Dark. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
more ruly—down over his wide and solid chest. That was a lot of muscle, and all of it was tight and undulated in curves and hard planes and... She had seen demons who looked like they pumped iron in a gym. They’d had muscles of blackest flesh or coldest steel. Some breeds’ physical makeup had been so terrible as to reveal bone and organs. But this man? Those muscles did not wrap about a rib cage that lacked within it a beating heart. Savin Thorne was a hot drink of the clearest, cleanest water she’d ever desired.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
“Sleep?” Adjusting her gaze from the tantalizing ridges of muscle on his abdomen, Jett hugged the pillow tighter to her chest, sensing a weird increase in her breaths. Which, when checked, she realized was want. Need. Hunger for the man’s muscles pressed up against her body. “Uh, yes. Surprisingly. I think that’s the best sleep I’ve had in ages.”
“That bed is comfortable. I, uh...”
He glanced to the cabinet on the other side of the bed that stood up against the wall.
“Oh, you need to get dressed. I should let you have some privacy.” She dropped the pillow and walked to the edge of the bed on her knees, but Savin beat her to the cabinet, and if she climbed off the bed, she’d step right up against him.
“It’s cool,” he said. “I’ll just grab some things and change out in the living room. I’m sure you want to use the bathroom. You can use whatever you like. I might even have an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers. Toothpaste is in the cabinet.”
Toothpaste. That sounded so decadent.
“How about we take a walk down the street and find something to eat?” he offered as he claimed some clothes. “Then we can talk.”
“Talk?” Not about Daemonia. She wasn’t ready for that. And she wasn’t sure she would ever be. “Sure. It’ll be great to get out in the fresh air. It’s not something I’ve had...” Uh... No. She wasn’t going to detail what was now her past. “Thank you, Savin. It was weird luck that you were out there in the country to help me.”
“It was. But also not a coincidence.” He took her in with a shadowed glance. His eyes were deep blue and his thick brows were low above them, granting him a dangerous mien. A force to, literally, be reckoned with. “That place where the rift to Daemonia opened last night is exactly where it happened.”
Jett nodded. It. Yes, it had been. That day long ago when her life had been irrevocably altered.
“Sorry.” He winced. “You probably don’t want to talk much about all that. We’ll take it slow. I’m hungry. Soon as you’re ready, we’ll head out. Feel free to raid my clothes. You might make a dress out of one of my shirts, you’re so tiny.”
He strode around the corner and Jett slid off the bed to look through the clothes cabinet. She’d found a T-shirt to sleep in last night and it hung to her thighs. Her hand glided over a pair of gray sweatpants with a string tie at the waist. It should serve until she could buy clothes that fit her.
Might Savin lend her some money to get her life established? She would need it because she had no means to a job or even knowledge of how to acquire the basics such as food, clothing and shelter.
Had she done the right thing?
The innate part of her that had seen to her survival in the Place of All Demons rose within her, reminding her she was not the same girl who had been taken out of this realm so long ago. She was stronger, and more vital. And she would have whatever she wanted, using her wiles if necessary. Let no man, or demon, stop her.
“I will,” Jett whispered decisively. “And he will help me.”
In the bathroom, she found a new toothbrush and Savin’s comb. Her hair was a tangle and hung to her waist. Also, it was no longer the color it had been while she was in Daemonia. She wasn’t sure if she missed that or not. She’d often worn it braided and back, but she no longer had consorts to aid or help her dress. Such a loss.
A moment to focus inward and ensure that all would be well—and secure—served her temporary solace. Maybe? She was trapped within something she was not in this realm, just as she had been in the other realm. And she was already questioning her decision to escape. She’d left behind things. Privileges. A certain status.
Jett shook her head. She had to stay on focus. She had wanted this. Had striven for escape. And the best person to help her achieve normality had been right there, waiting for her. Surely, that was a positive sign. For now, she was safe around Savin. Yet she could not overlook that the wards protecting his home pulled at her when she got too near the front door. She needed to be outside, free from any repulsive magic.
Pulling up the sweatpants, she tugged the ties and bunched up the excess. It still didn’t fit smartly, so she’d be forced to hold them up while she walked. But the invite to get outside could not be refused. She craved fresh air and would swallow it in gulps.
Out in the living room and sitting on the couch, Savin strummed an acoustic guitar. When Jett entered, he stopped and stood, setting the instrument aside. “You found clothes. That’s good.”
She clutched the front of the pants.
“Or not.” He winced. “There’s a women’s shop two buildings down from here. You want to stop in before we eat?”
“I’d appreciate that, but I have no means to pay.”
“Jett, don’t worry about it. You have nothing. I’ve got your back.”
She nodded, again finding it hard to speak when he had already been so generous. At the same time, a part of her, the part that had shone and assimilated while in Daemonia, smiled and straightened her spine. Of course he should serve her and make her comfortable. She deserved it.
“Let’s go out, then,” she said. “I’m eager to breathe in Paris.”
In the women’s clothing shop, Jett found some black jeans with sequins dashing down the sides of each leg seam, and a blousy red top. Black boots with high heels had given her a giddy thrill. Savin had suggested she grab a few more things, and while she had been initially reluctant, she quickly warmed to the shopping gene that Savin knew all women possessed. He didn’t mind bulking up his credit card bill. Seeing Jett’s satisfied smile had been well worth it.
Of course, the smile had been too brief. It was almost as if she’d caught herself in a moment of joy, then quickly slammed the door shut on the freedom. It would require time for her to rise above her experience, surely.
Now she sat across a metal table from him on the sidewalk before his favorite sixth-arrondissement café. Four bags were corralled around her. She looked over the menu while he had ordered black coffee and three pains au chocolat. That was the first course for him. He would go in for the potatoes next.
“I’m not sure what I want,” she said, setting down the menu. “I feel hungry. Or do I?”
“You can have one of my pastries and then order something later if you’re still hungry.” He noticed her scowl. “It’s not a test, Jett. You can try as many things as you like.”
She managed a roundabout shrug-nod. He assumed it was overwhelming for her to be someplace so simple as a sidewalk café after coming from—Well, he wasn’t going to ask about it. He’d wait until she brought it up. It seemed the kindest thing to do.
“Paris smells like I remember. Old, yet hopeful,” she said after the waitress dropped off Savin’s order. She accepted a plate with one of his pastries on it and picked up a fork. “And the fountain down the street sounds so happy.”
He’d forgotten about that fountain. A guy could hear it if he really listened. He’d lived here so long it had faded into the background. Just another city sound. What his senses were most focused to? Demons.