“What happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse and raw as if she’d been screaming.
“We’re not sure.”
She turned her head to meet the blue eyes of a uniformed paramedic. Her gaze dropped to his name tag.
Woodbridge
.
“Have you eaten today?” he asked, his arm strong at her back.
Thinking about her morning, she nodded. “Yogurt and coffee.”
Woodbridge smiled. “It’s two in the afternoon. That’s a long time to go with just yogurt. I think your blood sugar dropped. You became light-headed and passed out.”
Two Gadara security guards pushed the crowd back and Eve stood with the paramedic’s assistance. She wobbled a moment on her heels, was steadied by strong hands, then fingers pushed into her long black hair and gently felt her scalp. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
She hurt everywhere, but she knew what he meant. “No.”
“I don’t feel a bump, but I’d like to take you to the hospital as a precaution.”
“Sure.” She held onto his arm as the room tilted.
As she felt the unmistakable trickle of semen down her inner thighs, blood drained from her face. Her dizziness worsened and her empty stomach heaved.
“Wait. I changed my mind,” she whispered through parched lips, her right hand lifting to touch her left upper arm. A painful welt could be felt through her shirt sleeve. “I just want to go home.”
Eve stared at her computer monitor and felt an odd, vibrating panic well up inside her.
The Mark of Cain
. The mark given by God to Cain as protection from harm while he wandered the Earth as punishment for killing his brother, Abel.
She’d been screwed within an inch of her life by a religious zealot.
That was scary enough. But what was even more frightening was the familiarity of the design. She’d seen it before, caressed it with her fingertips, her lips, thought it made the man who bore it even more of a rebel. Alec Cain’s tattoo had turned her on and spurred a night of sin that haunted her to this day.
Backing her desk chair away from her computer, Eve stood and left her home office. Every step she took toward the kitchen reminded her of the heated encounter in the stairwell. The soreness between her legs made it impossible to forget the feel of her mystery man moving fiercely inside her.
The breath she exhaled was shaky, as was the rest of her.
How could she explain the pleasure she hadn’t wanted to feel? The brand on her arm? The intact condition of her clothing? And the wings . . . Good god, the man had wrapped her in soft, white wings.
“I’m losing my mind.”
After she’d showered, Eve stared at the burn on her arm, a one-inch wide triquetra surrounded by a circlet of three serpents, each eating the tail of the snake before it. Unlike most deep burns, the intricate details of the mark were clearly visible. She might have thought the design was exotic and pretty, if she’d actually wanted it. Now it was hidden beneath a bandage and a thick coating of Silvadene burn cream.
The doorbell rang, and Eve hurried toward the living room. She reached into the console table by the door and pulled out her revolver. With quiet deliberation, she unzipped its padded case. She was a single woman living alone in the heart of a metropolis; it made sense to own a registered handgun. And since Eve believed that something worth doing was worth doing well, she maintained a membership at the local gun club and practiced often.
“Evangeline?”
The voice was familiar and dear; it belonged to her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Basso. Eve breathed a sigh of relief, surprised to find that she’d been frightened of something as simple as a visitor. She put the gun away.
Pulling open the door, she found her neighbor waiting for her with a concerned frown and a Tupperware bowl in her hands. Mrs. Basso wore her customary Dockers, dress shirt, and sweater vest. Today her ensemble was comprised of various shades of blue. Pearls decorated her ears, throat, and wrist. She’d been a raving beauty in her youth. Now she had a stately elegance that was marred only by the slight stooping of her shoulders.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” Eve lied.
Mrs. Basso owned Basso’s Ristorante and Grille, a popular Italian restaurant. She and her husband had once operated the establishment together, but with Mr. Basso’s passing a year ago she’d begun leasing the business out. This afforded her a steady, reliable income without much work on her part. Because she was alone, Eve checked on her a couple of times a week. When she made a run to the store, she always checked to see if Mrs. Basso needed anything. In return, her neighbor doted on her like a favored grandchild.
“You should get your thyroid checked,” Mrs. Basso said.
Eve smiled. “Okay.”
Mrs. Basso extended the bowl to her. “I made you some homemade chicken noodle soup. Lots of garlic and a dash of basil. You should eat all of it.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Eve protested.
“And you don’t have to spend your time looking after me,” she countered. “But we do it anyway.”
Eve accepted the offering. “Come in and eat it with me.”
Mrs. Basso shook her head. “Thank you, but a
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
rerun comes on in a few minutes and it’s one of my favorites.”
“Which season?”
“Six.”
“Ahh, the one where Buffy and Spike finally get together.”
Mrs. Basso blushed. “That Spike is a hunk. Eat all the soup, you hear?”
Eve laughed. “Of course. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do after all you do for me.” With a wave, she moved back down the hall and paused. “There’s a new Hugh Jackman movie out next week. He’s a hunk, too.”
“It’s a date.”
Mrs. Basso winked and stepped out of view.
Eve stared down the hall for a long time, clinging to the feeling of normalcy. The minute she closed her door it was gone, leaving her with a throbbing in her arm and between her legs, and a desperate need to know what in hell happened to her.
Fetching a spoon from the kitchen, Eve sat on her cream-colored sofa and turned on the television. She watched
Buffy
. A boyfriend had turned her on to the television series in the third season. It was the only thing she remembered about that particular relationship. And that was more than she could say about many of the romances she’d had since Alec Cain. But if she was honest, she hadn’t really had a relationship with him either. She’d just been screwed, in more ways than one.
As Buffy and Spike beat the crap out of each other, Eve felt her shoulders and arms tensing to the point of pain. Wild, edgy, aggressive energy pulsed through her veins. Sweat dotted her upper lip and her vision grew fuzzy.
The doorbell rang again and she lurched to her feet. “I ate every drop,” she yelled as she moved toward the door. She smiled at the thought of Mrs. Basso following up on her as if she were an errant child.
“Angel.”
Eve paused, her steps faltering.
“Open the door.”
She retrieved her gun, her hand slipping into the protective case to grip the hilt. Padding quietly to the door, she lifted on tiptoe to peer out the peephole.
For a moment she stood unblinking, unable to believe what—
whom
—she was looking at.
“Come on, angel,” he purred, using the pet name only he’d ever used. Evangeline. Eve.
Angel
. “Let me in.”
Even through the distorted glass, Alec Cain was breathtaking. Her damned mouth was watering.
Unfortunately, he also closely resembled the man who’d attacked her earlier. Her warning bells were clanging hell for leather. She hadn’t listened to them earlier and look where that had gotten her.
Eve backed up silently.
“Angel,” he said, softer this time, his voice so clear she knew he had to be resting his forehead against the door. “I know what happened today. You shouldn’t be alone. Let me in.”
Alec’s voice
. Hearing it in person, after all these years, stabbed her like a knife. Dark and rich like chocolate, it was decadent. Sinful. It had urged her to relinquish her virginity, an act that was painful for most women, but had been the pinnacle of pleasure for her. She’d fallen head over heels that night. Would have done anything for him, gone anywhere he wanted.
Anything,
if it meant they would be together.
Stupid. Naïve.
Shaking her head, Eve continued to retreat, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her arms were straight and steady, pointing the muzzle directly at the door. She wasn’t surprised that he knew what happened to her today. The fact was, Alec always knew. From the beginning, he’d had an uncanny way of knowing what she was thinking and feeling. She was pretty sure that’s why he was so damn good in the sack. Before she knew what she wanted, he was giving it to her.
“Eve, listen to me. You can’t be alone now. It’s not safe.”
You’re not safe,
she thought.
“I’m the closest thing you’ve got,” he retorted, as if he’d read her mind.
No. Go away
. She couldn’t voice the words. Her throat was too tight.
“I won’t, angel. I’m coming in. Keep backing away.”
“I-I’ll s-shoot you.”
Eve could sense him pause.
Then her door burst open in an explosion of splintered wood and bent locks. Three dead bolts. The kind bullets couldn’t break.
Her entire body shook violently, but she held the gun level.
He entered her condominium with casual ease, his steel-toed boots thudding heavily on her polished wood floors.
Alec Cain was tall, dark perfection. He wore black from head to toe, from his fitted T-shirt to his leather pants. His inky locks were a bit too long, caressing his nape and falling over his brow. His full lips were drawn tight with strain. His brown eyes were burning. That intensity had done crazy things to her equilibrium when she was a wild child of eighteen. It did crazy things to her now.
The past decade hadn’t aged him at all.
“I told you to go away, Alec.”
He tossed his leather jacket and helmet onto her sofa as he passed it. “Are you really going to shoot me if I don’t?”
“If you don’t turn around and get out of my house, yeah.”
Alec could stand stock still and be merely gorgeous, but when he moved, all bets were off. There was a sleek, predatory grace to him that was riveting. A woman couldn’t help but wonder if he would be as smooth in bed. Eve knew he was. Sex was an art form to Alec, and he was a master.
“I’m not leaving, angel.”
Eve’s nostrils flared. Then she squeezed the trigger.
The click of the hammer falling was deafening in the quiet room. Had there been a round in the chamber, Alec would be sporting a steaming hole in his chest.
“You can’t hurt me,” he said softly.
“Don’t underestimate me. I always keep the gun stored on an empty chamber. You won’t be so healthy when I squeeze off a live round.” She gestured toward the door with a hard jerk of her chin. “Get out, while you’re still in one piece.”
Her home no longer felt like her own. Alec dominated her living room. The darkness of his clothes was completely at odds with the soft champagne colors she’d decorated with. In an odd twist of fate, she and he matched. She wore a black cotton tank top and matching shorts, her comfort clothes.
“I can’t.” He turned his back to her and pushed the door closed, the protruding dead bolts fitting into the gaping holes in the decimated jamb. He hooked the slender chain into place (the one piece of security she hadn’t bothered with before), then grabbed the wooden chair next to the console table and wedged it under the haphazardly hanging knob.
Locking them in together.
He faced her. “That mark on your arm is going to start messing with you.”
The damn thing was already messing with her. It throbbed and burned something fierce. “What is it?”
“Both a blessing and a curse.” Alec stepped closer, completely unconcerned with the danger her gun presented. “It’s a punishment, a form of penance.”
“What-the-fuck-ever. I’m agnostic and you’re insane. Take your lunatic bullshit and get out of my house.”
“You’re going to get sick and need someone here.”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t going to be you. I’ll call a friend. Someone
reliable
.”
Outwardly, the dig didn’t appear to affect him, but she sensed it had struck home.
“A friend isn’t going to be able to help you, Eve. Especially a woman. Not unless you started swinging both ways, which I really doubt. You like men too much.”
“No, I only like
parts
of men.”
“You liked
all
of me.”
“I was a stupid kid.” She snorted. “But I learned my lesson the first time.” His challenging smile made her breath catch and she stilled, absorbing what he’d said. “Wait. Are you talking about
sex
?”
Eve’s eyes widened and her gaze dropped to his groin. The man was rocked, cocked, and ready to go. Every inch of that hard, muscled frame was edgy with tension and arousal. Sudden fury gave her strength, and her shaking stopped.