Secret Worlds (163 page)

“You’re chewing your bottom lip like you do when you’re trying not to frown.”

I stared at him in shock. “How could you have possibly noticed that about me? We’ve known each other for like what? Three days?”

Michael merely shrugged. I shook my head. “Go get me food.”

After a moment, I added the word “please” and Michael cracked a smile. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Always a charmer, aren’t we?” With that, he loped off to the kitchen. I watched him go with a strange sort of bemusement. I couldn’t understand how Michael rolled with the punches the way he did. My personality was naturally cranky, but for some reason he didn’t seem to mind. I wondered if the patience came from being an angel.

Somewhere during my musing, I caught a whiff of how I smelled and nearly gagged. My body had been in such a delicate condition that I hadn’t been able to shower since the incident. Unacceptable. I tossed the covers back and set my feet on the floor, firmly resolved to fix this problem. My legs burned with pain after I stood up and several ligaments cracked, but it wasn’t too bad altogether. Huzzah.

I shuffled my way over to the dresser in front of the bed and gathered some undergarments from the corner of the drawer. Really needed to wash my clothes soon. Maybe I’d guilt my new bodyguard into doing them for me. I managed to reach the bathroom without toppling over or anything when Michael called from the kitchen.

“What kind of food are you in the mood for?”

“The edible kind.” I yelled back. “It’ll have to wait until after my shower.”

A pause. Hurried footsteps. Michael appeared in the doorway with a frown. “Wait, what?”

I pointed at the tub. “Me. Shower. Now.”

“Jordan, you really shouldn’t be moving around that much. Your stitches might tear. Can’t this wait a little longer?”

“The day I can’t wash my own ass is the day I don’t need to continue living,” I said, flipping on the faucet. Water rushed into the tub—a relaxing sound in itself.

He sighed. “You have a point. But don’t take a shower. You shouldn’t be standing for any long period of time. Take a bath and don’t let the water soak into your wound. I’ll be out here if you need any help.”

I paused. There was just no way I could let that one go. “Would you
like
to help me bathe, Michael?”

To my amusement, he cleared his throat and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Not what I meant.”

“Honestly, it would make the entire experience more bearable.” I could feel the grin taking over my lips and didn’t fight it. Hell, it was the most fun I’d had in a while. Apparently, the new Michael could get flustered. Interesting.

He shot me an accusing look. “You really are shameless, aren’t you?”

Was it my imagination or was he blushing? Ha! “It’s all part of my charm.”

Michael shook his head and shut the door without replying. I allowed myself one small giggle before adjusting the water’s temperature and shedding both my clothes and the bandages.

As the tub filled, I took a good look at myself in the mirror. There was really only one word for what I saw: yikes. The stitches were still visible on my chest, where ugly mounds of light brown flesh had gathered around the wound. Whenever they came out, there would definitely be a large, jagged scar in its place. A ring of bruises marred my neck and a sizeable one peeked out from beneath my hair where my head had hit the wall in the alley. I felt another surge of anger towards Belial. It was one thing to hurt me emotionally, but the bastard had physically marked me. Gabriel said there was no known way to destroy a demon soul.

I was sure as hell going to find one someday.

With my hair down I looked a lot like my mother. She had been from Madrid while my father was black, origin unknown. That was just about the only thing I knew about my father. He’d left before I was born. As for my mother, she was an entirely different story. One I didn’t like to revisit often.

After the tub filled, I took my sweet time lowering myself into the smooth porcelain and soothing hot water. My injuries stung, but it was heavenly after I settled in. I lay my head back and just went still. Got to enjoy the little things in life.

My thoughts started to drift as I lay there, making sure not to let the water hit my chest wound. How long would Michael stay with me? Is this how cohabitation worked—a constant exchange of banter between two people? Or was our situation unique? Hell if I knew. The last relationship I’d been in ended in tatters. We’d never even made it to the moving-in stage. How did people do this on a regular or even permanent basis? Then again, who was I to complain? I had an archangel at my beck and call. You’d think I would be more grateful. Then again, attention from anyone, especially men, made me defensive. Stupid, but true.

I drained the tub and climbed out, drying off slowly on account of my stiff limbs. The underwear took an annoying amount of time to put on, but I managed. Finally, I wrapped myself in a thick navy robe and called for Michael.

Once more, I sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the opposite wall as Michael sat in a chair he’d gotten from the kitchen and redressed my chest. I kept the robe bunched around my waist, hiding everything at navel level and lower. He hadn’t been this close to me before we’d known each other so I started noticing little things about him, like how he smelled. His scent was a mix of Old Spice deodorant and some sort of sweet aftershave. Unlike Gabriel or Raphael, his fingertips were rough from playing the guitar. I’d never noticed how large his hands were up until now.

“Something on your mind?”

I glanced at Michael. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s been five minutes and you haven’t insulted me yet. I’m getting worried.” His green eyes sparkled with amusement.

I scowled. “It’s not all about you, y’know.”

He chuckled. “My fault. Still, what’s on your mind?”

I searched for something to say because it wouldn’t be appropriate to admit I’d been thinking about the way he smelled or how big his hands were. “Not much. I was just thinking how long it’s been since I’ve had someone around all the time.”

“No boyfriend?”

I winced. “Once. Terrell Molding. It…ended badly.”

“What happened?”

“We had been dating before the incident with Mr. N. As you can imagine, things got rough afterward. I knew I couldn’t tell him what I’d seen because he wouldn’t believe me, so I pushed him away.”

“That must have been hard for you.” His voice was soft with sympathy rather than pity. A small part of me felt relieved by that.

I shrugged and then winced because it still hurt. Gotta stop doing that. “I got over it. It wouldn’t have worked out in the long run anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He wanted the American dream: a beach house in Hawaii, a white picket fence, two kids, and a dog. Despite everything around him, he still held on to the illusion that people are good and life is sweet. We were from two completely different worlds.”

Michael was silent. “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s still the same world, but you two just saw it differently.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Now that you’ve gotten your life back, will you try to make things work with him?”

That caught me off-guard. “W-Well, I didn’t really consider it, no.”

“Why not?”

“Who are you? Dr. Phil?”

“Jordan, for once, just answer the question.”

“I…I never felt like I was good enough for him, alright? He was on track to become a pediatrician and he came from a large, successful family. I couldn’t stand the thought of going home to his family in California with my background.”

“Background?”

“I already told you what happened to my parents. I didn’t even go to college. His whole family comes from a prestigious line of African descent and I’m mixed. They weren’t very happy with that.”

“Why should they matter at all if you loved the guy?”

“No one ever said I loved him.” My voice was small and defensive when I spoke. I hated that. He didn’t speak at first—just finished the last bit of my bandages and tugged my robe closed.

I shook my head. “I guess that’s a pretty stupid reason for not trying, hm?”

“Want to know what I really think?”

“Knock yourself out,” I said, avoiding eye contact because it made me feel too vulnerable.

Michael leaned forward in his chair and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear to catch my attention. “I think you’re way harder on yourself than other people are, and you shouldn’t be because there’s nothing wrong with you that’s beyond saving.”

Before I could reply, he stood up and offered me his hand. “Now come on. Your food’s getting cold.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Did I stutter?”

I had been expecting a right cross. Instead, I got kicked in the stomach.

My body crumpled like a paper doll. I couldn’t help clutching the injured spot with both hands, as if that would dull the pain. It wormed up from my abs to my chest, blossoming outward to my limbs. Still, I couldn’t stay in the same place or he’d hit me again, so I threw myself to the side as he tried to trip me. I came up on one knee and brought both forearms up as his right leg came down, heel first. I blocked the blow and punched him in the back of the knee.

Jared hissed and danced two steps backwards, hopping on one foot. “Damn. Good hit, Jor.”

“Thanks,” I rasped, rubbing my midsection. I’d be bruised later. Michael wouldn’t like that. Then again, that was why I hadn’t told him about this little session of mine.

Jared offered a hand and I took it, grateful as he pulled me to my feet. After a moment, I could breathe normally and returned to a defensive stance.

A couple people had stopped to watch us. I shot them hard looks, which made them wander off and pretend like they hadn’t been staring. I understood them, though. It wasn’t every day that a big black guy and an average height mixed girl with a bandaged chest and scars trained in a gym. Though I suspected they wanted to make sure he wasn’t wiping the floor with me, which he was.

Jared was a fourth-degree black belt. I hadn’t even had official martial arts training. Everything I knew about self-defense, I learned from him shortly after I moved to Albany two years ago. We met at the gym, and since he knew I couldn’t afford lessons, he took pity and taught me whenever he had free time.

His brown eyes wandered down my upper body and he paused, giving me a concerned look. “Need a break yet?”

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “Nah. Maybe in about ten minutes or so. What’s the verdict so far?”

He relaxed his 6’3’’ frame and I knew I was in the clear for at least another five minutes. Jared wasn’t the type to attack without warning. “Your reaction time has taken the biggest hit, if you ask me. The advantage you usually have over me is speed, and that’s nowhere present from what I’ve seen. For instance, when you raise your arms to block, it’s not very solid. I could break through it if I wanted to.”

I winced. “Got it. Anything I can do to fix that?”

He shot me a disapproving look. “Oh, I don’t know, bed rest like your damn doctor recommended?”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

Jared sighed. “Fine. If you swear up and down that you want to improve…yoga.”

“Yoga.”

“Yes, yoga.”

“Can you really see me in a pair of tights bending myself into a pretzel?”

He rubbed his goatee, adopting an amused look. “Y’know, it’s not a bad mental image.”

I flipped him off and he laughed. “I mean it, though. It’ll get you limber without stressing your body out too much.”

“I’ll take it into consideration. Now let’s go again.”

He sank into a defensive position. I launched myself at him, aiming kicks at him since my upper body strength had taken most of the damage from Belial’s attack. Jared blocked my blows with expert ease, hopping out of the way when I tried to trip him. I aimed a chop at his throat when I found an opening, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm, throwing me over his shoulder. I hit the mat with a solid thud, groaning as pain flooded up my spine in a startling rush.

Jared stood over me with a neutral expression. “You okay, tough guy?”

I waved a hand to dismiss the comment. “Sure. I’ll let you know when my dislocated vertebrae pops back into place.”

He chuckled, but then the grin disappeared when he spotted something over my head. “Uh, were you expecting company?”

“No. Why?”

Jared pointed. “Because there’s a tall guy heading this way who looks like he wants a piece.”

I tilted my head up to see Michael storming down the aisle between the mats with a death glare aimed in my direction. Great. Busted.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded when he was within earshot.

I sat up, rolling my shoulder to make sure it hadn’t popped out of alignment when Jared tossed me. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You told me you were going grocery shopping.”

I glanced around. “Hm. Must’ve gotten lost on the way there.”

Michael closed his eyes and I swore, it seemed like he was counting to ten. Instead of hurtling another pissed-off comment in my direction, he turned to Jared and stuck out a hand. “Sorry. I’m Michael. I’m attempting to be her at-home assistant.”

Jared shook his hand and then glared at me. “You failed to mention that, Jor.”

I stood, bending down to touch my toes. In top form, I could press the pads of my fingers to the floor, but in my current state, I could barely brush the ground. Shit.

“You didn’t ask.”

Jared sighed. “Yep. Under the bandages, you’re still the same hardheaded moron as always. Guess I’d better get out of here.”

He started to leave, but then pointed at me with a stern look. “Don’t call me until you’re cleared with him, y’hear?”

I saluted him. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Jared shook his head and headed towards the locker room. Michael rounded on me as I grabbed my water bottle from my corner of the mat. “How long have you been doing this behind my back?”