Page 84 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“Stop prevaricating,” I grumble.

He rummages through a few boxes under his desk, thereby ignoring me.

“Mine? I’m talking to you,” I tell him, tapping my foot against the floor impatiently. It’s late and it’s getting increasingly colder. His flimsy tent does little to keep the chill out.

I let out a shudder, which he notices.

“You’re cold,” he states, straightening his back and letting his gaze roam over my body.

I’m only wearing my nursing uniform and it’s made out of a very thin cotton. I suppose these British don’t have the funds to make something thicker considering the government can barely feed its own people.

“I’m fine.”

“No. You are not,” he says.

He goes back to his boxes, and the first thing he takes out is a small wooden container. He places it on the desk and returns to his search. After a few more moments, he takes out a woolen sweater. Getting to his feet, he comes to my side and, without a word, he puts the sweater on me.

I gasp in surprise. But it’s too late. He’s already pulled it over my head and down my body, going as far as to reach inside and grab my arms so they can go through the sleeves.

Given our size differences, his sweater is like a dress on me. But it’s a thick, warm dress, the wool soft and smooth—a high-quality blend.

I let out a sigh of contentment. How can I tell him off when this feels so good? So warm, so comfortable?

“Better?” he asks, his lips quirked up in a smile.

“So much better.”

“Good,” he purrs.

His voice is deep and calm, and now that I no longer have to mind my trembling limbs, I am back to noticing things about him. Like how his smooth voice travels all the way to my belly in a way that I do not think is biologically possible. Or how his scent envelops me now that I’m wrapped in his sweater.

Ugh! Stop this, Minerva!

“Back to the demons,” I state firmly as I force those thoughts out of my mind.

He shrugs. “I’ve always been able to see them.”

He’s in front of me now. Although he’s put on a shirt, his impressive physique is unmistakable. His arms are thick and bulging with muscles.

“What do you mean?” I croak. Damn him and his perfectly sculpted body. As if it wasn’t enough that I had to not only stare at those hard and defined abdominals just moments ago, but I also had to touch them when I was treating his cut and…

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is a serious conversation. I must focus!

“I can’t tell you how it happened, when it started, or why, since I do not know it myself,” he states casually.

“When you say you’ve always been able to see them, you mean…”

“Since I was a child,” he confirms.

I nod pensively—and if I’m honest with myself, a little relieved. It means he’s not on the brink of death. But if that is not the case, then he must have some strong spiritual energy that allows him to see beyond the physical realm.

That is…interesting.

I have heard of such mortals, but since I have not spent much time with his kind, I’ve never met one before.

“You hit the demon,” I add. “You can touch them in their spiritual form?”

“I can touch ghosts, too.” He smiles.

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