Page 6 of Mystique of the Fallen
Three men emerged, which gained his attention, but Grant eye’s locked on the driver. He wore black, and his pants stretched across an ass that had Grant licking his lips in appreciation. As if the man sensed Grant’s staring, he turned to glance at him.
Grant grabbed his camera from the passenger seat to zoom in on the raven-haired man’s face. It was perfection. Straight nose. Strong, square jaw. Gorgeous blue eyes. Masculine beauty at its finest. Without thinking, Grant snapped several photos. To his horror, the man said something to his companions, then headed straight for Grant’s dirty car.
Panic swept through Grant, though he couldn’t understand why. Every person’s ideal man walked toward Grant with an innate grace. It was also sexy as hell.
The stranger stepped up to Grant’s car and tapped on the car window. Grant gulped. He hit the ignition so he could roll down the window, and a part of his brain screamed at him to run. That feeling increased as his dick grew hard and the intense smell of popcorn hit him. It was odd for such a gorgeous specimen of a man to have the scent of buttery goodness, but who was Grant to judge?
The man’s mouth curved, and Grant’s heart pounded erratically. It was like being a schoolboy with a crush. Grant didn’t understand what was wrong with him. Forcing himself to think, Grant lowered his eyes and realized the man wore a uniform. One he recognized from his stint as a cop.
His lip curled in disgust. The too-handsome man was an undead creature. A fallen knight. Any attraction Grant had to the man disappeared and was replaced by distaste. The man was resurrected—literally a zombie.
His shirt said Calixtus and had a VK on it. Grant didn’t know shit about their ranks, and he didn’t care.
“Yeah?” Grant asked belligerently.
The man’s grin faltered. “Good morning, I’m Roman.”
“And? What do you want?”
“Fine, we’ll talk business first. Who are you, and why are you sitting outside these townhouses?”
“Last time I checked, this was human property, so that’s none of your damn business. In fact, it’s illegal for undead freaks like you to be on human land. You should get the hell out of here before someone calls the cops.”
Roman narrowed his clear blue eyes, which Grant refused to allow his brain to label as pretty any longer. “Do human cops allow strangers to stalk people? Because that’s what I understand you’ve been doing for the past few days.”
“I’m a private investigator doing my damn job. Mind your own business.”
“Look, I know you’re freaked out. This is overwhelming for me too. But I don’t think this situation calls for hostility. Were you hired by the ex-husband accused of nearly killing her? Because that case is going to trial. She deserves justice.”
“Not if she’s hanging out with zombies like you.”
“I haven’t even met her, and I’m not a fucking zombie. I’m a fallen knight.”
“Same difference.” Roman’s words finally caught up with Grant’s brain. “Wait. What do you mean I’m freaked out? How do you know what’s going on in my head?”
Roman smiled, but it was far from the same joyous expression he’d worn at the start of their conversation. “You had an erection, right? One that came from nowhere. Maybe some euphoria. A powerful scent—probably one you really like—also surrounds me.”
Grant scowled. “Can you read minds?”
“No, I know, because the same thing happened to me.”
“What?”
“I don’t understand it either. You’re human. Fallen knights don’t have human mates.”
“Mates? What the hell are you talking about?”
“At least tell me your name.”
Shaking his head, Grant set his camera aside before he dropped it. His hands were inexplicably sweaty, and his heart pounded erratically. “Why?”
“Please?”
“Fine. It’s Grant. Happy?”
“No. I have a feeling this is going to be far more difficult than I ever imagined. Tell me how I can convince you to leave this woman alone.”
“You aren’t my boss, and the fallen knights have no jurisdiction over humans. I’m doing my damn job. Go away.” And there was no way Grant was putting up with one of Reginald’s fits to please a stranger.
