Page 33 of Samhain Savior
“Oh!” Cheeks heating, I lifted my chin, very pointedly keeping my gaze on Mal’s eyes and absolutely nothing else. “Um, hey, Mal. What can I do for you?”
He stared, not moving, not even blinking, and it felt like he was looking into my very soul. After the longest of moments, he turned, giving me his back. I gasped at the sight, my hand coming to my mouth to cover the shock. Decorating the planes of Mal’s back were tattoos, a pair of intricately detailed raven’s wings, stretching from his shoulder blades to nearly his waist. They were breathtaking, every line and curve woven together perfectly to create a beautiful tapestry that left me gaping in awe.
As I stared, Mal opened one of those gate things, this one smaller than a loaf of bread, and reached inside, pulling out a pair of dark gray sweat pants and sliding them on. When he was finished, the gate closed and he turned to face me again.
Feeling much more comfortable now that all of Mal’s bits were safely covered, I allowed myself to look at him again, this time noticing that he actually hadn’t been completely naked before. Around his neck hung the compass, and I pursed my lips, wondering how it had managed toshift with him; I’d never heard of a shifter being able to shift inanimate objects with them.
But then again, maybe a demon wasn’t really a shifter at all.
“Are you alright?” Mal asked plainly, scrutinizing me from top to bottom. “Are you hurt? Hungry? What do you need?”
I could feel my eyebrows shooting sky high, the shock of his questions rendering me speechless.
“Archer didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“What?” I shook my head. “No, of course not.” Archer may have been a lot of things, but so far, he hadn’t even laid a hand on me.
“What about that?” Mal lifted his chin in the direction of the collar. “I saw it. I saw it choking you.” Shaking his head, Mal huffed out a frustrated breath. “He shouldn’t have done that. Punishment is only for the guilty. He shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“Mal?” I questioned softly, sensing his agitation and not wanting to make it worse. “How do you know?” When he frowned in confusion, I elaborated. “How do you know I’m not guilty?”
Archer had seemed so certain, willing to bet everything on the fact that I was a member of the Order and hadstolen from Father Phips. But Mal appeared just as certain that I was not.
Stepping closer, Mal looked down at me, his body so near I could smell the night wind on his skin. Not wanting to appear weak, I stayed where I was, needing to show him that I wasn’t afraid.
And I wasn’t. Not really.
But I was really, really curious.
Raising one hand, Mal brought it up beside my head, his fingers ghosting over my cheek reverently, his touch barely perceptible. It was intimate, but not sexually so. It was as though Mal was simplylearningme, viewing me as one would a sculpture in a gallery. With respect and a touch of admiration.
The experience was utterly humbling.
“I know,” he whispered, his fingers now hovering over the shadow collar. “Because you smell like a promise kept. You feel like a wish granted and a debt paid. You,” he finished, stepping back and wrapping one hand around the compass that hung down his chest. “Are who we’ve been waiting for.”
His words cut me to the very core, but before I could respond, an explosion rocked through the house, throwing everything into chaos once again.
Chapter fourteen
Archer
Like a caged tiger, I paced.
The guys had all gone their separate ways, none of them able to stomach another second with my surly ass. Vine was in his room, the bass of his sound system thumping through the walls of the brownstone as he pouted like an angsty teenager. Corson was in the basement, punishing himself in the weight room he’d set up there. I could picture it, sweat pouring down his reddened face as he cursed me with every set he lifted.
Mal had taken to the skies hours ago, and I wasn’t sure we’d see him again before sunrise.
And Delilah? She was still tucked away in the room that Vine had showed her to earlier.
I knew because I could fucking feel her there, her presence niggling at my senses like a thorn, small and sharp and utterly fucking annoying.
Standing in the front parlor, I strode from one end to the other, the long and narrow space acting like the perfect runway to contain my anxious thoughts.
Corson had given me an earful before he had descended to the basement, and the other two had shot plenty of disgusted looks my way. More than enough to realize they thought I was being an unholy idiot.
I didn’t like admitting that they might have been right.
The witch was clearly in trouble, alone against the entirety of the Order. It was stupid to think that she could be working with them when she was clearly connected to Phips.
