Jaci Burton - Taken by Sin

Then she couldn’t see anything at all, her vision distorted by tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, continuing to press down on the trigger. “I’m so, so sorry.”

What seemed like hours later, Mandy was still in the backseat, staring at the dead demon. Her fingers had long ago gone numb, still wrapped around that pistol, still in full press on the trigger.

She swiped at her eyes. How long had she been there, frozen in some cosmic funk, sitting in the car with a dead demon?

She was going to have to move, and soon. The bar would be closing. People would come. They’d probably notice the dead body slumped against the back window, the splotches of blood on the windows. She was surprised someone hadn’t come along and seen them.

God, she was such a mess. Stiff, sore, wrung out.

But she’d managed to kill the demon-at least, she figured it was dead. She raised her boot and gave it a hard kick between the legs. No reaction.

Okay, it was dead. She grabbed it by the collar and pulled it facedown onto the floor of the backseat, then crawled into the driver’s seat and started up the engine, cranking up the heater. Despite the sweltering humidity outside, she was shivering cold. She drove to the compound, her mind on autopilot, refusing to think about anything that had happened. When she reached the compound, she pressed the remote to the security gate and announced her arrival, then indicated on her comm that she was coming in with a dead demon.

She backed in and techs were there waiting to unload the carcass. She slid out the door and tossed the keys to the waiting tech. “It’s in the backseat,” she said, then scooted by a waiting Michael. She felt his stare on her as she walked into the center and down the long hallway. She made it into the elevator, hoping Michael would want to see the demon, but he stepped into the elevator with her. She pushed the button for the second floor.

Michael didn’t say a word. Neither did she. When the doors opened, she hung a right, stopping at her room to key in her code. She pulled the door open and turned around to face him.

“Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do.” He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

She rolled her eyes and moved into the room, unbuckled her belt, and pulled clips of ammo out of the pockets of her camos. She lifted the tight shirt off and threw that on the little sofa, then toed off her boots.

Clad in only her tank top, camo pants, and socks, she glared at Michael. “I’d like to take a shower. I have blood all over me.”

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah. I killed a demon. You should go check it out.”

“You look destroyed, Mandy”

She dragged her hand through her hair. She’d purposely left it down and loose tonight to look more attractive. Normally she had it pulled up or braided. Now it was a tangled mess. “I need to brush my hair. Sorry if I don’t look my best.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. There are dark circles under your eyes. You’re pale as death. You look ragged. Have you slept?”

Sleep? What’s that? “Of course. I’m fine. Did you hear me say I shot a demon? Are you at all interested in my report?”

“Eventually. I’m more interested in you. Something happened in that cold room the other day with the demon.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It was nothing. I’m over it. Did you hear what I said? I killed a demon tonight, Michael.” She needed him to hear her. She needed to get back in the field. She really needed a shower. The smell of demon blood was making her dizzy, nauseous. Michael’s face began to swim before her eyes. Shit.

“It wasn’t nothing. You look pale. Oh, Christ, Mandy put your head down.”

All she heard was his voice buzzing in her ears. He reached behind her and grabbed the nape of her neck, shoving her head down between her knees.

“Stay there. Don’t move.”

It wasn’t like she could sit upright. Not with the room spinning. Her whole body began to shake. This wasn’t good. What the hell was happening to her? Some kind of delayed stress reaction or something?

The last thing she wanted was to fall apart.

Correction: The last thing she wanted was to fall apart with Michael in here. She’d held it together just fine the whole way back here. Why did he have to follow her to her room?

“Get out, Michael.” She was going to throw up. She had to … oh, man, this sucked. She pressed her fingers to her temples. She was hot, cold, sweaty. What was happening to her?

Michael came back a few seconds later and swept her hair away from her nape. Something cold and wet pressed to the back of her neck. It felt good, helped to stem the nausea some.

He squatted down in front of her, stroked her hair while he held the washcloth against her neck. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get you up.”

Get up? No way. “I’ll be fine here. You can go now.”

“You’re covered in blood, Mandy. It’s all over your hands and your face.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ick.”

If she kept her eyes closed, the dizziness wasn’t so bad. She could just stay like this. But suddenly hands slid under her arms.

“Come on. We need to get you cleaned up.”

She didn’t want to get up. She wanted to go to sleep, to shut everything off, to stop thinking and feeling for a while. “No.”

“Yes.”

She was lifted, cradled against Michael’s chest. Really, she wanted to protest. She wasn’t a little thing, not petite like many women. She was almost six feet tall and not at all a lightweight, yet Michael carried her effortlessly into the bathroom. She heard the sound of water turning on. The shower.

He set her on her feet, leaning her against the cool tile wall, then she felt hands at the button on her camos. Her eyes shot open.

“I don’t think so.”

“Can you do it on your own?” He took a step back, only an inch or so. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons, her legs rubbery and unsteady as she began to slide down the wall.

Fuck. “No.” She fell back against the wall, helpless.

“You want me to get one of the female techs to come in and help you?”

“Oh, hell, no.” That would be just what she needed, some twit, gossipy female whispering about her. At least she could trust Michael not to blab about her failures. “Just do it.”

Michael undid the button and zipper on her pants, let them drop to the floor, then wrapped his arm around her while he lifted her tank top above her head. As she stood in her bathroom with the shower running, clad only in her bra and panties, she realized that no man had ever seen her in this little clothing.

And it was about to get worse than that.

“Hold on, Mandy.”

“Uh-huh.”

He bent down and she felt his hands on her hips as he dropped to the floor.

“Lift your foot so I can get your socks off.”

She cooperated to the extent she was able, her gaze drifting down to see Michael’s head against her thigh. She laid her hand on top of it. Soft, silky hair, just as she’d imagined. Too bad she was too dizzy, too sick, to really enjoy this, because Michael was a hot guy.

He stood and gazed down at her, something unfathomable in the depths of his blue eyes. “Can you get in there on your own?”

“Um. Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll let you take it from here, then.”

He let go. She wobbled and her knees buckled.

“Shit,” Michael said, grabbing her around the waist.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Hold on to this.” He grabbed her hand and pulled the shower door closed, putting her hand on the towel rail outside the door. “Don’t let go. I’ll be right back.”

“Uh-huh.” Like she could go anywhere. Between the wall and the rack, she was good right here.