Fallen Angel (Hqn) (4 page)

Not that that had been any better. In the Middle East he’d merely traded one grief for another.

He turned back to the woman in the bed, barely alive, kept that way by the breathing tube and Lord knew what other machines they had her hooked up to. He had to wonder if his optimism meant she’d really make it, or if he was screwed up enough that he had to make something up. Something to believe in rather than watching another woman die before her time.

“Hey, Dec.”

He turned at his father’s voice, annoyed that he’d been caught in this condition: brooding, worried. Weak.

“Dad.” His father’s gray eyes were watchful, taking everything in at once, making Declan even more self-conscious. He gestured to the chair. “Do you want to sit down?”

“You look like you need to sit more than I do. You been here all night again?”

“Damn right.” Why did he feel the need to lash out? Defensive?

Oran let out a small sigh. “Well, that’s nice of you, son. Nice of you to sit with the girl. Any news about who she is yet?”

“I figured you’d know more than I would, being part of the old-boy loop.”

“I haven’t heard a thing yet.”

“Neither have I.” Declan’s hands fisted at his sides. He pulled in a breath, reminding himself that everything didn’t have to be a confrontation with his father. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll come and get Liam soon.”

“No need. He’s fine at my place. I like having him around. He’s good company. And Ruth likes dogs.”

He tried to ignore Ruth’s name being brought up. It wasn’t that Declan disliked her. He didn’t even know her. But he resented his father trying to replace his mother. He knew it was ridiculous. It had been ten years, and that was a long time to be alone. But even if his father was ready to move on, Declan wasn’t. But the man didn’t have to care for his dog, so he’d keep his mouth shut about his girlfriend and be grateful. “Yeah, well…thanks for looking after him.”

“Sure. Like I said, it’s no problem.” His father moved closer to the bed. “How is she?”

“No change. They’ve set her broken bones, repaired the internal injuries. They don’t know at this point if she won’t wake up because of the injuries or the drugs in her system. Both, maybe.”

Oran shook his head. “She’s a beautiful girl. Hard to think of anyone wanting to do this to someone. It’s crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it. I heard state police took over the investigation.”

“Yeah. State park jurisdiction.”

“And you don’t like that.”

“I don’t want to be left out of the loop, and right now Tim won’t talk.”

“Tim’s local sheriff—he’s probably being kept in the dark for now, as much as anyone else.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You should go home, get some sleep. You can’t have slept much in this chair.”

“I keep telling you, I’m fine. I’ll head home to shower in a while.”

His father jammed both hands in his pockets, his lips setting in a hard line for a moment before he blew out a long breath. “Okay, Dec. Call me if she wakes up, will you? Call if you need anything.”

“If you can just keep Liam a little longer…”

“I’ll keep him as long as you need me to.”

Declan could see the unasked questions in his father’s eyes. They were always there. He wanted to know why his son had pushed him away, why he couldn’t forgive him. Yeah, well, maybe his dad would have those answers when Declan did.

He looked back at the woman in the hospital bed. He was a real shit to be thinking about his own problems right now.

“I’ll see you later, Dec. Try to get some rest.”

“Okay. See you later.”

He hated that he acted like some surly teenager around his father. He didn’t hate the man. But he couldn’t let the old blame go. Or maybe he’d never really tried very hard. But it was too hard to think about all that now. He was damn tired. His mind reeling with a thousand thoughts about the girl. Who the hell had done this to her. If she would survive.

A machine beeped and he turned to the bed, but she slept on. Sleeping Beauty. Blonde and sweet, like someone out of a fairy tale, and this never should have happened to her, goddamn it.

The anger was rising again, sharp and burning in his chest, his throat. He swallowed it down. Anger wasn’t going to do him any good. It never had.

“Good morning, Declan.” A nurse came bustling in, a chart in her hands. “This might be a good time to head home for a bit while I change her dressings.”

“Okay. Thanks, Liz. I think I will. You have my cell if anything changes?”

“Of course.”

“All right…”

Liz stepped toward him, laid a hand on his arm. He had to steel himself not to jerk away from this nice woman. “You need sleep. Take a nap while you’re there, too, will you? She’s not going anywhere. We’ll take good care of her. You’re dead on your feet, and no good to her like this. Promise me you’ll stay home and take care of yourself for a few hours?”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right.” He managed to slip out of her soft grasp. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“I am right, Declan. Shower. Rest. And do it now. Go on.”

The nurse smiled and stayed put, her arms crossed, until he’d grabbed his keys and the worn copy of
Animal Farm
he’d brought with him and walked out the door and into the wide hallway. He moved down the corridor, through a set of automatic doors and down another long hallway without thinking about it. He knew the route by heart.

Outside, the sun was just coming through the cloud cover, casting soft golden light on the road, tipping the tall, dusky pines lining the highway. He swung up into his truck and started the engine, let it rev for a moment before he pulled onto Highway One and headed south.

It would be an hour’s drive or more to get home, but he didn’t mind. He switched on the iPod he had plugged into the truck’s stereo and flipped through his collection of rock and country until he found a playlist of classical music. He needed something soothing. Soft. Life had been too intense lately. He didn’t need intense music.

The road was a blur of charcoal-gray against the backdrop of trees. He rubbed his eyes, gripped the steering wheel.

Liz was right. He needed rest. He was exhausted. He didn’t really sleep in the chair beside her bed. He stayed up most of the night, watching her face, listening to her breathe, dozing off for maybe twenty minutes at a time. Praying she would open her eyes. That she would be okay.

He didn’t even know this woman. Didn’t know her name, where she’d come from. It didn’t matter, hadn’t mattered since the moment he’d laid eyes on her. There was something about her…he felt connected to her.

He knew the psychology involved. Hero saves damsel in distress. Yeah, he’d fucked that up the last time, hadn’t he? Were his feelings about this girl nothing more than the need to redeem himself? And if so, what was the insane physical attraction about? Because not one moment had gone by that he hadn’t wanted to touch her,
really
touch her. Lay his palms over her breasts. Kiss her mouth.

Get a grip.

Or maybe get some sleep. Shower. Pull himself together. Then go back to the hospital. He couldn’t stay away for long.

By the time he reached the long gravel driveway to his house his eyes were heavy, and he was glad to be done with the drive. He pulled up in front of the rambling wood-sided cabin with its red door and green painted shutters and got out. Strange, to come home to such silence, without Liam there. He’d go to his father’s place and see him tomorrow.

He let himself in, closing the door behind him with a heavy thud. The place felt empty, musty, as though the house itself could sense that it had been left mostly empty for several days. He’d always liked the quiet; he couldn’t understand why it bothered him now.

You’re just tired.

He
was
tired. He couldn’t remember ever being this wiped. The shower would have to wait.

He moved across the wood floors, his toe catching on the edge of the throw rug. He grumbled, kept moving down the short hallway, tearing his dark blue thermal shirt over his head as he went. Reaching the bed, he sat down to pull his boots off, stood again to remove his jeans. Then he yanked the covers back and just stared at the white sheets for a moment before lying down and throwing the dark brown quilt over his body. He felt himself sink into the down ticking, pure luxury to his stiff and aching muscles.

“Ah…”

His eyes burned, so he closed them, sighing once more. He felt himself drifting, tried to fight it simply because he’d gone so long without sleep that staying awake felt like the right thing to do. But in moments he was giving over to the urge to sleep. To dream. He let his body sink into the bed. It felt so damned good. The sheets soft against his skin.

Skin…

Her skin was like pale satin, like fresh butter beneath his hand. He knew already the curve of her cheek. Wanted to know the curve of her breasts that he’d seen outlined beneath the hospital sheets. That he’d seen on the beach in the chiaroscuro light of dawn.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of her this way. But he couldn’t help himself. She was too damn beautiful and he was too exhausted to fight it. So exhausted he couldn’t fight the images of her in his head. Or was she right in front of him?

Her face shimmered before him, then her body, as if she were under water. There, yet insubstantial. She reached out for him, touched him. Just her fingertips grazing his arm, but his body was on fire instantly.

He knew he couldn’t touch her. But she was smiling at him, her hands sliding over her sides, cupping her naked breasts, inviting him.

Can’t touch her.

“Touch,” she whispered, her voice as soft and quiet as a feather on the air.

Her own hands went between her thighs, and her long lashes lowered to her cheeks, her mouth making a small O of pleasure as she sighed.

He followed her lead, letting his hand slide down over his stomach, the muscles tight with desire already. Then lower, to his stiffening cock. He was hard as steel, just watching her, hearing her voice. He wanted to touch her so badly he could hardly stand it. He wanted to bring her pleasure. To make her cry out in ecstasy.

Her nipples would come up hard beneath his fingertips, growing darker and darker pink as he caressed them. They’d be firm and sweet in his mouth as he sucked.

She looked at him with her sky-blue gaze, her hands coming up to smooth over her full breasts, her fingertips teasing the hardening nipples.

Need poured into his system like the ocean, a powerful, roaring white noise in his head.

Her mouth was pink, so, so pretty, and he knew how soft her lips would be around his cock…

“Ah…”

Sucking, sucking, while his fingers found the sweet cleft between her thighs, delved between the silken folds. She would be wet, his fingers sliding. And then inside her…oh, yes…pushing into her tight, sweet body.

He stroked himself, his fisted hand moving up and down, his hips beginning to thrust. Pleasure knifed through him, hot and sharp. He could almost smell her desire. Could smell his own. He was going to come soon.

“Ah, God…”

If only he could touch her. He would spread her pretty thighs, move down between them, his tongue pushing into her. He could almost hear her moans, feel her muscles tightening as desire rose, her hard nub of flesh in his mouth, her sweetness on his tongue.

“Yes…” She smiled at him, all lovely, sweet innocence, along with an almost unbearable sensuality. Too damn beautiful, this girl.

His hips arched, his hand gripping his cock until it nearly hurt. But it felt too damn good.

He would make her come, with his hands, with his mouth, her head thrashing. And then he would fuck her. Just slip between her thighs, spread those full, pink pussy lips and slide inside.

“Ah, God…”

Was that him crying out? Was it her?

Pleasure stabbing into him as he drove into her, drove into his palm. Heat and need arrowing deep into his belly. And it was her face, twisted in exquisite agony, her lovely body he was fucking, fucking…

“Angel!”

He came, his body clenching, bucking. He shivered, pleasure a pure, driving force, taking him over, blinding him to everything but her face.

Angel.

His angel.

He woke, sat straight up. His hand, his stomach, were sticky with his seed.

“Fuck.”

Breathless still, he rolled onto his side and pulled some Kleenex from the box there, wiped himself off impatiently.

This was wrong.
Wrong.

But she was so beautiful. His heart was already beating in anticipation of seeing her again. Even if all he could ever have of her was in his dreams.

Must be losing my goddamn mind.

Maybe he was. But he wasn’t going to stay away from her. Not a chance.

* * *

W
HERE
HAD
HE
GONE
? S
HE
still couldn’t open her eyes, but she knew he wasn’t there. She sensed it. And Asmodeus had abandoned her, too. She was alone, in some strange place. Not the falling darkness where she met with her demon lover. Not back at the compound, in her bed in The Grandmother’s house, with its familiar, earthy scents. Here everything smelled…white.

The pain was tolerable. If only she could move, see where she was, then maybe she would know what was going to happen to her. She had no idea if she would exist in the shadow places with Asmodeus, or in some new place, on some new plane. Perhaps in that place of piercing light? But that was where
he
was, her stranger.

If only he would come back to her, the man whose face she’d seen. He would care for her. He
did
care for her. She’d seen it in his clear blue eyes, even in that one brief glimpse.

She heard the muffled sound of footsteps, but it wasn’t him. His were sharper. She felt hands on her, gentle female hands, doing…something. It hurt, but she knew it wasn’t made to hurt on purpose. She wanted to force her eyes to open. She wanted to ask questions. But her body wouldn’t cooperate with her brain. The feet shuffled away, leaving her in silence once more.