“You’re drunk off your ass.” Tugging at his arm, I try to pull him up, but he’s solid and apparently determined to stay on the floor. “And a mess. There’s no way I’m letting you on my furniture like this.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I kneel next to him and start peeling his jacket from his shoulders. “Off with this.”
“Youuuuu...rrrrr....otherrrrr.” He’s staring at me like I’m a ghost, or worse, but he lets me prop him up to sitting.
“I’m not, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop insisting I am.” The jacket lands in a heap next to him, and I go to work on his black shirt. Stupid asshole. How dare he show up like this and make me take care of him after what he did to me this afternoon.
“Like…her…” Sin reaches up and tries to touch my cheek, but I bat his hand away and finish with the last few buttons on his shirt.
“Holy fucking shit.” His sculpted chest and abs are impressive, but they’re also covered with scars. Long, thin lines, those same awful T shapes at the ends.Scooting around him, I have to swallow the horror sticking in my throat.
His back is even worse with at least twice the number of scars I saw on Temple’s autopsy photo. How could one man—even if he is a demon—withstand so much pain?
“Sin, my God.”
“God knows.” The words escape on a whisper, and his head lolls forward. When I reach for his belt, he says, “Please. No.”
I rest my hand over his heart and wait for him to look up at me. “You reek, and I’m pretty sure you can’t stand on your own. But I’m going to get a blanket to cover you up. Stay here and don’t try to move.” I leave him with his arms around his knees, swaying slightly, and rummage around in my closet.
Once the blanket’s draped over his body, I kneel back down and touch his cheek. “Give me your pants, and I’ll throw everything in the wash. You can sleep this off on the couch. Okay? I’m so mad at you I should just leave you on the floor, but my grandmother would come back to haunt me if I did that.”
“Mad’s....not here. You are. How?”
He’s not making any sense. My patience is long gone, but so is Sin’s fight, and when I reach for his belt this time, he doesn’t protest. The blanket covers most of what he very obviously doesn’t want me to see, but the brief glimpse I catch of his right thigh reveals more scars—burns this time.
It takes us ten minutes to traverse the few feet to the couch, Sin crawling on his knees with me bracing him so he doesn’t fall over, but once he’s stretched out under the blanket, he forces his eyes open and for one second, I think he actually focuses on me. “Thank you, Zoe.”
“Yeah, well...you might not feel the same way in the morning with the hangover you’re definitely going to have. Good night, Sin.”
Eleven
Sin
The scent of coffee rouses me. I force my eyes open and wince against the bright lights. Fuck. It has been years since I had a hangover this terrible. Worse, I can feel the first stirrings of hunger in my gut. Soon, I will need to find a willing snack.
“I wouldn’t get up if I were you.”
Zoe. The last hour of my night comes screaming back to me in a rush. Searching for Regina. Failing to find her. Stopping at a liquor store for a bottle of Absinthe and using it to dull the pain of my memories.
Then...ending up here.
She sets a mug of coffee down on the end table. “You’re naked under there, and I don’t fancy a show.”
From the way her cheeks tinge pink, she does. Very much. But I, on the other hand, do not want to give her one. This was—is—inappropriate on every level.
Drawing the blanket closer to my chest, I sit up and groan. “I owe you an apology.”
“Several.”
With a sigh, Zoe leans against the arm of a chair a few feet away. She wears a long, peach robe, and her red curls are damp. Her scent wraps around me—coconut and watermelon—and I breathe deeply, wanting more. I do not understand why her mere presence both soothes and irritates me, but under the blanket, my cock rises to attention, and I shift my legs to hide my reaction from her.
“Several, then. Was I…indelicate? Indecent?” The way my body is reacting to her now is definitely the latter, but hopefully she has not noticed. I bow my head, letting the rich scent of coffee replace all else, and the first sip eases the pounding behind my eyes.
“No. But you woke me well after midnight, stumbled in here babbling and smelling of puke, and then passed out. Plus, you left me at headquarters yesterday with no explanation. Alone. Onmyfirst day.”
She keeps her tone soft, thankfully, but the judgment is clear. She believes me to be an asshole. She would be right. I am.
“It was a difficult evening.”
