His shoulder muscles bunched, causing a fresh spurt of blood to leak out. “No.”
“But—”
“Get. Izzeri,” he cut her off.
Eve stared at him, dumbfounded. He disliked her touching him that much?
“The Guardians are stubborn sons-of-bitches.” Michael’s tone matched the walls of the granite room. “Them, Ihaveto deal with, but you—”
“Not interested.”
“—are an ass. Izzeri isn’t here. Either let her tend to you or wait until tomorrow. Your choice. It means you’re off rotation longer. You may not be a Guardian, but you will follow the rules. I don’t want you on Ear—in New York until you’re healed.”
He slapped a small bottle on the bedside table and said to Eve, “If he gives you any trouble, pour the damn thing down his throat—should knock him out and give his thick hide time to heal.”
Michael strode out of the room. Eve turned to Reynner and was seared with a stay-the-hell-away glare. The only reason she’d offered to help was because he got hurt trying to protect her.
“If you don’t want me tending to you,” she told him in a determined voice, “you’re going to have to get out of that bed and throw me out.”
She ignored his narrowing eyes, picked up the terrycloth Michael had discarded, and dampened it with warm water. Her hands shook as she reached for him. Despite her brave words, she expected him to jump up and physically toss her out of there.
When he didn’t, she hid her relief and carefully wiped away the blood smeared on his back. Awareness flowed through her at the warmth of his skin beneath her hand, the rock-hard muscles. She wanted to stroke every inch of his tan, sexy body—
Ugh! Eve forced her mind back on her task. Not wanting to hurt him, she kept her touch light as she cleaned off the mess. She dared a glance at him and her heart lurched painfully when she found his dark, intense gaze fixed on her.
Idiot. It means nothing. He’s just making sure you’re treating his injuries and not copping a feel of his gorgeous bod.
But ignoring him became a test of endurance when his burning gaze tracked her every move. She dropped the soiled towel, picked up the jar, and uncapped the ointment. A musty, mossy scent permeated the air.
“What is this?” she asked, needing a moment to calm her fluster.
“A potion. Helps heal the wounds from the hellfire bolts those dead bastards deal out.”
Her gaze flickered to him. Did he expect her to run screaming from the room now that she knew demoniis existed? At times, he frightened her more than those demoniis did!
Ugh, who was she kidding? Her attraction to him terrified her the most.
Taking a deep breath, Eve scooped up the green paste with two fingers and applied it gently to the wounds. “Will this help you? It looks really bad.”
“I’ll heal to fight another day.”
She stopped her ministrations, studied his closed off expression.
His detached response troubled her. Did he not care what happened to him? “Why do you hunt demoniis if you dislike it?”
“You misunderstand me. Destroying the bastards gives me one of life’s few pleasures.” The intense hatred in his voice appalled her. “Shocked you, did I?”
Yes, she was shocked. She was only trying to help. Did he think she was responsible for his current situation? Then she winced. Okay, maybe she was. So she remained silent.
***
Reynner gritted his teeth, pain and fever razing through him. He needed,wantedher touch… It soothed him.No—no, he tried to clear his hazy thoughts.Females—they’re all the same…
He didn’t wanthertouching him.Too aware of her…not good…not good.Then icy dampness settled over the scorching fire of his wound, blessed relief hissed through him. Cool fingers stroked down the edges of the gauze and he shuddered under her gentle care.
There was something he needed to say, but whatever the hell Michael had pushed down his throat was fogging his mind, and her touch wiped out the rest of his lucid thoughts.
“What is this place?” Eve’s soft voice drifted over him like a tormenting caress.
