Angel in Chains (The Fallen #3)(15)
Author: Cynthia Eden

He lifted a brow. “Hardly.” Her suggestion was fairly insulting. As if he couldn’t handle a few bullet wounds.

“Good.” Her breath expelled in a fast rush. He watched her hurry out of the car and race around to his side. She opened his door and reached for him. “Come on. Just lean on me.”

How . . . interesting. She was trying to help him again.

Once out of the car, he leaned. Az didn’t need to, of course, but he liked the feel of her body against his. She took his left arm and draped it over her shoulders. Her body angled toward his, and the lush fullness of her br**sts pressed into his chest.

So soft.

Her scent teased his nose. Those strawberries again. He needed a taste of them. Of her.

His head tilted toward her as she maneuvered them along the stone path that led to the dwelling. It was odd, but her body—small, slender—seemed to fit just right beside his.

When they got to the front door, a rectangular lock box waited for them. Jade yanked on it. Nothing happened. She yanked again, swearing—

Az grabbed it for her and ripped it loose. A key popped free. Jade caught the key in midair and gave him a sunny smile.

The smile stopped him. She had a dimple in her right cheek. He hadn’t noticed that before, but there it was. Small, almost hidden. And her lips looked even fuller than before.

Taste. He’d gotten to sample her mouth, but he wanted it again. Wanted so much more from her.

She opened the door. Az barely glanced at the cabin as he entered. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Jade was biting her lower lip. She wasn’t looking at the cabin’s interior, either. Instead, she stared at him with eyes that were too big and dark.

Those eyes that made him think far too much of sin.

Az reached for his shirt. He yanked it over his head. Dropped it on the floor. There was no missing the hitch in her breathing.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Your-your shoulder. . .”

He knew that wound had already closed. Az turned his back on her. “I can’t reach the second bullet.” This was the area that bothered him.

Silence.

Then the wooden floor creaked as she walked toward him. When her silken hand touched his shoulder, Az tensed.

“I don’t . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

Glancing back over his shoulder, he said, “You won’t.”

Her gaze held his. “You don’t know that.” Her gaze fell to his back. He saw the faint flare of her eyes as she took in the damage. After a moment, she gave a grudging nod. “But we have to get that bullet out.” She bit her lip. “We should get you to a doctor. It’s so close to your spine—”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“Uh, yeah, trust me, you do—”

“A human doctor can’t work on me.” Not unless they wanted the doc to freak and call in the cops.

She sighed as she eased away from him. “There’s a bedroom through there.” She pointed to the doorway. “I—”

“You’ve been here before.” Not a suspicion. A certainty.

Her smile seemed sad. “It helps to have a backup plan in place.”

He wasn’t sure what those words really meant.

Jade headed toward the kitchen area. She said, “I’ll see if I can sterilize—”

“No need.” He rolled his shoulders and felt the pull of the bullet. “I’ll heal from any infection almost immediately.”

Jade wasn’t looking at him as she said, “Those aren’t . . . normal bullets.”

He’d already figured that out. Weapons of man couldn’t hurt his kind. A normal bullet would have been nothing to him. This—it had ripped and torn, and inside, it burned.

She washed her hands. “Go get on the bed,” she said again. “I’ll be right there.”

He turned away from her and stalked to the bedroom. The bed was big, easily wide enough for him and Jade, and he could picture her there. Naked. Waiting for him.

Focus on the pain.

Because he didn’t need to be thinking about sex with her. Not again.

There was a job to do. Jade needed him, and if he played this game just right, she might wind up helping him.

A human, hunted by Other. Saving her would be noble. The right thing to do.

A task that might even earn him . . . redemption.

He’d looked at this all wrong before. The fall wasn’t about living in hell. Instead, it was about showing that you belonged in heaven. If he did the job right, if he helped her . . .

I might get to go back.

Az lay facedown on the bed. The creaking hardwood told him when Jade entered the room. A few moments later, the bed dipped beneath her weight.

“Have you removed a bullet before?” Az asked. Not that it mattered. The bullet had to come out. By an expert or novice hand.

Her hands pressed against his back. “Do you want me to lie and say yes?”

Az almost smiled.

He felt her breath blow over his skin. “It’s so close to your spine . . .” She’d said that before, but this time, heavy worry weighted the words. Then she lifted her hands. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He turned, caught her hand. “You have to.” His jaw locked, and Az said, “It burns, Jade. Like it’s eating away at me from the inside.”

She licked her lips. “It . . . it is. Brandt got those bullets from some witch. I don’t even know that the hell they are made of, but Brandt’s pack uses them to take out the paranormals who get in their way.” Her lips turned down as sadness flickered over her features. “For up close kills, they always use their claws, but from a distance . . . nothing stops their guns.”

“Magic bullets.” Az shook his head. So the shifters had stepped up their game. “Guess I’m just lucky the bastard was a poor shot.” It took a whole lot to kill a Fallen, but maybe—

“You weren’t lucky.” Her hands were on him again, and her slightly cool touch soothed his overheated flesh. “They didn’t want you dead. They wanted you incapacitated. They were—”

She stopped.

But Az knew what Jade had been planning to say next. “They wanted to make me easier prey?”

“The better to torture later,” she said quietly. He felt the press of metal on his back. She must have found some kind of tool in the kitchen. “Don’t move.” Her nervous whisper. “Please don’t move.”

He felt pressure on his back. More pain as the burning deepened.