CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MORNING ARRIVED, but the motel room showed no sign of it. Sunlight didn't seep past the taped-together curtains covering the only window and Reyes must have unplugged the clock, because there were no bright red numbers alerting her to the time.
Danika's eyelids opened slowly. The scent of coffee wafted to her, a summoning finger she couldn't resist, and she eased up. The cotton sheet fell to her waist, baring her breasts to the cool air.
Shivering, she gripped the material and snatched it up to her chin. All the while her gaze circled the small area. Reyes was no longer in bed. His clothes were gone from the floor.
Where had he—
The door opened before she could work up a good steam, finally allowing a flood of bright light inside.
Danika blinked against it, even held up a hand to cover her now-watering eyes.
'Good. You're awake,' Reyes said, shutting the door.
Since the light had been successfully chased away by shadows, she allowed her hand to fall to her side, her hungry gaze seeking the man who had given her so much pleasure last night—the man who had not let her give him the same.
He stopped beside the table, and she noticed he held a small sack in his hand. 'Breakfast is on the table. I am sorry the selection is poor, but I shopped here, at the motel, so that I could watch our door and ensure your safety.'
She tore her gaze from him—hardest thing ever—and looked at the table. A cup of coffee, three candy bars and a bag of chips awaited her. 'That's perfect,' she said, and she meant it. Not because she liked those items but because he'd gone to so much trouble for her. Her stomach rumbled. 'What's in the bag?'
'A shirt,' he said, offering no more.
What was with him? He was acting distant again, as if last night hadn't happened. Lids narrowed, she swung her attention back to him. Over the past few days, she'd noticed he changed T-shirts at least three times a day. She thought she knew why. He didn't want her to see dried blood on the material.
To have bought one this morning meant he must have cut himself. Again.
'Take off your shirt,' she told him.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He strode to the bathroom, throwing over his shoulder, 'Eat, shower, dress. We see your family today.'
Her heart leapt at the thought, betraying the nervousness she'd denied last night, as well as excitement. Were they happy? Did they miss her as intensely as she missed them? Why had they gotten together and not included her?
Shoving those questions aside for the moment, Danika catapulted off the bed and raced for the bathroom. Naked, she twisted, spread her arms and clutched the frame, blocking Reyes just as he tried to enter.
He stopped a whisper away from her. Her nipples instantly hardened, reaching for him. His mouth, his touch. That fragrance of sandalwood that seemed to follow him no matter the time of day or what he'd been doing, enveloped her.
She licked her lips. 'Take off your shirt.'
His dark gaze locked on her, hot as it slid down…down…Her skin erupted in those delicious goose bumps, and her legs trembled.
'You have the most delectable little body I've ever seen,' he said hotly.
'Th-thank you. Now the shirt. You won't be able to distract me.'
His free hand latched on to the frame, just under hers, as if he needed to hold on to
'I said you can't distract me. Besides, I'm not cold
His lips twitched, even while the heat in his gaze intensified. 'No, not all the time.'
'Why, then? Because the air is cold?'
At her dry tone, the twitching became a full grin. Every nerve ending in her body sparked, shooting her full of electricity and warmth. That smile, oh, that smile. As heady as his caresses.
'You are a portal to both the heavens and the underworld.' He leaned down…down…his lips brushed her ear.
She shivered.
'At times, your spirit connects with the hereafter, pulling images into your mind.'
She shook her head in disbelief. 'If that were true, I would have been cold my entire life. But I didn't experience that bone-numbing sensation until after I met you.'
'I must be a—' he closed his eyes for a moment, obviously searching for the correct word '—conduit for you, then. Every time I'm with you, I fly to the heavens.'
Now she grinned. 'That just means I'm a better lover than I ever realized.' First they thought she was some All-Seeing Eye. Now a portal?
At least, that was her prayer. She didn't want to be anything more. She didn't want people chasing her for the rest of her—short?—life. She deserved rest and relaxation, damn it. With Reyes. They could travel to a beach, laze on the white sand, and he could pretend to be her massage therapist.
'With training, you could probably learn to control your visions. Decide where to visit, heaven or hell. Decide how long to stay, who to watch.'
By the middle of his speech, she was shaking her head. Sweat had broken out over her body, yet the chill had returned to her blood. 'I don't want to talk about this anymore. I want you to take off your goddamn shirt!'
His head tilted to the side, but he didn't obey her.
Fine. He wanted to avoid the subject of his self-inflicted torture, then she'd give him something worse to ponder. Maybe then he'd beg to talk about his newest wounds. 'Listen up. You come when you're with me, but from what I can tell you only hurt yourself a little. Nothing close to what the other women had to do to you. That has to mean your demon is tamer when you're with me. True?'
He hesitated, his eyes suspicious, nodding stiffly.
Surprise filled her, because she'd merely been guessing. If the demon calmed for her and no other, that had to mean
His mouth fell open.
'I wonder where the demon goes. Who knows, maybe it travels to hell to visit its buddies. Want to test the theory?'
As if he were in a daze, he staggered backward. 'I—I—'
'This is good news.' She stepped toward him. 'Right? You can be with me without fear of destroying me.'
'I do not dare hope,' he whispered brokenly. 'You know what happens when people hope.'
Shit. She didn't have a ready reply to that.
'You wanted to see my wounds.' There was a heavy pause in which he remained absolutely still. Then he dropped the bag he'd been holding and gripped the end of his shirt. He jerked the material over his head, baring his chest to her view. 'Look.'
Her plan had worked. And yet, she realized she would have liked to continue the discussion. She'd made some excellent points. But then her gaze moved over him and she saw the scabs that covered the entire muscled expanse of his chest, some even marring the butterfly tattoo. They were long slashes and short slices, and all intertwined in a mess of pain.
'You did this to yourself?' she asked tightly.
'Yes.'
Would he ever trust her to help him? Probably not, she thought next, disappointment flooding her. Unless…
One day soon, she would have to surprise him. If she was able to send his demon away, he would not need
