He gave her hand a little squeeze as she wheeled the car between two large cypress trees and cut the engine. “This is it.”
Sabrina didn’t want Arand to let her hand go. Just that minor contact bolstered her courage, and she desperately needed the boost. Her skin was clammy and it felt as though an entire swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. Talking to Jessica hadn’t helped. Her friend was obviously worried, and Sabrina knew the precautions she’d suggested were stopgap measures at best and wouldn’t stop the coming storm.
Waiting for Hades to strike was like waiting for a hurricane, never knowing exactly where it would hit or with how much ferocity.
She stared at the little house with the chipping white paint and wondered what Arand saw when he looked at it. Sabrina saw love and safety and happiness. Home. She missed her granny so much. “We should get inside.”
She grabbed her bag, opened the door and climbed out, listening to the sounds of the bayou around her. They enveloped her like a lullaby, adding to her sense of safety. She loved the city with its vibrancy and people. The city gave her a living and the best friends ever. But this little house on the edge of the swamp would always be home.
“Get the box, will you?”
Arand shook his head. “I need to keep my hands free to fight.”
Of course he did. Not looking at him, she opened the back door and yanked out the large box, balancing it on her hip while she shut the door. The path to the house was starting to become overgrown. She really needed to get out here and do some maintenance work or hire someone to do it. The last thing she wanted was the house to fall down due to neglect. And the swamp would claim it quickly if she weren’t diligent.
Sabrina trudged up the two steps to the porch, keeping one eye open for gators. You never knew when one of them might get it in his head to take a nap on the front porch. She was very aware of Arand walking behind her, his gaze constantly moving, searching through the thick growth of trees and the thick vegetation.
She set the box down and dug her keys out of her purse, selecting the right one. The lock turned and the door opened. A closed-up, slightly musty smell hit her nose and she grimaced at the reminder of how long it had been since she’d last been here. Her granny would not be pleased.
Sabrina lugged the box inside and set it on the kitchen table. The floor plan was open with the kitchen, dining area and living room all flowing into one. Off to the left side of the house were two small bedrooms and a tiny bathroom. Everything was just how it had been when her granny had passed. The white starched doily sat in the middle of the table, the pale-green Depression glass bowl sat on top of it, empty now, when it had always been filled with fruit.
The door closed and she turned to face Arand. He was looking around the space with obvious interest. The covering on the sofa was worn, the flowered pattern long faded and a thin layer of dust coated the furniture. “This is where you grew up?”
She nodded. “Yes. After my parents were killed I lived here with Granny LeGrande until I moved into the city to pursue my career as an artist.”
His gaze sharpened. “You are an artist.”
It struck her like a sledgehammer how little they knew about one another. Yes, they’d had sex. Yes, they were on the run together from a vengeful god. But there were fundamental things they had yet to learn about one another. It saddened her that they might not get the chance even though she knew it was silly to feel that way.
“Yes. I paint and sketch.” She pointed to a framed sketch she’d done of the swamp about five years ago. Granny had hung it on the wall with pride.
Arand strode over and stood in front of the small piece, studying it intently.
“I paint in oils now as well, but I still do a lot of sketches. The tourists like to buy those.” And she was beginning to babble.
Arand turned to her, his gaze intense. “You are very good.” He shook his head. “No, you are exceptional. You capture the vibrancy of the place even in a pencil sketch.” His gaze narrowed. “There were two unfinished pieces leaning against the shelf in your living room. Were they yours?”
With everything else that had happened, Sabrina had forgotten all about them. “Yeah.” She wandered around the room, touching a small glass bowl she’d bought for her granny for Christmas one year. “I started them a while back but put them away when I wasn’t quite sure how to finish them.” She paused beside an old-fashioned Victrola and lovingly rubbed the rich wood. “I’d forgotten them until last night.” Was it only last night? It seemed as though weeks had passed since then.
She squared her shoulders and walked away from the living room, away from Arand. “We need to get to work. Jessica said there was a box of blessed salt in here.” She dug though the box and pulled out the salt. “We need to pour a line of this around the house.”
“Sabrina.” Arand was behind her without her even hearing him move. For a big man he was incredibly quiet and stealthy when he moved. He put his hands on her shoulders and tugged her back against his chest. She resisted for a moment before allowing herself to lean on him.
The memories of her granny, coupled with the fear of what was to come, were wearing her down. All she really wanted to do was crawl into bed and cover her head until this was over.
“You said we needed to stay alive for a day. Twenty-four hours, right?”
She felt the brush of Arand’s chin on the side of her head as he nodded. “Yes. From midnight to midnight.”
She glanced at her watch. “Great, it’s not quite eight in the morning. That’s a lot of hours.”
“I know.” His breath whispered against her ear, sending goose bumps rushing across her flesh. Now was not the time to become aroused, not that her body was paying any attention to that directive. No, her traitorous body was tingling, every nerve ending totally alive with anticipation. Maybe it was the fact she knew their lives were on the line that made her want to jump his bones so badly. Or maybe it was simply the man himself.
No, not man, but a shapeshifting warrior of great courage and loyalty.
He moved closer and there was no mistaking the hard thickness that pressed against her butt. Arand was aroused too. Damned if that didn’t send her already aroused libido into overdrive.
“Salt,” she reminded him.
He brushed a kiss against the side of her neck and she almost melted into a puddle on the spot. Her neck was one of her biggest erogenous zones. “I’ll take care of it.” It took her a second to realize he meant he’d take care of putting down the salt and not her sex-starved body.
“Okay. Yeah, that would be good.” She cleared her throat and stepped away. “I’m going to burn some of this incense and fix us something to eat.”
Arand watched her, his big body totally still, like a predator poised to pounce. His dark eyes seemed to penetrate her bravado and, for a brief second, she almost threw herself into his arms. Pride came to her rescue. No sense in learning to depend on a man who wasn’t going to stay. She was on her own, except for her girls, that is. She could always depend on them.
Determined to ignore Arand and the way he made her feel, she pulled out containers filled with muffins and croissants. There were also apples, bananas and a container of melon slices. Looked like Tilly had realized they wouldn’t want to take time to cook but would want fast, easy food. A small block of cheddar, a bottle of juice and several bottles of water rounded out their food stash.
Arand put his long, muscled arm around her and she sucked in a breath, but he was only reaching for the box of salt, not her. She swallowed her disappointment, telling herself she was glad, that this was no time to indulge in hanky-panky.
The door opened and closed, almost silently and she knew he was gone. The air was different and the space emptier without him. “Suck it up and get over it,” she told herself. She grabbed the incense burner and set it on one end of the kitchen table and lit it. The sweet aroma immediately filled the air. Sabrina blew on the end of the incense stick until a bright ember glowed.
She wandered over to the kitchen window and peered out into the encroaching swamp. She caught a glimpse of Arand, the muscles in his back rippling as he moved, pouring a thin line of salt around the house.
As though he felt her gaze on him, he turned and looked straight at her. She couldn’t look away, caught in his potent stare. It was he who looked away first, and he continued his trek around the house, pouring a steady
