I’d seen the aloe vera’s reaction near my bedpost; the poor plant had nearly crashed to the ground in effort to lean toward the siren’s smile.
I really didn’t blame the plant.
He was pretty, in an inexplicable way; if you looked at each individual attribute, he was almost too pretty. But put them together, and suddenly you wondered if it was possible to keep yourself from blinking — because those seconds were seconds you had to take your eyes off perfection, and it seemed unfair, so ridiculously unfair.
The sound of heavy footsteps filled the room. I moved into a sitting position, fully expecting the angel to come crashing in.
The doorknob twisted.
And my breath hitched as the shaggy brown-haired man took one booted step into the guest room.
Completely shirtless.
In low slung jeans with more holes than fabric.
And flip-flops that had seen better days.
His wild brown hair fell just past his chin. Pieces of dark brown and orange intertwined around larger pieces of chocolate brown.
He looked like a fall drink at Starbucks.
Hot. Comforting. Yet dangerous if spilled or sipped too soon.
He was a tall dark order of pumpkin spice.
I licked my lips and forced my eyes away from his face as he slowly made his way toward the bed.
My heart picked up speed, as if it were trying to warn me we were in danger.
But the only danger I saw was embarrassment. I’d been badly attacked.
I had bruises all over my body.
And even though the bleeding had stopped a day ago, I had bites that would scar.
And I had absolutely no recollection of why I’d been walking by myself down that abandoned road in the first place.
Except that he’d been crying.
Again.
And I’d needed to find him.
I had the same nightmare every year.
And every year I searched for the source of the tears.
By stupidly walking in the dark wherever my heart led me.
MASON
Bruises marred her cheekbones. Bite marks created tiny tracks all the way down her arms, scattering across her fingers like tiny little freckles.
The purplish tone to them told me they were healing. At least they wouldn’t scar.
She was too pretty to scar.
Or at least from what I could see.