Page 7

M adeline clung to Dom , her blanket on a frosty night. She wasn’t on Earth, a madman had abused her, and now she was in the arms of a self-proclaimed warrior good-guy.

Through a cloud break, she wide-eyed a structure below. Part of its foundation was embedded in a craggy mountainside. The rest of it dangled over the sea below. Its shape was rectangular with glass exterior walls held up by steel supports. Two side wood decks spilled onto green lawns with a third hanging out over the water. There was no roof. Nearer, she realized her mistake. There were no glass exterior walls either. The building was open to the air. Yet she could see interior walls that divided the home into rooms.

She squeezed her eyes tight, biting back a screech when they magically dropped through what should have been a roof and onto a stone-tile floor.

The room where they landed could have been a cold shrine, but scattered, colorful pillows and other decor saved it. In the middle was a fireplace, a marble giant rising from the floor to what should have been a ceiling. Rugs hung like artwork, decorating interior walls. Sculptures and pottery perched on stands and shelves. If this was Dominion’s place, it was incredible—magnificent. The feel was airy, modern, and elegant—a homey museum.

Her gaze continued its journey, interrupted when a figure landed near them in a rush of leathery bat wings.

Dom’s eyes flicked from Maddy to the new arrival and back again.

The woman cocked a fist on a hip and jutted out a fishnet-stockinged leg that ended in a short stiletto boot. A red bustier struggled to hold up her big boobs. She arched a brow as if Madeline were a surprise.

For some reason, Maddy felt a bit snippy. “Cleaning lady?”

“In a way,” said Dom.

Maddy studied the arrival, feeling a bit judgmental. In a comparison taste test, the woman won hands down. She had long, dark tresses, racetrack curves, and pouty lips. Yep . All in all, a femme fatale, most likely here to bag Dom for the evening. Instant dislike bloomed in every fiber of Maddy’s being.

Unsettling.

Strutting across the tiled floor, the woman loose-hipped her way toward Dom and Maddy. “You got us a threesome. How marvelous, love.”

“Not a good time, Mora.” Dom snarled as the femmes’ long, deep-red fingernails slithered down his arm. A possessive move.

Once he shook off his visitor’s touch, he set Madeline on the stone tiles. She winced from the painful cuts on the soles of her feet. Lifting one foot, she saw a bloody print on the floor.

So did the visitor. She licked her lips and smiled, flashing very sharp, bright white canines. “Yum,” she said, zeroing in on the blood. “Fresh.”

Maddy’s mouth slackened. Without thinking, she backed into Dom for protection from ... what? ... a vampire.

“Knock it off, Mora,” said Dom with a bit of force behind his warning.

The woman’s eyes swallowed Madeline, dirty toes to head. She blurted, “She’s breakable. A human. Couldn’t you find us a sturdier partner?”

Dom sighed. Holding up a palm, he gestured for his visitor in the red bustier to stay put. He scooped Madeline into his arms again, beelining through a door and into a bedroom. He continued to a connecting bathroom, where he set her on the counter, her legs dangling off the edge.

Still peeved, Maddy asked, “What about your guest?”

Dom rummaged through drawers. “Mora will wait.” Her winged savior whisked out a washcloth. Turning on the sink faucets, he wet it. While she stared at him, he cradled one of her heels in a palm, patting the dirty, bleeding sole until it was clean. When he blew on the cuts, she watched them knit together.

Madeline grabbed a foot, twisting it up to have a look-see, her irrational green-eyed monster forgetting about Mora. “Amazing.”

Dom dried off her feet and then grabbed her waist to help her stand.

Prying her gaze off the powerful assassin with the god-like body of ripped muscles not even a t-shirt could hide, she took in his lavish bathroom. A giant tub and an open shower with multiple shower heads on the ceiling and sides. “Nice.” A sumptuous modern spa.

When she spun toward the mirror, Madeline gasped. Still clutching her torn blouse, she combed the fingers of her free hand through her hair, getting them stuck in the snarls. She tried to wipe dirt off her cheek. Not happening. “What a mess! I need to clean up.”

“I’ll have clothes waiting for you.”

“You keep a supply of women’s clothing around your house?”

He drew his brows down as if her question was absurd. “No.”

When no other information was forthcoming, Madeline shrugged and asked, “A towel?”

Her rescuer pointed to a cabinet in the corner.

With two towels in hand, Madeline heated under Dom’s intense stare. Recovering, she bobbed her head toward the door.

He continued to thoroughly assess her body until he caught on to her gesture. “Oh. I need to leave.”

“Uh-huh. Tend to your company instead of ogling me.”

“I was sizing you up for a t-shirt and warm sweatpants.”

“That’s comforting because I don’t want what Ms. My-bustier’s-too-snug is wearing. You better get out there to her. She probably charges by the hour.”

Dom’s chin dropped to his chest, but when he lifted his head, he shot her a grin as if he knew she was neon-green with envy. He ambled toward the bathroom door, leaving her alone.

Maddy’s heart thumped against her ribs as she surveyed his firm retreating ass. He was over six-and-a-half feet of toned muscle with biceps and shoulders that threatened to rip his tee. Ebony hair trailed to his mid-back. And goddam wings. Beautiful black wings. Not bat ones. His front wasn’t bad, either. A spectacular chest. High, sculpted cheekbones. A single, vivid though cold, green eye. An ominous-looking patch over the other.

She cleared her throat. Why was she ogling the man? Praevus must have done something to lower her resistance when he rummaged around in her head. She didn’t normally pant like a dog in heat when she saw the bulky types. And she didn’t normally get jealous of other women.

For now, she’d ignore the unexpected fascination with her rescuer. Clean up. Deal with one problem at a time.

Loud voices from the other room faded when she turned on the shower faucets. A lover’s quarrel? She hoped she was the cause.

Oops. Another libidinous lapse.

Why the hell would she be jealous with a man she’d just met? An inhuman man with wings. Madeline sighed. Everything was unsettling. She couldn’t deal with these feelings now. So, she shoved them to the side to be examined later.

When she removed her dirty, torn clothes and stepped under the warm water, a long sigh escaped her lips. Pouring a large dollop of shampoo into her hand, she raised it to her nose.

Outside, Dom’s natural, delectable scent had woven itself around Madeline like fog. He was a hint of ocean spray, the aftermath of a storm, a mellow bourbon. But his bath product was odorless. It figured he would not use coconut-scented bath products.

She lathered twice.

Glancing at the shelf, she saw no conditioner. Oh, well. Soaping her palms, Madeline rubbed her hands over her body, watching dirt swirl down the drain. She still felt unclean. Eying a loofah, she chuckled. Even Immortals sloughed. Would he mind her using it?

Don’t care.

She soaped again and scrubbed off the lather.

Refreshed, Maddy turned off the faucets and stepped onto the rug outside the shower. Wrapping one towel around her, she used the other to dry her hair. Flinging her head forward, she shook out her clean locks. In the mirror, she finger-combed them, the shaggy chin-length cut falling into place.

No competition for Ms. Fishnet Stockings but presentable.

Damn . There it was again. The unexplainable smoldering heat of jealousy.

Maddy’s gaze scanned the bathroom. Body lotion? None on the counter. Opening the cabinets, she rearranged a few items that weren’t in order but found no moisturizer.

Then, because she was a neat freak, she folded her torn, filthy clothes and set them on a stool.

With the towel tucked above her breasts, she tiptoed to the door. Peeking out, she sprinted to the bed, which was large, fit for an orgy with Ms. Dangerous Curves and Friends. Dom had left a black t-shirt on the coverlet. No bra. She slipped the snug tee over her head, glancing down at her jiggling boobs. Next. No panties. She stepped into matching sweatpants. Since she refused to re-don dirty underwear, she’d have to endure the bounce. No shoes.

Madeline padded through the door toward the central room of Dom’s home, hoping she wouldn’t interrupt him entertaining his guest. She prepared to retreat if necessary.

Nope. Empty.

While she waited for Dom, she strolled to the far side of the house beyond the fireplace and onto the rear deck. No rails. Leaning forward, she peeked over a steep, craggy cliff that dropped to the water below. It was a long fall, but winged beings probably didn’t mind. Double moons still lit the sky until a thick mist crept in, obscuring the view.

Madeline pivoted. Dom, his bulky thighs encased in leather pants and his chest bulging in a tight black tee, stood frozen with two glasses of what looked like wine in his clutches. He cleared his throat, staring at her. His steps stuttered as he moved forward.

She tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Bigger would be better. And a bra.”

Setting the drinks on a low table, he snapped his fingers. Her shirt was a size larger. Fingering the neckline, she peeked down. A bra. “How did you do that?”

She lost any train of thought when a grin lit his face. “Practice.”

Nothing about this gorgeous man said he was safe. If she saw him skulking down a sidewalk in St. Louis, she’d cross to the other side. So why this heart-pounding reaction to a beefed-up thug?

She reminded herself that Mora had been comfortable dropping into his home. But the fanged woman had vanished. Unless he had her cuffed to a bedpost elsewhere. Perhaps Madeline had been too quick to judge. She could have been here to talk about an upcoming church social.

Yeah. No.

Dom was a category five hurricane in her otherwise orderly life, the poster boy for a dark fantasy, a hot Greek hero with strokable midnight hair and olive skin. A marble statue, tall with chiseled granite muscles. The total package screamed he could kiss or kill with no thought of consequences.

So why wasn’t she scared out of her mind? He had saved her, but for what? Would he return her to Earth? Or would she end up worshipping at his feet in her own fishnets and bustiers? Get a grip, girl. She finally asked, “Your visitor?”

He motioned Maddy to one of the pillows beside the table with the glasses. “Gone.”

“That was fast.”

“I’m quick.”

When Madeline laughed, he growled, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Hmm,” Madeline mumbled while she strolled around the room. Instead of settling on a pillow, she fingered a few sculptures and rearranged what looked like priceless items when their placement didn’t suit her.

“I didn’t ... entertain ... her.” Dom’s gruff voice faltered.

His gaze tracked her borderline rude behavior. Rather than react to her re-decorating, he snapped his fingers, causing flames in the fireplace to come alive, crackling and flickering. In an instant, she warmed.

Still not hurrying to sit, Madeline touched a smooth, white marble statue of a warrior holding a sword. Where would she shelve Dom if he were a book? In the 800s? Homer’s Iliad . The superhero Achilles, who had a flawed heel. What was Dom’s flaw?

Madeline paused her rearranging efforts to shake her head. Nope . Seeing him as a mythic hero was dangerous because Dom was bottled raw power, ready to explode. She could see that in his tense muscles. He was a train under full steam coming down a mountain. And given her unpredictable reaction to him, she was the damsel tied to the track.

But she’d learned she was an excellent judge of character. If you grew up around an alcoholic with vicious mood swings and unpredictable male drinking buddies, you learned to assess others with unerring accuracy. Dom may be dangerous, but not to her.

On Maddy’s trip to the pillows, the fireplace mantel distracted her. Disarray . Unable to stop, she re-grouped the vase, book, and candleholder on the right.

When she turned around, Dom arched a brow. “Better?”

Madeline stared at his luscious, full lips. His voice was deep but soothing, flowing across her skin like a breeze. She shook her head, unsure whether to clear it or answer the question.

Despite her odd desire for order or the many stereotypes about librarians, she wasn’t shy or quiet. In fact, her sisters often accused her of needing a plug for her mouth. “No, but I’m too tired for more. Nice artwork.”

“A friend collects this shit. When he gets overrun, he farms out his stuff. I have more stashed around the place. Shuffle what you want.”

Wow .

Free rein to feed her OCD. Madeline finally sank into a bright blue, silk-covered cushion, hoping she wouldn’t be in Angor long enough to take him up on the offer. But for now, she was practical. She’d evaluate the situation. Once she had the facts, she’d act. She had earned her safe, cautious, orderly life in St. Louis. She’d be damned if Praevus, Angor, or a dangerously gorgeous rescuer would steal it from her.

Fixing on Dom’s good eye and needing a distraction, she asked, “So, how do wings work with your shirt? Do you have holes in it?” Madeline patted her back.