Why she'd uttered a spell in a different language, which brought this being into her house, she had no idea. It was a stupid blunder on her part, and far beyond anything she had done before.
She gathered her courage and focused on the energy emanating from the Earth surrounding her. The natural energy provided the fuel she needed for her words to take on a greater power. "Tainted words escaped, a bad mistake, to make it right—"
"No!"
Her head snapped up at the rough command torn from the man's throat. She hit the back of her head against the wall.
The man pushed himself up, and if it was at all possible, he seemed larger. His long, blond hair fell around his face, shielding his features. The light from her bedroom danced along the contours of the muscles in his back as he slowly twisted to face her.
"Listen," she said, running a hand over the back of her head to ease the ache. "I'm sorry I snatched you from wherever you were, but I'll send you back."
She took a deep breath and began her spell again. "Tainted words escaped, a bad mista—"
"No," he growled, rising to snatch the book from her hands. For someone so close to death, he sure could move his ass when provoked. One second he was three feet away, moaning and in obvious pain, the next he was on her like a deranged madman. She yelped, scrambling away from him. He made it quite difficult when he grabbed her by her hair.
He flipped her onto her back and yanked the book from her hands, displaying strength and speed beyond that of a human.
With the book in hand he fell against the same wall she had just launched herself from. His hair was still a tangled mess around his face, reminding her of a wild animal. He was gasping for breath and holding his side.
"No. Going back. No."
Whispering those few words seemed to tap whatever strength he had left. He began to writhe against the wall, clutching his chest while straining against some unseen force.
She wasn't in the business of killing people. She crawled to him, her fear of him diminishing in light of her fear for him. She couldn't let him die. This was her fault. By performing a spell she hadn't understood, she had created this problem for him. It was her duty to fix it.
She held her hand just out of reach of his body, for the first time realizing how physically perfect he was. Absolutely perfect.
His jaw, barely visible underneath his golden hair, was square and smooth. Full lips pulled back to reveal perfect teeth, white and even. His shoulders were rounded with muscle, arms and chest ripped.
He couldn't be from too far in the past, because the man obviously liked to get waxed. Other than the hair on his head, and the bit at his, ahem, he was bare and golden, if not a bit flushed. The muscles on his body were taut, perfectly sculpted, not a bulging vein to be seen. He had very few blemishes on his skin. Those she saw looked like blisters.
She slowly reached out, as one would to a stray dog, placing a reluctant hand on his chest. His skin was scalding. She snatched her hand away, forced to withdraw before she burned herself. Leaning forward, she noted the blisters were forming, then in the blink of an eye they were healing.
Oh my God…
She had never wanted to hurt anyone with her spells. In fact, she had always tried to help others with her knowledge. It made her sick to think she may be the cause of the man's pain.
She had no choice but to help him. "Hold on. I'll be right back."
She ran down the hall and flipped the light switch on in her kitchen. Stumbling to the oven, she ripped off the dishtowel hanging on the handle. Trying to control her shaking, she told herself this problem would work itself out. The man would be okay. He had to be.
She took the towel to the sink and wet it with cold water. This was all her fault. What business did she have casting spells? None.
Twisting the towel, she wrung out the excess water and turned to run back into the hallway.
He was now sitting up, no longer writhing in pain, his head back against the wall and his eyes closed. His hair had fallen back, revealing his face. The muscles in his jaw were clenched. He had to be struggling against some serious pain.
She knelt in front of him and put the towel against his chest. He sucked in his breath and grabbed her wrist, causing her to stumble forward onto his lap, their faces only inches apart. He opened his eyes and looked at her for the first time.
His eyes were black. Liquid tar. No whites, no color, just one big, dark pool of black.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
She opened her mouth but the only thing that came out was a squeak. The hand holding her wrist was burning her. Everywhere her skin touched his she burned.
Her mind could process only one thing—she'd summoned a demon.