"Finish him. I'll get the female," the one she assumed was the leader said.
The taller demon came after her and she ran. Reese heard gunshots as she bashed one galla in the head and turned to come face to face with a human. At least that's what she thought until he spoke.
"You've been a nasty piece of business, I must say," he sneered. "Now we're through and you're coming with me."
The vicious glint in his eyes sent a sliver of fear clattering through her. The stench from his mouth made her want to gag. "I don't think so."
Dagan leapt onto the porch. The smell of gunpowder and the loud report of the guns filled the night as he rapidly fired into the demon's body. It dropped to its knees and glared at Dagan.
"Tell your boss I'll be seeing him soon," Dagan promised.
The evil being hissed and melted away. He could have given the Wicked Witch of the West a run for her money in the melting department.
Dagan retrieved his sword and sheathed it. He strode toward her wearing a deep frown. She stared at the blackened remnants on the porch, door and side of the house which were fading as night fell.
"The next time I tell you to run, run, dammit."
Her gaze snapped to him. "You're not my keeper."
His intense stare locked on her. "You need a keeper."
Reese straightened and glared at him, a fist of anger returning. "They deserved it." She narrowed her eyes on him. "You deserved it too."
"Come on." Dagan grabbed her arm, pulled her inside, closed and locked the door.
She marched over to the pantry and pulled out a broom.
"What are you doing?"
Memories of what had just happened tap danced on her psyche, memories she shouldn't have—no one should have. "I'm going to sweep that rubbish off my porch." Her hands were shaking.
"Not tonight."
"I don't suppose you'd leave?"
Moving to her he said, "Not gonna happen."
Instantly, Reese dropped the broom and started slapping at the front of her shirt. Her eyes grew wider. "My chest is burning."
"Dammit." His bright green eyes turned black as the night. He tore off Rufus's coat, grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. Her body trembled.
Tossing the smoldering shirt into the sink, Dagan picked Reese up and ran to the bathroom. He set her into the bathtub, turned on the water, tossed his holster, sheaths for his knives and stars off, then stepped in with her.
Pushing her under the spray, he silently lathered his hands with the soap and began massaging her chest, arms, and down her stomach. "The galla's blood is like acid."
He turned her around to rinse the soap off and undid her bra. "When I shot the last one some of its blood must have gotten on your clothes. That's why it burned."
Again, he lathered his hands and soaped her back, shoulders and arms. He threw the soggy bra on
the floor and gently unbuttoned her pants and drew them down her wet legs and tossed everything into a heap. "Let me look at you, to make sure your skin is undamaged."
He turned her to face him and brushed callused hands over her skin. "Just a little redness. It didn't get all the way through your shirt enough to burn your skin, but let's wash you one more time to be sure."
She nodded but didn't speak.
He rubbed suds along her throat to her collarbone and her breasts. She couldn't hold the whimper that escaped her parted lips. The water trickled down the front of her body washing the suds away.
Reese opened her eyes, and for the first time since he'd lifted her into the tub, noticed the bloodstained rip in his shirt, the cuts on his lip and over his right eye, and a slash across his left forearm. "You're hurt."
She gently shoved his hand away.
"It's nothing."
"That thing's blood got on you, too." She slid the long-sleeved shirt down and pulled the T-shirt underneath up his arms and off, letting it drop as she examined his skin.
On his right forearm was a tattoo that looked like a starburst. A nasty, jagged, bright red mark cut across his right shoulder and down his chest to his left hip. It looked like a strip of sunburn. "Does it hurt?"
"No."
He lied, it had to hurt. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Reese danced her fingertips down his stomach.
His muscles contracted.
"It will heal quickly," he said through gritted teeth. His hands fisted at his sides.
Her fingers brushed the enormous bulge in his pants and he growled. Her eyes snapped to his battered face certain she'd find him smirking, but he stared unblinking at the wall and his tight jaw clenched.