Now that she’d washed up and was wearing clean, warm clothing, she felt much better. More in control again. Which was a fallacy really. Her life was so out of control it wasn’t funny. No one would ever believe her if she told them she was locked in mortal combat with the devil himself for her very soul. And that she also needed to buy fabric softener. They’d give her a pitying look and lock her up in a mental ward. And she wouldn’t blame them for it.
Sighing, she gave the room one final glance. All the soiled clothing had been dumped in the garbage or laundry basket, depending on if she thought it was salvageable. She hoped her favorite jeans came clean. She wasn’t sure if her laundry detergent was up to dealing with demon blood.
Not that it really mattered in the scheme of things. But it was normal, and God only knew she needed some normal in her life right now, even if it was only sorting laundry.
Her room looked the same as it always had. She’d made the bed and the drapes were pulled back, letting the sunlight wash over the gleaming hardwood floors. The book she was reading sat on her bedside table. She wondered if she’d get the opportunity to finish it.
But standing here wasting time wasn’t going to change anything. The problems still remained, and Aimee had to deal with them and with Roric.
It had taken some quick talking to make him leave long enough for her to get dressed. He’d insisted on waiting just inside the bathroom door while she’d grabbed another quick shower to wash away the blood and gore. She hadn’t objected. The last thing she wanted was to be taken unawares while she was in the shower. Knowing he was on the other side of the shower curtain had played havoc with her hormones. It didn’t seem to matter that demons from hell wanted to whoop her ass. She still wanted Roric.
She’d taken the fastest shower on record, soaping up and rinsing in under two minutes. A large bath towel had covered her decently, but there was no way she could get dressed with him in the room with her.
It was stupid really, considering he’d seen her totally naked more than once. But that was then. Now they were all business, neither of them really expecting to make it out of this day alive. At least she wasn’t expecting it. It was hard to know what Roric thought or felt about the situation.
She glanced toward the open door to her bedroom. He’d given her two minutes, and she knew he meant it. If she weren’t downstairs by then, he’d come and get her regardless of her state of dress or undress.
She did up the snap on her jeans and pulled on her hiking boots, lacing them tight before leaving her room without a backward glance. Her pocketknife was in her back pocket. Not that it would help much if another one or two or six of those creatures attacked. But it helped her not feel quite so defenseless. Her father’s old shotgun was downstairs in the hall closet, but she didn’t think it would do much to stop one of the demons. She’d have to ask Roric’s opinion.
The smell of burnt wood and fabric assailed her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The living room looked no better than it had earlier. It hurt her in ways she couldn’t explain to see it like that. She felt violated both on a physical and emotional level. This house had always been her safe place, her haven.
That feeling had been destroyed.
Her home had been tainted by demons, and that was something she wasn’t ever going to be able to forget. Yet she knew if she survived this, she would repair and remodel. To do otherwise would be to allow Hades to win. She had no choice. This was her home.
“I made coffee.” Roric’s voice yanked her out of her musings. He stood, tall and handsome as ever, in the kitchen doorway watching her. He was still shirtless. He’d somehow lost the black one during the fight. He’d probably ripped it off to give himself better mobility. The shirt had been tight across the shoulders. Still, she wished he’d find a new one to wear. All that bare flesh was giving her inappropriate ideas.
She brought her focus back to the conversation at hand. “You don’t like coffee.” She noticed that he’d taken one sip this morning and hadn’t drunk any more.
“You do.”
His thoughtful gesture touched her and she smiled. “Thanks.”
His lips twitched. “I don’t know if you should thank me or not until you taste it. I understand how modern machinery should work, but actually making it do so properly is another thing altogether. I wasn’t certain how much of the coffee to put in the filter.”
Aimee stared at him, unable to tear her gaze away from the slight twinkle in his eyes. At this moment, she envied him. Roric lived in the minute, had the rare ability to be in the now. You’d never know he’d just fought and killed three demons. Four, if you counted hers. And she didn’t really. He’d been mostly dead by the time Roric arrived. Still, three and a half demons was quite the feat.