“Ah… yeah. It’s mine.” Revenant sank down on the bed and pulled four foam boxes out of the bag, plus napkins and plastic utensils. “There’s smoked ribs, saucy meatballs, and chops.”
“Not one for vegetables, huh?”
He opened the last box to reveal crisp, golden fries. “Voilà. Vegetables.”
“As a physician, I’m going to throw down a bullshit flag on that one.” Carefully setting aside the feather, she reached for the box full of charred ribs, but pulled her hand back at the last second. “Dare I ask what kind of meat this is?”
He rolled one broad shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Dunno. How strong is your stomach?”
She had a feeling he was teasing, but she wasn’t going to test that theory. She poked a meatball with a plastic fork and gobbled the thing down in two bites. Next, she put a hurting on the ribs, not caring that Revenant was watching her with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
“What?” she mumbled through a mouthful of fries. “Never seen anyone eat before?”
“I like watching you eat. I’d have liked to cook the food myself, but I didn’t want to leave you alone while I went hunting.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she said, even as she wondered how often he cooked for females. “But I’m definitely not going to ask what you would have gone hunting for.”
“That’s probably wise.”
They finished eating in surprisingly comfortable silence, and when she was done, Revenant disappeared into the bathroom. He returned with a wet washcloth and stunned her into silence when he very tenderly wiped her face, dabbing beneath her eyes with the greatest of care. Then he moved on to her mouth and hands, catching every bit of sticky sauce and fry grease.
She had a feeling he’d tended to someone like this before. It was hard to imagine that this big, bad Shadow Angel could be so gentle and caring.
As he finished up, she covered his hand in hers. “Who was she?”
He knew what she meant, and shadows flitted in his eyes. “My mother,” he said quietly.
And then, as if he’d gotten a shock stick rammed up his ass, he shoved to his feet and tossed the washcloth in a corner pile of clothes. He yanked a black Guns N’ Roses T-shirt out of his drawer and handed it to her.
“I don’t have any underwear that’ll fit you, but I think I have a pair of sweats that’ll work if you cinch up the waist. You know, a lot.”
“It’s okay. I can wear my scrubs. I should be going anyway.”
“Where? Back to the hospital where you just got suspended?”
His words stung… because he was right. Her life was spiraling out of control, and the suspension had been the last straw. Angels were after her, her False Angel enchantment was wearing off, her mother was missing, and she’d lost her job. Then she’d had amazing sex with Revenant that had felt anything but casual.
Her emotions were frayed, but for some reason, here in Revenant’s lair, it was easy to let all of that go.
“Revenant? Why did you bring me here?”
“You were upset.” He gathered up the boxes and trash and shoved it all into the bag it had come in. “You needed to be safe. This is the safest place for you to be.”
“But why? I was safe at the hospital, too.”
“It’s a… rule.”
She climbed out of bed and started to dress. “A rule?”
He nodded. “When a female is in distress, you tend to her.” He appeared to consider what he’d just said. “Unless she tries to kill you. At that point, she’s fair game.”
Blaspheme slipped into her scrub pants. What was it with him and rules? He’d gotten himself worked up about her no-touching directive the first time they’d had sex. At the time, she’d thought it was weird, but she’d written it off as Revenant not wanting to give up control. But it seemed that this was something very, very different.
“So… you follow every rule?”
“Rules exist for a reason,” he said gruffly, as if she shouldn’t question it.
“What if they’re stupid?”
“It doesn’t matter. If it’s a law, it’s law.”
She rolled her eyes as she shrugged into her scrub top. “I read once that there’s a law somewhere in California that says you can’t dust furniture with dirty underwear. Are you telling me that you think people should be arrested for dusting their furniture with worn skivvies?”
“No. That’s a moronic law, and people shouldn’t go to jail for that.” At her triumphant grin, he held up his hand. “But if it is, in fact, a law, people shouldn’t get pissed for being arrested because they broke it. Stupid or not, it’s the law.” He pressed on the wall, and a hidden panel slid out of the way, opening up his bedroom to an outdoor forest of gnarled trees and funky bushes with thorns as large as her hand. “But straight up, I’d kill anyone who rubbed their skanky underwear on my furniture. Fucking nasty.”