Summon Toren(30)
“Wow, you’ve got yourself one hell of a complex little lady.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Which part? Little, or lady.”
“Am I wearing a flowered dress and a bonnet? Do I look like a goddamn lady to you?”
“Very much.”
She was just getting deeper into his bullshit. “Okay, okay fine. You claim what you want but don’t think it’ll win you a damn thing, I’m not impressed with flattery, but muscle merit.”
“I’ve got your muscle.”
She couldn’t stifle the laugh, not because it was funny but because of how his words affected her right between her dad gum legs. “I don’t think you ever told me what it was you all did before you came here. Is freak circus in your job history?”
“You are amazing.” Slight exasperation accompanied the muttered words. “Why do I like this?”
Sam laughed outright. “That’s a damn good question.” But she couldn’t resist the good feeling bubbling inside her. Had to be cause the sun was shining and she was back to work keeping the ranch alive, if it wasn’t already dead. And now that she had real muscle to help her, well of course that was an answered prayer and something to be thrilled over.
CHAPTER TEN
Toren watched his sexy—yes, there was surely no other term for it—wife-to-be, fly up her house steps and race through the screen door on the front porch. He looked around, absorbing the breeze and letting his mercury read the air, seeking out supernatural particles. He’d used way too much power and was searching for signs of a backlash. He’d done it carefully, healing her body in small doses, every hour allowing his mercury properties to bind with the sickness whenever he checked her for fever. He only immobilized it so that her immune system could fight faster. Then he slowly set random pockets of resistance around the ranch to redirect the storm. Even with all his subtlety, he knew to never underestimate an enemy.
He kept close to Samantha’s heels. A little too close. She stopped abruptly and spun around and Toren nearly ran her over. He wrapped his arms around her to keep from plowing her to the floor. Toren had to overstep to break his stride and they ended like a dancing couple, her in a dip with him staring into her annoyed face.
“My God I was about to tell you to get off my damn heels before you run me over, guess I’m too late.”
Toren couldn’t hear her words around his erratic pulse. The urge to kiss her was unbearable. He pulled her up and her mouth to his. And God, he tasted her. She squealed as he vowed she was definitely worth whatever repercussions this would earn him. She shoved against his chest and he forced himself to pull up before his tongue went to work on hers.
“Everything okay here?”
Toren stood her on her feet and turned. He eyed the dark headed human male, his upper lip raising as his mercury sniffed the contagions he carried. The vile odor was the same one that made the little cabin nearly uninhabitable.
He put his hand on Sam’s stomach and moved her behind him, ready to kill in her defense if necessary. And judging by the waves of anger and distrust rolling off her, it might be necessary.
She shoved her way out of his protective hold and came to stand next to him. “What is your problem?” She slapped Toren’s arm and then looked at the man. “Hello Joe¸ glad to see you survived. How are the men?”
Toren watched the male’s eyes slide from her face to her hair then down over her body in a possessive manner that made Toren's blood thicken like it did before battle. “You look like hell.” The man's tone held a blatant disrespect.
“And you look like you’ve been trampled by rabid steers.”
The man ignored her sarcasm with ease. “I feel like it too.” He nodded at her hair. “At least you look more like an heir now.”
Toren felt Samantha’s chemical levels go from disgust to murder in a second, and his mercury itched to fuse with it and create a lethal weapon to impale the human with. It was part angelic instinct to put down wickedness in all its forms, no matter how subtle, but he especially wanted to impale the guy who’d hurt her. And this male had done far more than make a few nasty remarks. Toren needed to remember not to do anything rash or the demons he smelled all over the bastard would see through his shield. There was no getting around using human-like traits to accomplish those types of jobs for him.
But for the moment, he needed to convince Samantha that throwing the punch itching in her slender arm and fist wouldn’t serve a purpose other than his satisfaction. “I’m Toren.” He held a hand out, focusing on not measuring the man’s sins or anything else his angelic instincts would demand.