Otherworld Protector. Jane Godman

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      Stella glanced over her shoulder. “This is a joke, right? It’s a reality TV show or something. Any minute now someone will jump out with a microphone and we’ll all laugh about how I fell for this.”

      “You know that isn’t going to happen.”

      She sighed. “If I hadn’t known you all my life, I might have been able to convince myself this was some sort of prank. Unfortunately for me, you exude your own mystical gravitas. So this mystery person who sent a gargoyle after me is the grave danger you’ve come to warn me about?”

      He shook his head slowly. “I can deal with gargoyles. They’re a nuisance, but easy to put back in their box. I can also take out whoever sent it.” The declaration should have sounded macho and boastful, but it didn’t. On Cal’s lips, it was a simple statement of fact. “But there is a very powerful being who wants you, Stella. This is one thing I am totally sure of. He wants you very badly and he is known for his determination. You must be on your guard.”

      “And this being is...?”

      “The king of the faeries.”

      “I’m guessing we’re not talking pretty little winged creatures who live at the bottom of the garden.”

      Cal shook his head. “This isn’t a child’s fairy tale. Faeries are ancient beings of wonder and enchantment. They have great physical beauty while they bring dire peril in their wake. Their power for destruction is enormous.”

      “So how will I recognize the king of the faeries when he comes for me?”

      “You already know him.” Stella had a sudden and overpowering premonition that she did not want to hear Cal’s next words. He said them anyway. “His name is Moncoya.”

      * * *

      Steam swirled around Stella and she exulted in the sensation, allowing the water to play over her aching shoulders. Too much time hunched close to a computer screen left her with a crick in her neck that felt as if it was here to stay. After several minutes of soothing warmth, she turned the shower to cool. The Spanish evening was still and sultry. It felt as if there should be sangria and flamenco guitar awaiting her, not a laptop and a pizza. Stepping from the shower, she wrapped herself in one towel and dried her hair with another. When she emerged from the bathroom, she was startled to find Cal sitting on her bed. He was wearing only a pair of ancient cutoff jeans, and the sight of his golden torso did something unmentionable to her insides.

      “I suppose I should be glad you stayed out here,” she said, disguising her inappropriate reaction with sarcasm.

      “I promise never to join you in the shower.” His gaze swept over her body, registering the fact that she was wearing nothing but a thigh-skimming towel. The corner of his mouth lifted in appreciative acknowledgment. “Not without an invitation anyway.”

      The smile was almost irresistible. Almost. The memory of their last encounter was still fresh in Stella’s mind, however. Gargoyles and faeries and supernatural threats to her safety. It was all very well having a personal bodyguard—and, it really, really helped that hers was so gorgeous—but she wasn’t going to be drawn into all the weird stuff. She had told him as much down at the beach. It seemed he had not got the message.

      “I’d like to get dressed.” She maintained a dignified tone.

      “Pretend I’m not here.” Cal turned his back.

      It was on the tip of Stella’s tongue to order him out of her room, when it occurred to her that she wouldn’t know if he’d actually gone. It was probably better to have him here, where she could see that glorious expanse of tanned, muscled back while she threw on her shorts and top, than send him away.

      “Are you my guardian angel?”

      Stella threw herself down on the bed, lying on her back, with her hands laced behind her head. The room was furnished in a traditional Spanish style with walls that were painted in warm, soothing terra-cotta tones. The floor tiles were a mosaic of blue and gold, and carved, dark wood furniture lined the room. A ceiling fan made lazy circles above her head. Cal seemed to debate joining her and then sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, stretching his long legs in front of him. From the angle she had chosen, all Stella could actually see of him now was the lower half of his legs and his bare feet. Just as she decided he wasn’t going to answer the question, he spoke.

      “It’s hard for me to answer that because the concept of a guardian angel has been created by humans. Mortals have built a set of rules around something they do not understand because they want to be able to explain it.”

      Stella threw a cushion in his general direction. “Answer the bloody question.”

      The cushion flew back at her. “In my experience, mortals don’t like it when the response is not what they want to hear.”

      Tired of not being able to see him, she moved to the other end of the bed and lay on her stomach so that her face was only inches from his. “Are you being enigmatic to annoy me or are you trying to tell me I’ve got the terminology wrong?”

      “Both.”

      He grinned and Stella watched in fascination as a dimple danced at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought about, never having been able to get close to him before, but Cal did not conform to the blueprint of physical perfection that should surely be a prerequisite for an angel. It was those minor imperfections—the gap between his front teeth that was a fraction too wide, the tiny star-shaped scar at the corner of his right eye, the unruly lock of hair flopping onto his forehead, the golden-brown stubble—that made him such a stunning-looking man. And that in itself was surely wrong. Weren’t angels meant to be asexual? But, if what he was saying was correct, she needed to unlearn everything she thought she knew about angels.

      She linked her hands together and propped her chin on them, enjoying being close to him. It was a strange sensation, like getting to know someone she had been acquainted with all her life. Or coming face-to-face with a pen pal in whom she had confided her most intimate secrets. Getting to know him? Who was she trying to fool? She’d stored up the memory of his face ever since that long-ago moonlit night. Wasn’t falling for your guardian angel forbidden? She frowned, trying to remember the results from the time she’d searched the internet for it. She was fairly sure horrible things would happen to heaven and earth if an angel and a mortal ever made love. Unless that bit wasn’t true? Her heart gave a hopeful little skip. Getting a bit ahead of yourself, Stella, she told herself firmly.

      “Are you all right?” Cal’s voice brought her back to reality. “You’ve gone very red.”

      “It’s what we humans do in the heat. I did a lot of research about guardian angels. I did it so I would know all about you. Are you telling me it was all wrong?”

      She thought the look in the depths of his shimmering eyes became guarded. The laughter and teasing were gone. “Some of it almost certainly was.” His voice was colorless. “Guardian angel or not, can we do what I came here for? Can we talk about how I intend to keep you safe from Moncoya?”

      Stella sat up abruptly. “Not this again.”

      “Yes, this again.” Cal reached out a hand, but she evaded him.

      “I need a cold drink.” Slipping from the bed without another word, Stella left the room and made her way down the stairs.

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