Aflame. Krissy Daniels

Чтение книги онлайн.

      “Seriously? Hypnotic? Beautiful?” she asked, grumbling to no one. “Must be drunk.” She crammed the note and money into the pocket of her too-tight jeans.

      “Grayce.” A sharp stinging smack to her backside caused her to knock a half empty glass of beer to the floor. A flood of fury crashed down on her and everything turned red. The table, walls, people. Red.

      “What the fuck?” She turned to find a regular, Crazy Joe, as she liked to call him, dragging his tongue across a cracked lip and eyeing her up and down. Obviously inebriated enough to have forgotten she’d nearly broke his wrist last time he touched her, he swayed on unsteady legs and gave her a wink.

      “Darlin’, you are so gorgeous. Let me take you home tonight.” His slurred words were fuel to the fiery anger burning in her gut.

      Grayce straightened herself and jetted her chin up. “You fucking touch me again, I’ll kill you.”

      The man smiled and placed his hands on his hips. “Cock tease. Bitch. You know you want—”

      Before he could finish, Grayce’s fist met his jaw with such force that blood sprayed across the table and landed decoratively on the wall. Stunned, but too drunk to register pain, the man stumbled a step or two, then landed with a loud thud at her feet. Impressed with the strength she’d pulled out of nowhere, Grayce inspected her fist for damage. Nothing. Not a cut, bruise or even a red mark. As she surveyed the room, it was no shock to discover all eyes were on her. But she was surprised to find she was still seeing red—literally.

      After her shift, which ended moments after the ambulance carted away the drunk asshole, she grabbed a ride home with Georgia, who conveniently lived a few short blocks from Grayce’s apartment.

      “Your car in the shop again?” Georgia asked with her trademark sneer. The two had never been particularly fond of each other. Grayce didn’t make friends. Why bother? Being on the run wasn’t great grounds for nurturing relationships.

      “Yes.” Grayce rolled her eyes and lied. “She’s in the shop again.” She lacked the energy or patience to explain the truth. No way was she going to impose on Zander. So, it was take a taxi or accept Georgia’s offer for a ride home.

      “I met someone. Totally hot. Rich too.” Georgia waited for Grayce’s response. When it didn’t come, she continued. “Get this. He let me drive his Porsche. God, it was amazing.”

      “Uh-huh.” Did Georgia honestly believe she gave a fuck? Grayce nodded and pretended to listen as Georgia rambled. Man, that was the longest ride of her life.

      Her apartment was small and cozy. She loved coming home. Her stuff, her mess, her food. No one around to bark commands, tell her what to wear or what to eat. Bed made? No. Dirty dishes in the sink? Yes. They’d get washed when she was damned well good and ready. Hell would freeze over before anyone told her how to live again. Period.

      She locked the door, and not bothering to get undressed, headed straight to bed. Too fucking exhausted. The blankets were so warm and inviting she didn’t even get her second shoe kicked off before sleep consumed her.

      A very restless night ensued. Horrid dreams filled with visions of Tyr. His brooding face, fits of rage. His toys. Broken furniture, dishes. “You’re mine.” He stroked her cheek with long fingers.

      “Oh God. No!” Grayce woke tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Tyr dreams were few and far between, but when he did haunt her slumber, it put her in the foulest of moods. After a Tyr dream, it was best to stay home and clear of human contact.

      * * * *

      Grayce spent the morning hours and early afternoon curled up on her secondhand couch. Phone didn’t ring all day. Thank God. Wouldn’t have answered it anyway. By two in the afternoon her stomach growled loud enough to vibrate the sofa. It took some mental cheerleading but she finally forced herself to the kitchen for food. Hmm... Cereal or leftover nachos? She opted for nachos, cold, and settled back into her warm spot on the cushions. By three her ass was asleep and she was considering a shower when her cell buzzed. She wanted to ignore it. A nagging curiosity made her answer.

      “Yeah, what?” She snapped in her grouchiest don’t-fuck-with-me tone.

      “Good afternoon, Grayce. I hope it’s okay I’m calling you.” Shit. Zander.

      “Um, yes. It’s okay. How are you?” Embarrassed by the tremble of her voice, she stumbled to find words. What does one say to an uber-sexy superhero, anyway?

      His voice, deep, throaty and silky smooth, could probably melt the polar ice caps. “I’m sorry I left last night. It was my responsibility to get you home safe.” He paused to clear his throat. “Can I see you today?”

      Whoa, wait a minute cowboy, what? See me? Giddiness crept up her spine and took root in her brain. Grayce didn’t do giddy. “Me? Why?”

      A deep chuckle oozed its way through the phone into her ear, warming her down to her toes. “I would like to see you.”

      No. “Um, okay?”

      He let out a loud sigh of relief. “See you in a sec.”

      In a sec? No, not happening. Before she was able to formulate an escape plan, the doorbell rang. A quick peek in the mirror made her wish she’d showered, or at least brushed her hair. Not a pretty sight. Well, if he didn’t like the view, tough shit. At least her teeth were brushed.

      Of course, Zander looked glorious standing in her doorway. If he’d arrived sporting a halo and backed by a choir of angels, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Damn, he was radiant.

      To enter, he had to duck and turn sideways because he was so—massive.

      “Hi.” A whisper was all she could manage.

      “I need to know something.” The man exuded sex and power. Confidence, also. Something Grayce had always longed for.

      “What?” Awestricken, Grayce unconsciously took a step back from the mountain of masculinity invading her personal space. Dressed in military style cargo pants and a clingy black t-shirt, he could’ve jumped out of a kick-ass, shoot ‘em up video game, larger than humanly possible and able to survive even a nuclear attack. Fierce. Deadly. Determined.

      With the tap of his heel, the door slammed behind him. His gaze penetrated with such intensity, she froze, СКАЧАТЬ