Savage Angel by Stacy Gail

Author:Stacy Gail
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-08-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

It was amazing what a good massage and sleeping the clock around could do for a body. With a satisfied sigh, Sara stepped out of the shower on legs that could now support her without threatening to disappear. A quick toweling off and a slathering of ginger-flower-scented moisturizer, and she was almost human again.

Human. Her mouth tightened, and she could all but taste the irony as she reached for the hair dryer. The one thing she had never doubted was that she was a human being, with all the flaws and foibles that came along with it. How could she be anything else, when she had the daily human hassles of potential morning breath, split ends and monthly crabbiness to deal with? Not only had she never questioned it, she’d never given a thought to explaining it to someone outside the tightly knit world that was Lynchpin. Way back in her childhood she’d made the rock-solid, unwavering decision to allow no one in her life who didn’t already know the Savitch family secret, so explaining it had never been a cloud on her horizon.

So much for great plans hatched in the single digits of age.

All things considered though, Gideon seemed to be handling the strangeness that had dropped into his life like a pro. Or at least she thought he was, she reconsidered as she wrapped herself up in a silky black knee-length robe and headed carefully downstairs. While her brain had been baking away with all the fire she’d absorbed, it was possible her perceptions might have been off. At the time she’d been fairly comfortable he’d accepted her genetic oddities, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she’d been so out of it she’d missed the silent scream in his eyes. It could be he was still here simply out of a grudging obligation because she’d saved him from getting flash-fried.

No time like the present to find out. “Good morning.” The moment Sara entered the kitchen and saw Gideon’s wide back under a plain gray T-shirt, a smile bloomed without conscious thought. Then that impressive back stiffened, as if he’d been poked with a hot iron, and the smile trickled away. Maybe his acceptance really had been just a product of her feverish imagination. “Sorry I don’t have much food in the house. I’m not what you would call domestic. Every attempt I’ve made when it comes to cooking has been on the level of a Greek tragedy, so I pretty much live on candy, cereal and microwave popcorn.”

“Breakfast of champions, I’m sure. But if it’s all right with you, I’d like to try something different. How do you feel about French toast?”

Despite her bout of nerves, her mouth watered to the point of drooling. “Do I have ingredients for that?”

“You didn’t, but when I went to pick up some clothes, I also did a little shopping.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, and just as quickly away again as he fiddled with a skillet on the stovetop.

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