Sins of the Soul by Eve Silver

Author:Eve Silver
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Paranormal Romance
ISBN: 9780373774838
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2010-09-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“BACK OFF.” SHE SHOVED hard against his chest.

She was breathing hard and avoiding his gaze. Alastor figured that unless he wanted all-out war, he’d be wise to do exactly as she asked. So he stepped back and let her go, though the primitive thing inside him was writhing against the restraint. He wanted her. She wanted him. Simplicity itself.

“You’re making things complicated,” he murmured.

“This isn’t—” She broke off, shook her head.

He wanted to push, to demand capitulation, but he had a feeling that with Naphré, patience would serve him better.

She shot a glance through the archway into the living room, made a show of sniffing the air and wrinkling her nose.

“I smell like puke,” she said, her tone flat. She didn’t, but as far as excuses went, it was innovative. “She got me when she hurled in the car. I need a shower.” She jerked her head toward the woman sleeping on the couch. “You get to stay here and play nursemaid if she wakes up. There’s a bucket under the sink in the kitchen. If she throws up again, it better be into that, or you’ll be the one mopping the floor.”

“According to whom?”

Ducking around him, she headed for the stairs. With her hand on the banister, she paused, head bowed, shoulders tight.

“According to me,” she said without looking back.

And she clearly believed she could enforce her threat. It was a novel experience, having a woman treat him as an equal. Not a coddled son or brother. Not a knight or savior. Not a threat. Exactly as an equal. He couldn’t think of a time in his life where that had ever happened before.

Then she bolted up the stairs, her slippers slapping wood.

Alastor stepped forward and watched her gorgeous, round arse sway, appreciating the view. Then she was gone, and a moment later, the sound of running water carried down to him.

He fought the urge to follow her.

Naphré Kurata was a conundrum. She was a Topworld assassin who double-tapped without blinking, but she caved under a single kiss. Bloody fascinating.

Making his way along the hall, Alastor discovered a powder room beneath the stairs. He assessed his clothing and was pleased to note that it was spatter-free. There were a few scorched holes at the shoulder, as well as a long, narrow rent on the left sleeve where the first bullet had winged him, and a hole in the back to the right of midline. His white shirt was bloodstained. His arm was gouged. His right side striped where the second bullet had taken out a chunk.

Overall, he had fared well.

And the burns he’d sustained when his father incinerated the centipedes were almost gone now. Rapid healing was one of the benefits of being Sutekh’s son. Getting the wounds in the first place was one of the downsides.

He used a damp tissue to wipe his shoes clean. Not vomit. Water stains from the puddles. Still, they were ruined.

As he tossed the tissue in the trash and washed his hands and then his bullet wounds, he recalled the look on Naphré’s face as she’d stared at his shoes.

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