Domiel by Dawn McClure Read Free Book Online Page B

dog.
    He pulled the pan from the oven and made short work of slicing it up. He grabbed two plates from the cupboards and slid a few slices on each. Within minutes he had both their plates made up. Cooking, it would seem, wasn’t all that hard, he thought as he walked into the dining room. “Guess we’ll have to see how it…”
    He stopped. Kelsey was asleep sitting up. Her eyes were closed, her head resting heavily on her bent hand. For a moment, he considered flashing them to the plane, but he’d given her the promise of forty-eight hours. Ambrose was going to be livid when he didn’t bring her in right away, but he’d given his word. He set the plate down in front of her gently, trying not to startle her, but her body jerked and her eyes opened.
    “Why don’t you lie down?”
    She shook her head. “I’m good.” Her voice was husky with forgone sleep. “Wow, this actually looks edible.”
    “I’m not going to flash you back to the plane, Kelsey. You can rest. We have all day to sleep.”
    She rolled her shoulders and picked up a slice. “I can’t trust anyone right now, least of all you, rookie.”
    It should piss him off that she used that demeaning term again, and yet he couldn’t summon the energy to get mad at her. She’d been through a lot, and he didn’t envy the position she found herself in.
    Unfortunately for her, he was merely biding his time until her forty-five hours were up. No matter what he thought, or what emotions she stirred in him, she was rogue. He had no other option than to bring her back to the Alliance. He’d just have to wait until her time was up and then haul her ass in.
    He really hoped she was innocent and could prove it, or they were both screwed.
    Friendship didn’t matter when it came to the actions of immortals. If she was found guilty, the Alliance would have to eliminate the threat, no matter the individual.
    * * * *
    Silence sat in the room with them, a physical thing, making the barely audible ticking clock on the wall a marching band stomping through the living area.
    Her eyelids drooped every few minutes, forcing her to sit straighter in the chair to remain awake. A little nagging voice in her head warned if she fell asleep, Domiel would materialize her to the plane, and she’d be airborne within minutes. She couldn’t afford to go back yet. Then again, if she didn’t get any sleep, she doubted she’d even make it as far as the club. Catch-22s sucked.
    Domiel was sprawled out on the couch, looking comfortable and wide awake. She’d caught him staring at the family pictures over and over again as time stretched on. He seemed fascinated with them. She, on the other hand, didn’t want to gaze at pictures that depicted a pseudo-perfect family. There was no such thing.
    Dinner had settled in her stomach, making her full and content and all too vulnerable to the demon lounging in front of her.
    “What can I say to get you to go to sleep? We can’t do anything until tomorrow anyway.”
    She had the insane yet undeniable urge to go cuddle up with him on the couch. The bastard had taken off his shirt, and try as she might, her gaze kept wandering to those abs of his. She was a sucker for a six-pack of abs—especially on a demon. And considering demonic blood was like manna from Heaven, thick and delicious, wrapping it up in a muscled, demonic package was almost too much to resist. Her fangs started to push through her dry gums.
    Not happening. Get your mind off his abs. “I guess I could warn you that if you flash me to the plane I could take out the pilot with my powers. I’m not a fan of dying in a fiery crash, but you probably aren’t either, so that could work.”
    He shifted on the couch and crossed his ankles. “That creates a disturbing visual.”
    Her eyelids drooped again. What she wouldn’t give to be back at headquarters tucked in her bed before any of this had happened. “Yeah, I guess it would. That was the effect I was going for.”
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