Bound to His Redemption Read online

  Would her stranger be waiting to go home with her? Though she couldn’t see a hint of him, she somehow knew he was out there.

  Just waiting and watching.

  He seemed the type that would be good at that. The way he’d slunk away before the police had arrived proved that. It’d been a move worthy of being in the best spy movies. He’d all but melted into the night. Or maybe a better likening was that he blended into the darkness, surrounded as he was by it already. And not only the physical darkness of night — it was the pitch-blackness of a soul capable of great crimes but also of feeling great torment.

  Her head pounded at the mere thought. That pain, along with the anxiety and tiredness strumming throughout her veins, made a lethal dose of tension that wound her up tighter than a yoyo.

  The remembrance of her near-rape didn’t help, either. Even now, the man’s phantom hands touched her, making her cringe. She took a deep breath. It was over. There was nothing more to worry about, at least with regards to the drunk. The police had taken him into custody and called an ambulance to check him over. Her stranger had delivered some nasty kicks and more than likely bruised, or even broken, a couple of his ribs. Though she disliked violence, she couldn’t deny a sense of justice over her attacker’s injuries.

  Police Officer Benemore looked up from his laptop and cleared his throat. When she looked his way, he gave her a reassuring smile, his young face falling into sympathetic yet professional lines before he spoke. “Well, I believe that’s it. If we have any more questions — or the detectives do — we’ll give you a call. We’ll also keep you updated on the hearing, though you shouldn’t have to attend it. From there, we’ll play it by ear. If he pleads guilty, it should be pretty straightforward. As for your dog, we’ll keep an eye out for him, but I suspect someone will turn him into the animal shelter in a few days. That’s if he hasn’t already returned to your apartment building.”

  Caralyn nodded, her hand already on the door handle. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like a ride home?”

  The breath stilled in her lungs. Could she take him up on his offer? Did she dare? She scolded herself. Here was her chance to get away from the dark stranger, and she wasn’t taking it?

  A tapping at the window startled her so much that she jumped forward in her seat as she glanced out the side window. Her left elbow rammed into the console in front of her, and tears sprang up in her eyes. But she ignored the agony shooting up and down her arm in favor of staring at her stranger, who was standing right outside the vehicle.

  “Do you know him?” Police Officer Benemore asked, his voice sounding on-guard.

  Caralyn licked suddenly dry lips and looked back at the sandy-haired police officer. “Y ... yes.”

  “Why is he here?”

  Her mind spun uselessly for a few seconds. “I ... I, uh, called him after ... He’s a good friend of mine.”

  “He wouldn’t happen to be the same person who beat up your attacker, would he?”

  “Oh, no, no. That was a stranger. My friend is here to see me home.”

  “If that’s the case, I’m sure you won’t mind if —”

  The police officer’s scanner went off, and he listened intently to it before glancing at her.

  “Looks like I have another place to be. Your friend can take you home?”

  Saved by the scanner. “Yes, thank you.”

  Without a further second going by, she let herself out of the vehicle. Thankfully, her stranger had retreated into the darkness a bit, so maybe the officer wouldn’t notice his medieval-type garb.

  Luck was on her side, and the policeman didn’t spare another glance her way once she’d left his vehicle. Hopefully, he’d totally forget about her friend’s sudden appearance and not have further questions about it later.

  As soon as the SUV was a few blocks down the street, she turned to her stranger only to find him right behind her. How had he snuck up on her so quietly? He really was in stealth mode, just like a spy would be. Though he stood less than a foot away, the closeness didn’t seem to disturb him, so why was her heartbeat going all wonky? She moved back a few feet.

  Caralyn opened her mouth to say they should go look for Archie, but the words lodged in her throat. There, next to the stranger’s left leg, was her runaway pet. Archie sniffed at the sidewalk as if he didn’t have a care in the world. And he didn’t, though he’d nearly led her into disaster tonight. Now the dog had turned traitor and remained at her rescuer’s side.

  An absurd idea hit her, and a hysterical giggle nearly bubbled out of her. After the evening she’d had, she was still calling him the stranger? If he was going to be living with her for an indefinite amount of time, shouldn’t she find out his name? His species?

  He waved an imperious hand. “Let us go.”

  His attitude grated, but suddenly she was too tired to argue or care. “Fine.” She just wanted to go home, fall into bed, and forget this whole night for a while, but the person before her made that impossible.

  She led him down Ashburn Street at a quick clip while still being careful of icy spots on the snow-slicked sidewalks, and wished the ten-minute walk would magically shorten itself into a two-minute one. His stride matched hers, and his presence at her side enveloped her like a disorienting, heady mist. It made her already spinning head feel like it was going to twirl off into the sky.

  All was quiet except for the splat of their footsteps, though hers were much louder than his. The cold bit at her lungs, and she raised a hand to her mouth and nose so she could warm the air for just a bit. Christmas lights twinkled around them on the street lamps and from businesses and homes all decked out for the season. But they were sorry company when all she wanted was to be aware of him.

  Though he walked close enough that his elbow should’ve bumped hers occasionally, he kept a measured distance between them at all times. His gaze remained fixed ahead of them, and he was doing a great job of ignoring her. He seemed so in control on the surface but underneath simmered ... No, she wasn’t going there. He’d already inserted himself into her evening, so thoughts of him weren’t going to take over her brain.

  A big truck rumbled down the street toward them. Her stranger flinched, nearly stumbling into her before he righted himself at the last second. Hmm, curious. Was he not used to such things, or was it this particular vehicle? When a car rolled by moments later, she had her answer. It was all vehicles. Instinctively, she knew it’d embarrass him if she mentioned the incidence, so she stayed quiet.

  Their breath puffed out into the frigid air and made little clouds. At least he breathed like a normal person — a human — would, though she was pretty sure he was anything but.

  She slid a glance at her dog and frowned. Archie walked next to her rescuer. How could her dog prefer him to her? The tall male was her ... he was her what? Her blackmailer? He seemed indefinable. There were so many names she could call him by, but none fully encompassed him. She needed to find out what his name was. He couldn’t be her stranger forever.

  “What is your name?

  “Why do you ask?” he asked, still not looking at her.

  Really? “Since you’re going to be staying with me, I think I should know that information, don’t you?”

  He grunted. “If you must.”

  “I do insist,” she said with much more firmness than she felt.

  “I am Eamon.”

  His name fit him. It had the ring of a handsome, not-totally-evil villain. Still ... “That’s it? No last name or any other ones you go by?”

  “None that I’d want to tell you.”

  Okay, moving right along. “My name is Caralyn. Caralyn Alberts.”

  He finally turned his head toward her, but the hood of his cloak cast his face in shadow. “I’ve never heard of such a name.”

  “Well, I could say the same for Eamon.” His name rolled off her tongue like a decadent dark chocolate — addictive in small quantities and best partaken of in the same sparse amounts. She shive
red, though not from the cold. If his name alone could do this to her, what could his touch, his kiss, do?

  Since he was talking, she decided to further test the waters of his openness. “Archie seems to have taken quite a liking to you.”

  “I presume you mean your mongrel?”

  “Yes, but he’s a Labrador retriever, not a mongrel, though I wouldn’t love him any less if he were.”

  He snorted. “How commendable of you. But regardless of your sentiments, I’ve indeed sunk low if a dog has consented to be my friend.”

  “What’s wrong with a dog’s friendship? They’re often more loyal than people.”

  “Maybe so, but you cannot manipulate an animal in the same way you can people. Nor would the rewards be the same.”

  She frowned at him. “That’s a very depressing outlook to have.” And lonely, no doubt.

  “It’s a realistic one if you want to retain your power and remain alive.”

  Just who and what was he? “I don’t play those kinds of head games, and since I’m not in politics or big business, so I don’t need those ... skills.” And she was heartily glad of that fact if the being standing by her had been shaped by such influences.

  When her apartment building came into view, she let out a happy sigh. Home at last. Now hopefully she could get him settled in with a minimum of fuss. That dampened some of her contentment.

  She opened the glass door to the front entrance, and Archie bounded in front of her, his energy never flagging. He sniffed at the chairs in the small lounge room while she waited for Eamon to come in.

  As the light from the foyer spilled over onto Eamon, invisible bands tightened around her chest. His full, sensual lips were drawn into a thin line, but something uncertain and vulnerable flickered in his eyes before it melted into the cold marble mask overtaking his face.

  His gaze ghosted over her. “How quaint.”

  Did he mean the lounge or her? Shrugging off what was probably an implied insult, she pulled on Archie’s leash to get him moving. When they reached the stairwell that was right next to the elevator, she paused.

  Though she loved living in a newer building that allowed pets and had a reliable elevator, she’d bet her last piece of apple pie that Eamon wouldn’t care for that modern marvel, if his reaction to vehicles were any indication.

  Stairs it was. She didn’t need a major freak-out from a being that probably wasn’t human — and one she didn’t know the capabilities of.

  After opening the heavy metal door to the stairs, she shooed Archie in. Luckily, he didn’t mind climbing them, but when doing so, he always displayed a cautiousness that made her smile. That quality wasn’t something she usually saw in her brash dog, but she wasn’t going to complain. A Lab tumbling down the stairs and using her as a cushion against the fall was something she could live without.

  She glanced back to make sure Eamon was following her. He was, though at the sight of the enclosed stairs, he paused and a grimace crossed his face. So he wasn’t happy about the small space? Not her problem.

  “My apartment is on the third floor,” she said, mounting the steps.

  Only the whisper of his cloak and an almost inaudible footfall alerted her of his ascent. She led them out of the stairwell through another door and into the third-floor hallway. The swirl-patterned, blue and cream carpet was as cheery-looking as ever, but the presence behind her was anything but jovial.

  Though she’d remained relatively calm during their outside walk to her apartment, her pulse now drummed faster with each step they took toward her door. He’d soon be in her living room, in her space. Her heart nearly burst from the thought. What would she do with him?

  At that thought, salacious images panned through her mind with surprising accuracy, and an answering heat tinged her cheeks and burned in her nether regions. Bad question and phrasing. Stripping his clothes from him wasn’t part of the deal, not that he’d let her do it. Anyway, she wouldn’t act upon the urge. She wasn’t easy. Hopefully, he wouldn’t change that.

  She drew her keys from her coat pocket and unlocked the door. With her stomach in turmoil, she let in Archie first before turning to Eamon. “Here it is,” she said lamely and nearly cursed her obvious words. Great, sounding like an idiot was just what she wanted. In fact, he seemed to bring that quality out in her.

  Stepping into her little entranceway, she waited for him to enter. Instead, he halted inside the doorway and lowered his hood. His gaze flickered this way and that, but this time no emotion sang from his expression. Though, the slight brownish tinge to his aura hinted that he might be a little uncomfortable. Good, she didn’t want to be the only uneasy one. Though it was still strange to sense his change of moods though his aura, she did find it a handy playbook on how to forecast what he might do next.

  She knew she shouldn’t be checking him out, but she took those few moments to get an eyeful of him. Though he wasn’t massive in a bodybuilder type of way, he was still large, and he filled the doorway in a way she never could. She wasn’t just talking about the size of him. No, it was the whole package — his looks, his attitude, the way he carried himself. A sinking sensation took up residence in her gut. If she weren’t careful, she’d be in over her head with him. Ha! She was already sinking under the arrogance that was called Eamon.

  Apparently, after passing a silent judgment about his new quarters, he nodded before coming inside. “It’s adequate.”

  Not exactly a gushing show of his appreciation, but then, she hadn’t expected it of him. “I’m glad it’s up to your standards. It’s not a huge apartment, but it’s home.”

  She walked into the living room while Archie made a beeline for his doggie bed. The animal must’ve finally run out of his nearly boundless energy. As she sent him a fond smile, she peeled off her gloves.

  “These living quarters will do,” Eamon said, right behind her.

  His stiff voice brought a smile to her face. So he was uncomfortable. It made him seem more human, more fallible. Maybe she could do this — put up with him for however long he’d be there.

  “I am famished. Make dinner.”

  Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d just thought. “I’ll be glad to feed you, but I’m not your servant or lackey, so please don’t order me around like one.”

  He scowled. “Do you know who I am, human? Your kind should be more than content to —”

  “Whoa, there. First, I don’t know who or what you are beyond your name. And I get the feeling you’re on your own and without the aid of your people since you asked for my help. Given that, I’d tune down the attitude a bit.” More like a lot, but she didn’t want to enrage him too much.

  He prowled toward her, something dark and passionate flaring in his eyes, and his hands clenched into fists. “You want to know who and what I am? Let me enlighten you.”

  She couldn’t rip her gaze away from the snarl curving his finely chiseled lips. Was that fear or desire revving up her system? Or both?

  When he nearly upon her, his fists slowly opened. The wrath in his gaze melted into something else — a hunger that felt just as dangerous. She couldn’t move. It was as if all the atoms in her body froze under his stare. When he grabbed her arms and yanked her toward him, all coherent thought died.

  Chapter 5

  Familiar rage boiled in Eamon’s blood, but mixed in with the dark emotion was the powerful urge to kiss the impudent, pink-cheeked mortal standing before him. His hands fisted. He wanted to quash the temptation — quash her. But he couldn’t bring himself to wring her pretty neck, and his hesitation had nothing to do with Aistiane’s instructions about no killing. It’d be easier to cease breathing than to not go to Caralyn. Even her name further inflamed him.

  On legs that seemed propelled by some other power than his own, he stalked over to her, her subtle yellow glow pulling him in. “You want to know who and what I am? Let me enlighten you.”

  A primal part of him cried out that he could bury himself in her and forget
the past, forget the present. Sometimes, all he wanted was for everything up to this day to be wiped away so he could let go of his burning wrath. Something told him Caralyn could offer up that panacea. He just knew she could, even though he should be disgusted by that idea. Once his reason returned, he surely would be. Right now, he was alone in a foreign land and desperate for food and shelter. He’d naturally grasp onto anything that could provide him comfort and the basic necessities of life.

  As he slowly uncurled his clenched fingers, his scarred right palm protested, but he ignored it. The wound was a minor one in comparison to past injuries. He was used to pain. Pain he understood but not the softening of his feelings toward an otherwise useless mortal.

  He came to a stop before her. Her wide-eyed stare sent a jolt of power straight to his groin. With a yank, he pulled her to him and slid his hands into her hair. At the feel of the silken curls gliding over his skin, he nearly groaned. When had he felt such softness in his life — or allowed himself to?

  With a few nudges, he knocked her cap aside, and it fell, abandoned, to the floor. His fingers clamped upon the soft tresses. As her lips parted, disquiet rose up underneath the desire. What in the Green Mountains was he doing? Touching her in such a way should’ve been impossible. Indeed, a strong abhorrence bubbled below the surface, but it was if someone had put a stopper on it to keep it from rising any further. He was quite glad his disgust hadn’t gone missing, but he wanted to obliterate the reason why it wasn’t fully accessible. How unfortunate that he didn’t have a clue as to the cause. Though he might need her at the moment, he certainly had no motivation to like her in any respect.

  Unless this was something she had wrought herself? Had she beguiled him? She might have powers he couldn’t sense. After all, she claimed to have seen him before in her drawings.

  His fingers glided down her neck and located her wildly beating pulse. He pressed his thumbs into the delicate skin there. It’d be so easy to damage her. “Are you a sorceress?”