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Only One I Want (UnHallowed Series Book 2) by Tmonique Stephens (12)

11

Amaya called the bank. Having money really did bring privilege. Being the owner of a large account got her an after-hours meeting with the manager, at a time when she could leave the property in Bane’s care. She spent the earlier part of the day checking out the barn—there wasn’t anything useful in there—and mapping the land. It was her first home and she wanted to know every inch of it. There were benefits to having tall grass, traps she could hide. What if an animal stumbled into one and died? No, the grass would have to go, just not today.

By the time sunset arrived, she was beyond sweaty and dirty. Still, she showered, grabbed all her paperwork, and headed to town. Bane was on the sagging porch, leaning on a warped post when she drove away, the last rays of the sun fading into the night.

The bank manager was strangely accommodating, as if he had expected her call. He even opened a line of credit for her until all the paperwork cleared. Next, she stopped by the local home improvement store and got the names of a few contractors. It was close to midnight by the time she made it back to her apartment.

This was her pattern for the next four days. Fourteen hours at the house, her evenings spent away from the place, making arrangements. She hadn’t seen Bane since that second day. Oh, she felt his presence, caught his scent time and again. She honored her word and never ventured to the basement even though he disregarded her wishes by being everywhere and nowhere, felt but unseen. Unnerved, she took to staying on the porch most of her shift.

Today, she had arrived at the house more excited than the last few days. The architect would be there soon. They’d discuss taking the planks off the windows, fixing the leaky roof in the kitchen, and the sagging porch. She wanted to replace the railing to the stairs, gut the kitchen, and replace everything in it. She wanted her dream house, even bought magazines to show the architect what she had in mind.

She didn’t have to wait long. By the time she finished her cream cheese bagel and coffee, a green Land Rover coasted to a stop at the end of the overgrown driveway. Holding a copy of Home and Garden, Amaya waited on the porch as the architect threaded his way through the tall grass between the road and the house. He was her height—five feet, ten inches—and leaner than she liked with a bit of salt at his temples.

“This is a great piece of land. Lots of acreage to do whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” Amaya held out her hand which he held a bit too long and stood a bit too close. It was flattering, except she didn’t know if he did it because he was truly interested in her or the contract for redesigning the house.

The porch squealed under his weight and he gave a nod. “It’s tilted and warped, that’s why it does that.”

She smiled instead of addressing his condescending tone.

“Do you plan on farming?”

She shook her head. “A farmer I’m not. Though I wouldn’t mind a garden. Vegetables and herbs.”

“Good idea. We’ll include a garden in the landscaping plans. We can put in a pool and a nice backyard, if you have room in your budget.”

A nice way of saying if you can afford it.

He followed her into the house, pausing inside the doorway. “The first thing we’ll do is remove the boards from the windows and get some light into the place.”

“What’s the second thing you will do?”

They both turned at the unexpected voice. Bane stood in a corner of the room, in a patch of darkness untouched by the light seeping between the boarded windows and open front door. A muscle ticked in his left temple, though his gaze was clear of any red.

“Hello.” The architect glanced between Amaya and Bane, the speculation on his face apparent. “I didn’t see you there.” He stepped forward and extended his hand.

Bane didn’t move and he didn’t return the greeting. His gaze shifted to Amaya. “Send him away. Or I will.”

The architect sputtered and drew himself up to his full height, three inches shorter than Bane. In a blink, Bane had the guy by his expensive lapels with his loafers two inches off the ground, bringing him eye level. Red had almost completely swallowed Bane’s irises. The architect’s sputtering stopped and he slumped in Bane’s hands.

Bane’s cool gaze swallowed Amaya. Beams of light leaked through the uneven slats of the warped window planks and burned dime-sized circles onto his forehead and the side of his neck. “You took too long.” His crimson gaze ended and he set the guy on his feet. “Send him on his way now.” Power rolled in his voice.

Amaya was just as frozen, though not from Bane’s power. He hadn’t taken her will, shock had taken her ability to speak. She wanted to say, how dare you, like a damsel in distress, but her lips refused to move.

“You’re going to go home, have a nice brunch and all you will remember of this day is that you came, saw the property, and declined the job. It was too small for your skills. Now, on your way.” He ruffled the guy’s hair. Like a good little boy, the architect wheeled about and walked out of the door, while Bane retreated deeper into the house.

Amaya followed her nemesis through the living room and halfway through the dining room before she mustered the ability to shout, “What the hell? How dare—this is my house! I can do what the hell I

He took her by the arms, his grip biting into her skin as she struggled to be free. “How do you know that wasn’t a Spaun? Unlike Darklings, which are a bit more substantial than mist, Spaun can shape shift, be anyone. That’s why Michael only wanted you and me to guard this place. Why he trusted us and no one else.”

She stilled, dread tightening her chest until she couldn’t breathe. “I didn’t…”

His palms smoothed down her bare arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “It’s okay. He wasn’t one. He crossed the threshold without an invite. Demons can’t enter a home without one. That’s why Michael put my name on the deed. Plus, I would have sensed it when I touched him, but you wouldn’t have. He would’ve forced you to tell him where the Cruor was, then killed you whether or not you gave him the information.”

“But”—she looked at the shuttered windows— “it’s daylight.”

“Spaun can walk in the daylight, Amaya. With the exception of Darklings, all of Hell’s creatures can.”

Why didn’t Braile tell her? Why didn’t Michael? “He should’ve told me,” she ground out, angry and hurt.

“Yeah. Michael should’ve. The fact that he didn’t shows you what kind of ass he is.”

She wasn’t quite ready to call Michael and Braile asses in front of Bane, but agreed. “I won’t make that mistake again.” She pulled away and he let her go. So much for fixing the house up. She’d given up her apartment, saved what she wanted in a storage unit, and moved into a motel in Danville. Guess she’d be calling that room home sweet home for the foreseeable future. She rolled the magazine until it crinkled.

Bane plucked the magazine from her hands. He flipped through it and stopped at the first dog-eared page. “Is this what you want?” He pointed to a picture of a country kitchen with oak cabinets and chrome appliances.

“It doesn’t matter.” She reached for the magazine.

“May I?” He kept it.

Amaya shrugged and headed for the front door, then paused. “Are you okay?” She motioned to her forehead and neck.

Bane touched the scorched skin on his face and the side of his throat. A cagey grin spread across his face and desire banked in his red-rimmed gaze. “It will fade in a moment.”

Something low and warm tugged in her belly, anxiety mixed with relief that he was all right. “I’m going on patrol.”

She didn’t return until nightfall. Again, Bane waited on the porch as she got in her car and drove away.