Chapter 26
Wish
She almost wasn’t able to believe her eyes. The real man who was Garenth bin Al-Emin stood staring at her, astonished as much as she was by this miraculous transformation.
She couldn’t help herself as she scanned his newly revealed body. His legs below his knees were still encased in the softened stone, but it wouldn’t take any effort to remove the last of it.
More fascinating was his lack of hair. Not on his head or face. Not on his arms or chest, or anywhere else on his body, she realized as she surreptitiously glanced down at his groin.
What was more miraculous than what was happening was the fact that the bullets hadn’t penetrated his body. There were no marks or wounds anywhere on him. His rock façade had acted like a bulletproof shield, absorbing and encasing the deadly projectiles. The blood she’d seen when she’d tended his wounds had come from the blood-enriched membrane that had buffered his body from the rough stone. The pain he’d suffered was no different than the deep bruising and discomfort any military man or police officer endured when they were shot and the bullets struck their flak jackets.
He shuffled his feet. Water splashed inside the bathtub. She glanced down at the mess filling and floating in the tub. “My landlord’s going to be pissed if any of this stops up the drainage system. We need to get out so I can clean this up.”
She stepped out of the tub and onto the bath mat. Dirty brown water poured from her jeans. All this time she’d believed his outer countenance was solid rock. When, in reality, it had been more like hardened clay, or some sort of water-soluble rock-like substance.
She looked up again at him. She couldn’t get over the difference. He had a strong face, with a slightly beak-like nose that gave him an austere appearance. Even more striking was the fact that the heavily-muscled arms and legs she’d seen when he’d been a gargoyle had been real extensions of his own muscles. What did Irmine say he’d been? A general in the pharaoh’s army? She believed it. The man was chiseled.
She wasn’t expecting him to reach out and grab her by the arm. For a moment she thought he needed help getting out of the tub, and she moved toward him to give him aid. Instead, he stopped her, their faces mere inches apart.
His dark brown eyes searched hers. The expression in them was unreadable, but she got the impression he wanted to thank her. He was overwhelmed by what had just happened, and he wanted to let her know how grateful he was.
And then, incredibly, she knew she didn’t want his gratitude as much as she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel those rock-hard muscles enfold her, surround her, and hold her. But she couldn’t ask him to do it. Neither could she make the first move. He had to be the one to instigate it.
If only he would.
His face dipped closer to hers, and suddenly she knew she was about to get her wish. She closed her eyes and waited, hoping she’d read him correctly.
His mouth was gentle when it touched her hers, but quickly became demanding. His hands grasped her arms and drew her closer. If not for the side of the tub being between them, she knew he would have embraced her. Instead, his lips claimed her, moving forcefully but not enough to hurt her. At some point he cupped the back of her head and delved deeper, using his tongue to gently prod past her teeth until she opened up completely to him.
She let herself become lost in his kiss. This was not a passionate moment, although she’d have no problem if it was. Yet, it was tantalizing, almost promising at what could be, what might be.
Her knees went weak with the sensations that overwhelmed her. She was vaguely aware of the water that bounced off his body and sprayed across the bathroom, soaking her even more than she already was. She had no recollection of grasping his wrists until he unexpectedly pulled away, ending the kiss. She blinked at him, still dazed by the contact.
“Brielle?” In that one word, the simple question was unavoidable. He was asking permission to go further. To take this moment to the next step. God, what she wouldn’t give to let him, but now was not the time.
Clearing her throat, she disengaged herself and slowly pulled away from him even when her brain was screaming for her not to. It was almost painful to distance herself. Worse, when she looked into his eyes, she could see his disappointment and sadness.
She fumbled blindly for the cell phone sitting on the vanity. Her fingers brushed the case, knocking it into the sink. Her hands were shaking when she finally retrieved it and clicked the app.
“You need to rest. You’re not well. You need to regain your strength.” As the phone interpreted her remarks, she hurried into the kitchen to grab a trash bag. By the time she returned to the bathroom, he was washing the remaining mud clinging to his feet.
She handed him a blanket she’d grabbed from her bedroom closet. “Dry off and wrap yourself in this.”
He moved aside as she knelt by the tub and proceeded to fill the trash bag with the debris. She was aware of him watching her, but at some point he left and went back into the bedroom.
Most of what she gathered fit into the bag, the only exceptions being the wings. No matter how hard she tried to break them or fold them, the huge appendages remained rigid. Sighing, she set them aside and finished clearing out the tub. When she was done with that, she stood and tied up the bag.
“I’m taking this downstairs to be burned. I’ll be right back.”
Garenth gave a nod from where he was in bed, sitting up against the headboard.
Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she hoisted the wings underneath one arm and left the apartment. If someone inquired about the oddities, she planned to tell them it was an old Halloween costume, and leave it at that. Fortunately, she didn’t pass anyone on her way down to where the incinerator was located. As the mechanism was already in use, she dumped everything on the concrete floor, next to two more bags of garbage, and returned upstairs.
By the time she walked into the bedroom to check on her roommate, she discovered him slumped over sideways, sound asleep. She debated for a moment whether or not to continue cleaning the bathroom, but blew it off. She was tired, and the cleanup could wait. She’d also take her shower in the morning, fearing that any noise she made might wake him up. Garenth may not appear to be physically harmed, but divesting him of his outer shell had to have taken a toll on him, as evidenced by his current state of unconsciousness.
Instead, she opted to strip out of her wet and blood-stained clothes, dumping them in the hamper, and snuck a clean sleep shirt from her bureau drawer.
Leaving the bedroom door ajar, she plugged her phone into the wall charger in the kitchen and went back to the comfy old sofa to get some well-deserved rest.