“Weirdest thing,” I said, trying not to reach across the table and do naughty things to him. “I remember this guy grabbing me on the way out of Escapes and grabbing my purse. Only I didn’t let go of it.”
I didn’t want to add the because I was drunk part. “I seem to recall an alley, and”-I rubbed the side of my neck-“I think he bit me. I don’t remember much after that, except passing out in the back of a cab and sharing a few drinks with you.” The memory of the biting-mugging bothered me. My fingers touched my neck again, and I had to swallow hard.
The sexy, reach-across-the-table-and-fuck-me look was gone from his face. In fact, he looked rather green. “Did you say you were bitten?”
I nodded, looking mournfully down at my empty coffee mug. Noah wasn’t looking at me like he wanted to eat me anymore. No coffee, and the waitress was probably slipping a hair or two in my salad. “Like I said, it’s all pretty much a haze.”
Noah reached over the table and grabbed my hand in his. “Jackie, this is very important. What was he wearing?”
I tried to jerk my hand from his and found that a rather useless action. “Let go of me or I’m going to start screaming.”
“What was he wearing?” His voice was deadly low.
I rolled my eyes, trying to seem casual. “A black trench coat, I think. In August-go figure. Can I have my hand back now?”
Noah paled and released my hand at once. It was almost amusing-except he looked like he’d just been told he was about to be a father. “Bloody hell.”
“Problem?” I inquired, tilting my head. “I don’t see why this guy’s coat is so important. I mean, I was the one molested by him and you don’t see me freaking out.” I paused. “Which, come to think of it, is kinda weird in itself.”
“He bit you, Jackie. He drained some of your blood and brought you to this side of town to throw off your trail.” Noah rubbed a hand down his face. “And to put you right in my path. Bloody, bloody hell.” His mouth set in a grim line, he looked back at me. “Tell me about the last day you remember. Your timeline. Everything you did.”
“Look, you’re starting to weird me out,” I said. As much as I wanted to find out what had really gone down, spending more time with my one-night stand was proving to be a huge mistake. “So while it’s been swell, I really must be going …”
His hand clamped over mine again. “You’re staying.”
Every fiber of my being protested that notion, yet I found that I could not disobey him. Weirdest thing. “Right. I’m staying.”
I sat.
Noah’s hand patted mine again. “I think we have a real problem on our hands.”
“And why is that?”
He leaned in close. I leaned closer, too, my breasts pressing against the countertop and my body tingling with excitement. Would he lick the shell of my ear? Would I burst into an instant orgasm if he did?
“I think you died,” he whispered.
Talk about killing the mood.
CHAPTER THREE
“Not you too?” I slammed up from the booth, tipping over coffee cups and causing several people to turn around. I didn’t care-all of my dislike was focused squarely on Noah. “I’ve had enough of this. Go to hell!”
Did everyone around here have some sort of sick obsession with death?
Noah stood too, and his strong hand clamped my upper arm. “You’ll sit down, and you’ll be quiet.” His voice remained low and calm.
To my surprise, I did just that, slouching back down in my seat and blinking at him. Noah sat as well, regarding me quietly as the waitress hurried over and cleaned up the spilled coffee. A few silent moments later, our cups were refilled and we were alone again. “Now sit and drink,” he commanded.
“Why is it that whenever you say something, I feel like I have to obey you?” I picked up my mug, bewildered by my own actions.
He sighed. “I was afraid of that. Are you going to sit and listen to what I have to say, or do I have to force you to remain in place?”
I didn’t suppose that it mattered either way, so I gave him a fake smile. “I’m all ears. Go ahead.” Noah was the second person who thought I had died. And skeptic though I was, the hairs on the back of my neck were starting to prickle.
He raked a hand through his hair, looking rather distressed-until the waitress dropped his double cheeseburger in front of him. Then he just looked pleased.
My salad looked unexciting, but at least it wouldn’t gravitate immediately to my hips. I took my fork and began picking out cucumber chunks and moving them to the side of my plate as I waited for him to begin speaking again.
“You’re not taking this seriously enough,” Noah began, between bites of his extremely greasy, extremely sloppy hamburger. It amazed me that he managed not to get any on his shirt, but remained neat and tidy. His tongue darted out to clean his lips, and I salivated.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Annoyed at myself, I tossed a napkin at him. “It’s hard to take a man seriously when he’s got mustard dripping down his chin,” I lied.
I wanted to lick his lips for him.
Noah took the napkin and swished at his chin. “Sorry.” He put the burger down and gave me a grave look. “I’m going to explain, and I don’t want you to interrupt until I’m done.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing would come out. Crap! Another one of his mind-control techniques. What was it with this guy? And why wasn’t I scared of a man who could force me to do whatever he wanted?
Actually, it turned me on. I crossed my legs again, hoping I’d hit that magic spot where the incessant pulsing would vanish.
It might be the whole utterly gorgeous thing he had going on. I’d never seen a better-looking man than him, like ever. Brad Pitt held nothing to this guy. His hair was dark blond, thick and curly. Longish, too-it scraped the collar of his well-made starched shirt. High cheekbones graced his face, accentuated by a perfect nose and chiseled mouth. He looked like he was heading to a business meeting in slacks and a pressed white shirt, but without the tie. Broad shoulders and big hands. Big everything. I flushed and shifted in my seat again.
He was almost too pretty for a man, all chiseled lines and aquiline features, topped off by those beautiful silvery eyes. When they were blue, like before, they had been stunning. Did he have colored contacts?
“You’re quiet.”
I stopped studying him through my thick glasses and gave him an annoyed look. When he merely blinked at me, I pointed at my mouth.
“Oh, right. Sorry, I’m a bit new to the whole ‘controlling’ thing. See … I’m …” He paused, thinking hard and staring at me like I was the enemy. “This is a bit difficult for me to explain.” He rolled up his sleeve, then extended his arm toward me. A tiny set of archaic symbols was tattooed on his wrist. It didn’t resemble anything I’d ever seen before, and I gave him a blank stare.
“Right. You don’t know what that is. I forgot how ignorant modern society is.”
What was he talking about?
He pointed at his wrist, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening in. “This is a symbol from the angelic alphabet.” When I continued to quirk an eyebrow at him, he added, “I’m an angel.”
Apparently I could still snort in disbelief.
“I’m serious,” he protested. “You may not believe me, but that’s not important right now. The point is, I’m one of the fallen-the Serim-and why I’m here is not that important. It’s what happened between us that’s important.”
What a shame, I thought as I stared up at him with longing. Gorgeous and totally loony. I was dying to retort, but all I could do was chew my salad.
He looked rather tormented by my skepticism, and I began to feel bad. I waved my fork for him to continue.