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31
Guilt, My Old Friend
“COFFEE?” I ASKED, LEADINGthe way into a kitchen that wasn’t mine. Hands shaking, I worked the coffee machine to my liking with Sloan hovering curiously behind me.
His hand touched the counter before affectionately covering my quaking one. He stalled me before I lost control over a pot full of water. “Let me,” the blue-eyed incubus entreated sweetly and quickly took over the task.
In chic but militia-grade training attire, the gorgeous man looked like he’d definitely come to play. His dark hair was slicked back away from his striking blue eyes, his strong jaw on full display. He didn’t have piercings like Phillip did, but ink peeked out from the back of his collar, indicating some sort of tattoo was there. It was the first time I noticed it since meeting the other Hunter, and I wanted to know if he had more than one, or if it was large or maybe just a little one. But outright asking him to take off his shirt so I could see it would make me look much too thirsty for my liking.
Didn’t want Sloan to think I was a hormone-charged teenager, even though that was exactly what I was.
The beautiful Hunter dropped several tablespoons of coffee into the filter and locked it into place, his movements smooth and confident. Not far from what he looked like in a fight.
Sloan’s sinewy body was outfitted with heavy weaponry, placed strategically all over his chest and legs, and styled for his long-range preference. Hand sticks, a crossbow, and a couple spiked whips were scattered around his torso and back.
Kinky.
Yep. I was going to Hell. Talk about déjà vu.
I caught sight of a few devices I’d seen on Phillip a handful of times. They were fitted into holding spots within proper reaching distance around his shoulders and waist. Sloan and Phillip had at some point worked together, so it made sense he’d employ similar tools. It was likely with his help they were created, if I thought about it. Phillip mentioned Sloan was the dude who helped him create the serum and reverse serum; it wouldn’t be a far-off guess to think he’d helped with other things, too.
I’d chosen to wear my fighting gear as well, always ready to defend myself because Grams never settled for anything less. With training, I didn’t expect either guy would take it easy on me. My life depended on learning whatever I could as fast as I could, and they wouldn’t be doing me any favors by going easy on me.
“Are you doing okay? Where’s Phillip?” His sideways glance landed on me with a sincerity that brought immediate heat to my face.
How is Sloan this sparkly at five in the morning? Jesus.
Sucking in a calming breath, I pivoted and rested back against the counter, my eyes aimed the direction of Phillip’s bedroom. “Probably still sleeping is my guess,” I lied.
Sloan started the machine and then mimicked my position against the counter. “I sense otherwise.”
My shoulders stiffened, guilt rising into my throat. “I don’t like how perceptive all you damn Hunters are.”
I preferred stupid school boys who almost never picked up on subtle or unsubtle hints, no matter what I did. I missed it. Now I was always on guard, sure my every intention and thought could be read on my face.
Shrugging, Sloan crossed his arms and directed a kind look at me. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m just curious if I may have unintentionally caused problems with my visit last night.”
I scoffed and swept stray hair out of my eyes, shaking my head. “Not at all. You were great. Just the dude upstairs who needs to think a little before he speaks.”
“So I was right to assume you fought?”
Damn. He’s good.
