One of his eyebrows arches. “Really,” he drawls out, elongating the word like he’s challenging me.
“Who are you?” I blurt curiously. He’s making me feel like he knows more than he should. I’m second-guessing the whole human assumption. A human wouldn’t be sitting up, acting like he’s fine. The bandage I taped over his wound last night is still there, keeping me from seeing his injuries.
“I’m Gunnar.” I hear a slight accent in his voice when he pronounces his name. He glances down, but peers up at me from under his brow quickly after.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Damiana.” I lift my hand from the chair, I have to stop myself from giving him a wave and place it in my lap instead. That small grin slants his lip again.
“Evening, Damiana. I thank you for your hospitality.” He pronounces my name right the very first time, like it’s rolled off his tongue countless times before. That never happens.
I cast a sideways glance at him. “Do I know you?” That achingly familiar feeling comes back. Could he be one of the many men I’ve used over the past few years? I dismiss the thought almost immediately. I would have remembered that face, that body. I let my eyes travel over his features, very much enjoying what I see.
“We’ve never met before,” he answers vaguely, but I don’t see how.
“Strange,” I counter, but I can’t argue. I have no memory of meeting him either, just the uncanny feeling we do somehow know each other.
“Why is that strange?”
“The sun has set,” I announce without answering his question.
Gunnar glances to the left, looking out into the darkness through the window. “It seems it has.” His reply is soft, almost like it makes him sad.
I rise from my chair again, this time with a slow grace. “Would you care to shower? I would offer you some clothing, but I fear I don’t have anything that would fit.” A grin tugs at my lips when I think of him in one of my silky robes or trying to wear one of my shirts.
Gunnar looks up at me without moving more than his neck. “So, no man of the house then?”
Another laugh tinkles from my throat. “Goodness, no.” I shake my head. “Troublesome creatures, aren’t they? Always spilling blood and grime.” I poke a little fun at him about the mess he left on my floor. “And needy, too. They want to be fed and kept warm.” I shudder as if the idea were abhorrent.
In truth, none could handle me for more than a day or two. I’m too blunt, too set in my ways to have only one man warming my bed. But mostly, I’m not willing to give up the only friends I’ve ever had.
I can’t imagine any man being comfortable with Crabby or Samson stopping by for a late-night visit. And don’t even get me started on Uncle.
“I’m not always covered in my own blood.” He somehow manages to stare up at me like he’s the predator in the room, even though I don’t feel threatened in any way. “It’s usually someone else’s.”
I smile again. Even though his words would terrify most people, I’m not most people. “I bet you’re the life of the party.” I sigh wistfully before moving a little closer, asking, “Do you need help getting up?”
Gunnar pushes up off the floor in a single fluid movement. I take a step back, surprised he can move that easily after such a serious injury. Now that he’s standing, I lower my eyes to his abdomen. “You seem to be quite the fast healer, Gunnar.” My voice lilts when I say his name.
“Must have looked worse than it was,” he counters, not offering any other explanation. “Does the offer to shower still stand?”
“Oh, of course.” I pull my eyes from his lower body. “Right through there.” I point at the door to my bathroom.
Gunnar tilts his head down in a slow, single nod. “My lady.”
His tone actually makes me blush. I’ve never been called a lady, not in the way he’s saying it. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Take your time.” I leave him alone in my bedroom before I decide his wounds definitely don’t look that bad and ask him if he would like help washing his back.
Distracted, I find my way to the kitchen. I don’t eat, but many of my friends do. I should have something for him, even if I don’t exactly know what he is.
I hear the sound of a few boxes being shifted in the pantry. “Dare, is that you?” I whisper, with my hand on the doorknob. I get a small, delicate squeak in response.
“I have company,” I mutter, cracking the door just enough to peer through the opening. Dare is raised up on her hind legs, her little hands poised over her rounded belly. Excitement blossoms in my stomach that I have someone to talk to. Bringing my hands up close to my chin, I clap them together softly. “I have a real visitor,” I announce.
The spikes all over Dare’s back and around her neck droop a little. “Not that you and all the others aren’t real visitors. You’re like my family—you know that,” I assure her, recovering quickly. “But this is a man.” I lean in even closer, so I can see her beady red eyes. “I think he might be human, but I’m not sure.”
Dare’s spikes immediately lift, responding to the perceived threat. I reach out and stroke her soft fur and the razor-sharp spikes dotted all over her body. “No, it’s okay. He won’t even know you’re here, and I would never let him hurt you,” I coo, tickling her under her chin. The tiny barbs there are like needles. I don’t know anyone else who would dare touch her there. Dare’s mouth lolls open a bit, showing off the rows of teeth she keeps hidden behind her lips as she leans into my caress.
“I’m going to get him a snack. Help yourself to whatever you would like.” I marvel at the way none of her defenses affect me. I could slam my hand over any of her thorns, and they wouldn’t penetrate my skin. “Just don’t come running out to attack if you smell or hear him,” I warn. “If you bump into anyone else, warn them, too.” I give her tiny, rat-like face a little smooch. “See you in a bit, Dare.”
I look over my offerings on the counter, wondering if I have enough. There are cookies, Pop-Tarts, candy bars, and chips. I tap my chin, thinking I need more. Rushing over to the fridge, I grab a couple cans of soda and set them off to the side. “Ice cream,” I blurt. “I can’t believe I forgot the ice cream.” Satisfied, I climb onto the island, letting my legs dangle down.
