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He smiled. “I am alive.”
I was embarrassed by my reaction.
“I… how?”
“Would you please finish this?”
He sounded stronger, and his breathing was not hitched anymore.
The last two wounds were easy to deal with. The bullets were not that deep, and I was able to remove them quickly. Once I picked the last two bullets out of his body, I dropped them inside the empty Mac and cheese pot with a loud plop, all this time doing my best to ignore his beautiful eyes that tried to catch my gaze.
Blood covered the floor, my hands and shirt, and his chest, but the bullet holes were gone.
“What are you?” The moment I asked the question, I regretted doing so. But I was not famous for my ability to control my big mouth. My eyes were big with terror.
He sat up on my kitchen table and gave me a view that made me dizzy. This man was drop-dead gorgeous with a strong chin covered in stubble that I wished would rub against my inner thighs.
Just then, I gave myself a mental slap and tried to remind myself that he was going to kill me because I was too dumb to call the ambulance and the police when he was out cold.
Fuck!
He’s not human, and I know it. The fucking odds were so not in my fucking favor.
Pulling the remains of his shirt off his back, he threw the bloody rag on the floor. It made a wet sound against the blood-soaked linoleum.
I didn’t care about anything else. I had to take a swing from the bottle. The last thing I wanted was to cry like a baby when this gorgeous angel of death killed me.
“Can you do a headshot, please?” I asked with a smirk.
“Give me that bottle.” He looked deep into my eyes.
I felt incredibly self-conscious about the horrible way I looked.
Just then, the power returned, and I saw my reflection in the window. My scrubs were stained with his blood. My hair was a mess, the bun I was wearing half open, and my hair partially covered with his blood. My tired face looked as pale as if I had seen a ghost. As much as I wanted to like the dark circles under my eyes, that won’t happen soon.
He took his gun, flipped the safety on, and offered it to me the handle first.
“Are you trying to get my fingerprints on it?”
“No.”
The silence felt the way sand sticks to your skin after a hot day at the beach. It was painful and inconvenient. Taking another gulp of vodka, I looked into his eyes.
“Do it, if you plan to.”
He laughed as if I just said the funniest thing ever. His head leaned back, and his fully recovered body shook.
“It’s empty. I had no intention to hurt you, Yana.”
The way he said hurt made me flinch. Damn, hurt me, but in a good way, please. I must be sex-starved. This man was fuck on a stick.
“What the Hell are you?”
He jumped from the table, took the weapon, and dropped the empty clip on my floor before putting a new one in.
“My friends call me Soren,” he said with an accent I couldn’t place, but that had me getting all hot and flush in regions I forgot I had. Now that he stood up, he towered over me.
“That’s no answer, Soren.”
