The Keepers: Ethan

“No we’re not.”

“I’d be more than happy to –”

“Not in your wildest dreams, stud muffin.”

“– make some coffee, if you’d like.”

A sheepish grin spread across her face. “That’s not what you were going to say!”

“You’ll never know, will you?” He took her wrist and drew her inside, frowning when she flinched. He froze. “You’re hurting.”

She didn’t reply. Didn’t deny it either.

A ripple of unease crashed his amusement and he quietly scanned her body for signs of injuries. She’d fobbed him off earlier in the tunnel when he’d asked if she’d been hurt. He’d suspected it then. He knew it now.

“What’s wrong? And tell me you’re fine and I’ll feed you to Declan,” he added.

She rolled her eyes. “Declan doesn’t scare me.”

“I know. That’s why you’re perfect for Kate. Now answer my question.”

Her shoulders fell and she blew out air. “I have some serious road rash on my back from the fall on the bike. Usually it would heal, but I caught a few shards of glass.” She held up a small first-aid box with her other hand. Damn, he hadn’t even seen the white box that always followed trouble. “I tried removing them but …”

With a single nod, Ethan put a hand on her waist, led her inside, and shut the door.

CHAPTER TWELVE (#ulink_6a432542-1fbe-56fd-bd73-354a53dbdea7)

Asking for help hurt almost as much as the pain.

Jenna swallowed the pills Ethan had given her, watching him as he rummaged through the first-aid box on the kitchen counter. A mild frown drew his brows together and a muscle worked in his jaw.

He was worried. About her.

His wet hair had been finger-raked into place. Glorious tanned flesh contrasted the white towel. He had broad shoulders and a smooth, muscular back. He wore the mark of a Keeper, a large pentagram tattoo, on his upper right arm. A perfect resemblance of their connection to earth, his connection to his siblings and their witch. Five elements of nature. Earth. Fire. Air. Water. And Sienna, the spirit, that connected them all.

He turned around, the front of him even more muscular than the back, ripples of abs that continued into the towel around his waist. A towel that covered a very smooth, naked waist she had no business ogling.

But darn, she couldn’t help it. Fully dressed, she found it hard to tear her eyes away from him. Seeing him half-naked? Impossible.

She averted her gaze, suddenly all too aware of how underdressed they were. Something stirred inside, a swirl of desire that mingled with the curiosity, and she couldn’t deny the trickle of satisfaction that followed. She’d been alone for so long, trapped with people she despised. Survival – for herself and Kate – had been first and foremost on her mind. Not sex. It had been years since she’d felt any attraction to a man.

Until Ethan.

Oblivious to her scrutiny, Ethan tossed the box onto the couch beside her and headed to the bathroom. He stopped in front of a wooden drawer against the wall to pull out some clothes.

The glimpse of scarred flesh beneath his left arm surprised her. It ran along the entire length of his side from his hip to shoulder. A scar?

An old one. One his magic had never healed.

He shut the drawer and disappeared into the bathroom.

Puzzled, she sipped her water and looked around the room. A king-size bed nestled between two large windows overlooking the vineyards. The blinds were closed, the room lit by a single lamp. The wall opposite the bed had been tiled in natural stone tiles, a fireplace in the centre. Immaculate – which didn’t surprise her. Everything about him was neat. His kitchen, the restaurant, the way he dressed, even his hair. He was an overworked, cranky housewife’s dream.

With a charming smile, heaps of mystery and a body that could easily change the cranky status quo in a flash.

The thought sparked a grin and she leaned into the couch, wincing at the sting of pain in her back. She adjusted her robe.

Fluffy and soft. A little comfort in a lot of pain.

Ethan returned to the couch, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of black draw-string cotton pants.

Darn. She’d liked him naked.

The smell of soap and man permeated the air and she released a dreamy sigh.

If he noticed, he didn’t say anything and sat beside her. He held up a shiny gadget he’d taken from the first-aid box, snapping the points together. “Ready?”

She groaned. “Why do I get the feeling this’ll be painful?”

“Once the glass is out, it should heal soon.”

Quicker than he’d expect. All Keepers had the ability to heal rapidly, but she was different. She healed instantly.

“It’s still gonna hurt like hell. Why weren’t Keepers blessed with a higher pain threshold?”

“Because we’re mortals. Not gods.”

“So why couldn’t we be mortals with higher thresholds?”

“Don’t be a sissy. Pain keeps us real.”

“I can think of other things that keep me real.”

He smiled. “The painkillers will help.”

“Maybe.” She waved a hand at his clothes. “But I preferred the towel. It made for a great distraction.”

A smile curled his lips and she stared at them, wondering what he’d taste like.

His grin widened at her scrutiny. “Clearly you’re in more pain than I thought.”

Not for long. Once he removed the glass, her magic would heal the flesh immediately – if she allowed it to. But he couldn’t know that. Not yet. Exposing her magic would expose her lineage – and she hadn’t had enough painkillers for that conversation.

He made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around and lower your robe.”

“I hope you use better word choices for the women you bed.”

His smile was pure mischief. “Trust me, babe, when it comes to bedding a woman, I have a separate vocabulary.”