Amethyst Flame (Flame 2)

She remembered that something else needed doing. “Wrap up my leg with that other thing.” Her hand flopped as though all on its own toward the basket.

Her mind flowed in and out now, but she could feel him working on her leg.

The next thing she knew she was falling into something soft. Oh, her bed. Not falling. Vaughn was settling her on the sheets. She turned on her side and slid her hands beneath her cheek. Warmth flowed over her. Maybe he’d covered her up.

Once more, she felt lovely soft fingers on her face.

“Vaughn?”

“Sleep for a bit.”

“I will.”

Then she was gone.

~ ~ ~

Once Emma drifted off, Vaughn headed to the bathroom. He put the basket back where he’d found it, then cleaned up the blood from the floor all the way to the distant side door.

With Emma out cold because of her gunshot wound concoction, he needed to take care of his own issue. He hadn’t gotten hurt, but Emma’s blood had gotten on his leathers and his boots. He didn’t have a pleasant smell, either, something like fear and death combined with a whole lot of lust thrown into the mix.

She’d said she wanted him bad. He felt the same way about her and it hadn’t helped to take her pants off and see a sheer-as-hell violet thong barely covering her sex.

He removed his Glock and holster, setting it on the bathroom sink. He then stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the oversized shower. It felt good to soap up and rinse off.

Something had changed for him in the past hour since he’d taken care of Emma then put her to bed. It had all felt so normal, like they were a couple, and it had left him feeling shaky. Or hell, maybe it was the adrenaline.

He didn’t get what was going on with him because he usually didn’t give a shit whether he lived or died.

Yet right now he did.

As he shut the water off, he pulled a towel from the nearby bar and dried his hair. Wiping down his body, he glanced at his cock. Here was the main problem. The damn thing was half-swollen with desire for the woman lying partially clothed in her bed.

When she’d downed the vial of her witch-remedy pain-killer and began healing at lightning speed, he’d started to relax. Her wound and all the blood that had soaked her jeans had driven straight through his heart. He didn’t want her hurt, and he really didn’t want her dead.

And because the balm had done its work so quickly, he’d become acutely aware of her long, bare legs, beautiful skin and how much he wanted her.

He glanced down again. He’d stopped toweling, but the turn of his thoughts had brought his cock to full attention. He took it in hand and his breathing grew rough. Thoughts of Emma and her thong filled his head once more. He almost started stroking, but decided he’d better get himself settled down. He had more important things to do than to fire one off.

He wrapped a second towel around his hips, though it took a full minute before the terry cloth lay flat against his body.

He glanced at his blood-stained, sweaty clothes. He’d have to put them back on eventually, but not right now. Maybe later, after the drug Emma had taken wore off. For now, he’d stay in a cleaned up state especially since he was in her home.

The woman had money and beautiful things. Even the carpet had a deep plush feel as he moved back into the bedroom.

Unfortunately for his ever-present desire for the witch, Emma had thrown the comforter off her, then rolled onto her back, legs spread, her arms over her head. Most of her abdomen was exposed.

His gaze followed her curves. She had an unusually narrow waist and he wondered if his hands would fit her all the way around. Once more his gaze fell to the sight of her sex behind a thin violet veil. A narrow strip of auburn hair made his jaw tremble.

He licked his lips and just like that his other problem returned, pushing once more against the towel around his waist.

Tearing his gaze away from her, he moved into a large adjacent dressing room. From the phone conversations, he’d learned that Emma had entered Five Bridges with a trust fund. Her home was large and well-maintained, though he knew for a fact that at least three cartel lieutenants lived in her upscale neighborhood.

But that was life in their world. Gainful employment was hard to come by since the sex and drug trade dominated the economy.

That she’d chosen to serve as a TPS officer without pay was one of the reasons he admired her. She served because she wanted more than anything to help make their world a decent place to live.

He moved toward a large upholstered bench in the center of the room. He was about to sit down, when an unexpected array of clothes hit him hard. The side of the closet he faced held a row of clothing that belonged to a man. A big man. Someone his size.