Her Guardian Angel 4-Her Angel Series (12 page)

He
sheathed the two blades at his waist, closed his eyes and hung his
head as he drew a deep breath. The weariness written across every
inch of him called to her, told her to go to him and soothe his
pain, to give him respite and comfort. She looked at his thigh and
the long gash there, and the ribbons of blood that trailed down
from it towards the armour that protected his shin. The sight of
the wound made her take a step forwards but she still hesitated,
fearing that she was making a terrible mistake and that she had
been right about Marcus. He was another black knight. A man more
dangerous than any before him.

And she
was afraid of losing her heart to him.

He wiped
the back of his hand across his forehead, clearing away the beads
of sweat gathered there and pushing his black hair out of his face,
and then looked at her.

“Are you
alright?” he said.

How could
he ask her such a thing when he was hurt because of her, when he’d
had to fight those foul things to protect her? Why? Tears welled up
but she sniffed them back. She was stronger than this, made of
sterner stuff that could withstand whatever life threw at
her.

Even
this.

Marcus
reached out and she didn’t flinch as he smoothed his fingers across
her cheek as though wiping something away. She leaned into his
touch and the hurt in his eyes lifted again, until he looked almost
as he had done last night when they had kissed. Happy? She had felt
happy in that moment too and she wanted to feel that
again.

She
didn’t want to feel scared, not of those things that had tried to
hurt her or of Marcus.

He had
protected her, had fought for her, but she couldn’t look at him
without feeling a lingering trace of fear.

She would
overcome it. Marcus had done nothing to deserve her fear. He had
done everything to deserve her trust. She was stronger than this.
She was.

Her legs
betrayed her and her knees gave out. She didn’t hit the floor.
Marcus’s arm was around her in an instant, strong and steady
against her back, supporting her and holding her pressed against
his body. She felt the wet slide of blood on her leg where his
touched it, and felt the granite hardness of his armour against her
chest, and the warmth of his skin on her side where his arm curled
protectively around her.

Amelia
stared up into his silver-blue eyes, amazed and transfixed as the
darker flecks of blue in them moved and his irises brightened
again.

“Amelia?”
he said thickly and she melted into him, her strength leaving her,
and couldn’t stop the tears from escaping. A pained look crossed
his face as his gaze tracked them over her cheeks and then it
softened as he gently wiped them away. “Are you
alright?”

She
nodded mutely even though she wasn’t sure if she was alright. She
was alive, and so was he, and right now that was all that mattered
to her. He wasn’t something to fear. He had saved her and she was
safe with him.

“We have
to leave… I know this is a lot for you to take in, but we are not
safe here.” His words brought with them a flash of the man they had
left in the alley.

Wasn’t he
dead?

She
didn’t want Marcus to fight another one of those things.

Amelia
nodded again. He was right. They had to leave. But how?

She
looked at the roof exit. The man would come that way, wouldn’t he?
The others hadn’t. They had been here waiting for her and Marcus.
How?

Marcus
shocked her back to reality when he bent, slid his other arm under
the crook of her knees, and lifted her. Her arms instantly looped
around his neck, fear of falling chasing away the madness of
everything that had happened for a sweet brief moment before it
came crashing back again. She stared at Marcus, trying to force
herself to see him as he was. A man wearing armour, bloodied from
his battle against two monsters. A warrior who had protected
her.

“Trust
me, Amelia,” he whispered so close to her face that his warm breath
fanned her neck and she looked at him, deep into his eyes, seeing
only hope in them.

“I do,”
she said in a low voice and then wasn’t sure it had been the right
thing to say when he ran towards the edge of the roof and leapt
off.

Amelia’s
eyes slowly widened as they hurtled towards the roof of the next
building over fifty feet below them and she dug her fingers into
Marcus’s hair, holding on for dear life. She opened her mouth to
let out a scream and curled up, bracing for impact. Was this how
her short life was going to end?

She
turned to face Marcus and his gaze met hers, expression awkward and
bordering on irritated. Not the sort of face she had expected from
a man about to die.

They hit
the roof.

Rather
than the collision she had braced for, it felt more like Marcus had
jumped barely a few feet. He landed in a crouch with her tucked as
close to his chest as his blue armour allowed, and then stood. Her
heart slowly came unstuck from the back of her throat and dropped
into her chest, and she stared back up at the roof of the building
he had leapt from, unable to believe they had fallen so far without
injury.

Something
in Marcus’s eyes said that he hadn’t expected that to happen
either. He looked over his shoulder at the back of his armour,
frowned, and turned to her. There was worry in his eyes that hadn’t
been there during the battle on the roof or their escape from the
alley.

“Is
something wrong?” she said and his silence and the confusion mixing
with the fear in his eyes told her there was.

Amelia
looked at his shoulders, remembering the two long slits in the back
of his armour.

He hadn’t
expected to fall.

Just what
had he expected to happen?

***

Chapter 7

Amelia
walked through the dark London streets in a dream, distant from the
world around her, her focus split. One half was turned inwards as
she struggled to comprehend everything that had happened and make
sense of it. The other half was fixed on Marcus where he walked
close beside her, his hand firmly gripping hers, steady and strong.
She followed him without question, relying on him to help her
understand the things she had seen and what was happening to
her.

She
hadn’t lied when she had said that she trusted him. He had fought
for her and she hoped that meant he was on her side. She held on to
that belief, using it to keep her niggling fear of Marcus at bay.
He wouldn’t hurt her. He had promised to protect her and he had
done just that, and she was safe with him.

People
passed them in the busy street, coming and going between the late
night stores and places unknown to her. None of them even glanced
at Marcus, which led her to wonder if they could see what she
could.

Did they
see a beautiful man wearing blue armour that was moulded like
muscles, a warrior splattered with blood and grim in
appearance?

Or did
they see whatever she saw whenever she happened to catch their
reflection in a window?

The
normal Marcus.

The one
she had been foolishly falling for.

In his
reflection, he appeared to be wearing a pale shirt and dark jeans,
dressed as though he was going out for the evening to somewhere
casual, like a pub or a relaxed dinner in a restaurant.

Was it
some kind of magic? She had never believed in such things before,
but she was finding it difficult to deny the possibility of
anything anymore. Those creatures Marcus had killed had been like
demons from fairytales, a bright white light had caused one to
disappear, and Marcus had donned armour in the blink of an eye.
Anything seemed possible at the moment, even if she couldn’t quite
bring herself to believe it was real.

She
slowly brought her gaze back to him.

If it was
magic and the people passing them by saw the Marcus she did when
she looked in the windows, why wasn’t she seeing that when she
looked at him?

When she
looked at him directly, the armour was there, barely covering his
muscular body, and two deadly curved silver blades hung from his
waist, shifting with him as he walked, his strides purposeful and
intent.

Amelia
hadn’t asked where they were going.

Since
leaving the rooftop of the second building, Marcus had been silent
and pensive, his grip on her hand unrelenting. She was glad of
that. It was her anchor in the storm of her confusion and the
whirlwind of emotions inside her. She clung to it, afraid to
surrender it in case everything turned crazy again. As long as she
was holding his hand, his long slender fingers locked tightly
between hers, then she was safe.

Marcus
would protect her.

His eyes
briefly met hers and then he blinked and they were fixed ahead
again, focused on the distance. The worry that had been in them
after his leap from the roof with her was still there, and the
question still burned on her tongue, desiring to be
said.

What had
he expected to happen?

There
were so many other things that she wanted to ask him too. Was he a
good man? Was he going to hurt her? His warning came back to her
and she couldn’t ignore it. He had told her to stay away from him
and that he wasn’t good for her. Was this why?

What was
he?

“This
way,” he whispered, so quiet that she barely heard him, and then
turned with her down a beautiful tree-lined avenue. The pale
streetlights shone down on the path, highlighting expensive cars
and the narrow front gardens of the townhouses. They had walked a
long way from their own neighbourhood and her feet had started to
blister over an hour ago but she hadn’t said anything because she
hadn’t wanted to draw Marcus’s attention or her own to her
bloodstained shoes, but now she had to stop. She couldn’t take
another step.

Marcus
stopped with her and she could feel his eyes on her as she lifted
one foot and rubbed her toes through the thin pale material of her
shoes. He released her hand and she made a reach for his, not
wanting to let go of him, but he evaded her and crouched before
her, one knee against the pavement and the other raised, as though
he was proposing. He carefully took hold of her ankle, removed her
shoe, and rested her bare foot on his hard thigh. His warmth seeped
into her and she stared at the long cut across his muscles just
millimetres from her toes, feeling guilty inside that she was
making a fuss over a few blisters and sore spots when he was
injured.

The gash
on his thigh was deep, a thick valley that looked black in the
streetlights. The blood around it had dried but there were damp
spots that sparkled, marking places where the wound had
reopened.

Tearing
her gaze away, she watched Marcus as he touched the toe of her shoe
that he held and then looked down at her other one.

“What
happened?” He looked up at her, and for a moment she felt like
Cinderella as he held her slipper out to her. “There is blood on
your shoes.”

“That
thing… when you…” What did she say? She wanted to phrase it
delicately in case she had just imagined it. Her eyes darted to his
chest armour and she drew a deep breath. She wasn’t insane.
“Chopped its head off… I… I think I was in shock.”

“I didn’t
mean for this—” He cut himself off and she nodded, seeing the rest
of his words in his eyes and feeling them in her heart. He had
wanted to protect her and not let anything happen to her, not even
something as minor as a bloodied pair of shoes. She smiled to
reassure him and took her foot down from his thigh, and then eased
down to kneel before him and tentatively reached out. He stilled
right down to his breathing when she touched his thigh near the
wound. For some reason, touching him, laying her fingers on his
bloodstained flesh, made it all seem real.

Marcus
was hurt, and it was all her fault.

“We
should get this seen to,” she said absently and then her vision
blurred and she frowned. It cleared when she blinked, sending hot
tears running down her cheeks. Her fingers trembled against him and
her strength faded again, leaving her weak and afraid. Raising her
head, she looked right into his eyes, silently asking him for
something. She wasn’t sure what she needed. Reassurance. Comfort.
His strength? “Marcus…”

She was
in his arms before another heartbeat had passed, her forehead
pressed against his neck, her cheek resting on the cold hard edge
of his armour. The buckles of the leather straps over his shoulders
that held his breastplate and back plate together jabbed into her
face but she didn’t care. She broke down, surrendering to the
pressing wave of emotions inside her and the weight of everything
that had happened. She had always been strong, capable, the
dependable one who everyone looked to in times of sorrow, but here
in his arms she couldn’t be that woman. With a soft caress and a
promise to keep her safe murmured against her cheek, he stripped
away her strength right down to her heart and left her quaking in
his arms, afraid to come out in case the beasts had returned and
she was in danger again.