Possessing the Witch. Elle James
over her shoulder, but as soon as she moved it, he jerked, growling like a rabid animal, his teeth peeled back over sharp incisors. With her head down to get the arm over her shoulder, Deme didn’t see the pointed fangs.
But Selene did. Her stomach flip-flopped and she ducked her head to avoid Deme’s gaze. “Just get an arm around his waist and help me haul him to the stairs.” To him she said, “Could you manage to stay with us long enough to help yourself down a flight of stairs?”
“Must get below,” he said through gritted teeth.
“That’s where we’re going, just help us get you there.” Selene glanced across at her sister. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are.” Deme’s arm tightened around his waist.
Selene stepped forward at the same time as Deme.
The man between them lurched and stiffened, then a low rumble rose in his chest.
“Either stop growling, or I’ll drop you here and leave you on the pavement,” Selene threatened, her voice sharp, her back straining under his weight.
“You go, sister.” Deme grunted, easing toward the building and the next hurdle. The steps.
The rumbling abated, but his grip tightened around Selene. He snorted. “And I thought you were an angel come to rescue me.”
Deme laughed out loud.
Selene shot an angry glare at her before she responded. “Hardly. I’ll be your worst nightmare before this night is over.” She shuddered thinking of how she needed to clean his wound and how painful it would be for him. She guessed he wouldn’t like it in the least.
When they reached the narrow stairs leading down into the basement apartment of the shop, Deme laid the man’s hand on the rail and moved down the steps in front of him. “The stairs aren’t wide enough for three. You’ll have to help yourself down the stairs, big guy.”
The man groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the hand on the rail turning white with the strength of his grip.
Selene turned his face toward her and tried to probe his mind.
His chaotic thoughts were a jumble of pain, darkness and overwhelming sadness.
Unable to bear the ache and sorrow, Selene jerked out of his head and swayed.
“What is it?” Deme asked.
“Nothing. I just can’t read his mind.” She could sense emotions and pain, but not thoughts or words. She’d have to use other means to get through to him. “Listen, mister, if you want to get off the street and lie down, you have to help me get you down these stairs. Do you hear me?”
He moaned and leaned heavily on her.
“Wake up.” She shook his good shoulder. “I need your help.”
“No angel,” he muttered, his eyes opening.
“I’ll be the devil himself if that’s what it takes to get you down those steps. Now, move!”
Deme chuckled. “Didn’t know you had it in you, sis. Sure you don’t want me to get him down here? I’m bigger than you are.”
“I got him.” Selene fished in her pocket for her keys and tossed them to Deme.
Her sister hurried down in front of Selene and the stranger to open the door to the little apartment.
Straining against his weight, Selene stepped down first. In a combination of deliberate steps and clumsy falling, she got him down the short flight so quickly he slammed into the door frame.
The big man roared, his eyes flashing open, exposing deep, tawny gold irises, like a lion.
Selene gasped.
“What?” Deme leaned past the man to stare out at her sister. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, no.” Selene couldn’t meet her sister’s gaze. “Let’s get him to the bedroom.” No need to worry her sister. Especially when she wanted her to leave as soon as she got the injured man settled. If Deme had seen what Selene had, she’d have this man out of her apartment so fast his head would be spinning more than it was already.
By the time they reached her antique cast-iron bed, the man teetered on the verge of passing out. He was more a dead weight than a help. Or that’s how he felt to Selene, bearing the brunt of his weight. He leaned toward the bed, but she held on.
“Not yet. You’re soaked to the skin.” Selene pushed him toward Deme. “Hold him up while I get his clothes off.”
“You’re going to strip a stranger?” Deme asked.
“You want the honors?” Selene quipped. “He’s not lying in my bed in those wet, smelly clothes.”
“Why is he going to lie in your bed? I’m not liking this arrangement, Selene. You don’t know this guy. He could be a serial killer.”
“I can’t leave him on the streets, Deme.” Though her back hurt, she held on to the man. “Look, if it makes you feel better. I can sense that he won’t hurt me.”
Deme’s lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. “You said you couldn’t read his mind.”
“I can’t read his individual thoughts, but I can tell he’s harmless to me.”
Deme stared hard at her sister. “I’m not convinced, but I’ll hold on while you do the stripping. I don’t think Cal would be thrilled to know I’d stripped a strange man.” She took over by sliding beneath the arm Selene had been holding him up by. “Just hurry. He weighs a ton.”
The man groaned, his knees buckling.
Selene helped Deme straighten him, then she went back to work, reaching for the waistband of his trousers. She wasn’t a virgin, but removing a strange man’s tattered pants was...well...disturbing. She quickly flicked the buttons loose and stripped the damp trousers down thick muscular legs coated with a fine layer of tawny hairs.
Her heartbeat quickened when she realized he wore nothing beneath his trousers.
Breath caught in her throat and she hurriedly removed his pants, setting them in a pile on the floor.
“Holy smokes, the man is hung like a frickin’ horse!” Deme grunted and almost fell over. “Damn, I think he’s out again. It’s all I can do to hold him up.” She shifted his weight, leaning hard to keep him up.
With her heart already beating a rapid tattoo inside her body, Selene hoped Deme wouldn’t mention the man’s nakedness again. Her older sister couldn’t be happy about this stranger being totally nude in her sister’s bed. She’d never leave him alone with Selene at this rate.
Selene knew, by way of her “gift,” that she had to get Deme out of the apartment before she tried to clean this man’s wounds. Something about him screamed danger. But not necessarily a danger to her. Those eyes, that growling and the roar, were only the beginning, she feared.
Deme wouldn’t understand. She didn’t have the gift of spirit like Selene.
Trousers off, completely naked, the man swayed. Selene helped Deme maneuver him to the bed, where they sat him on the edge and laid him back gently, lifting his feet up onto the mattress. Once settled, Selene pulled the sheet up over his legs and hips.
Selene went to work on the padding she’d tied over the wound, pulling it carefully over his shoulders, easing the fabric caked in sticky blood loose from his injury.
He sat straight up, his hand reaching up to grasp hers in a surprisingly strong grasp.
“Easy now. We have to clean it so that it doesn’t get infected,” she said in a stern but gentle tone.
His grip loosened, his hand falling to his side. Golden eyes, glassy with pain, stared at her before they rolled back in his head again,