Free The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2) by Kele Moon Page B

dead.”
    “I’m sorry.” She lowered her gaze at the stark sound of pain in his voice. “Was his name Marc? You were screaming ’bout a Marc.”
    “Marc is my cousin.”
    “Is he gone too?” she asked, because the way he had been screaming it, she thought he might be.
    “No, he’s in prison.”
    “Oh.” She couldn’t hide the wide-eyed look when he turned back to glare at her as if daring her to judge him. “I’m sorry I upset you. I’m sorry ’bout your brother being gone.” She got to her feet and brushed at her nightgown. “And I’m sorry ’bout your cousin too. I’ll leave you alone.”
    She turned to leave, and he groaned out loud as if defeated in some way. “Chica, wait.”
    She turned back to him, trying to keep her eyes on his face, because honestly, he was very distracting in nothing but his underwear, with all those hard, cut muscles bulging and those tattoos on display. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “It was inappropriate to come into your apartment. I thought you were hurt.”
    “I’m having a hard time,” he admitted with a wince. “I’m—” He shook his head. “I’ll get better. It should get better.”
    “Are you sick?” she asked curiously, because he was still shaking like he had a fever.
    “I just—” He looked away. “I’ll find you ice for your shoulder. I’ll go buy some or—”
    “I have ice,” she told him softly. She pushed the strap to her nightgown and looked at her shoulder. It didn’t seem red or swollen. “And I think it’ll be okay.”
    “Does it hurt?”
    She shrugged and glanced back up at him, seeing that his gaze was on her bare shoulder, and the guilt on his handsome face was blatant. “It’s fine, Jesus.”
    “Chu.”
    She frowned. “What?”
    “It’s Chu,” he clarified. “That’s what people call me. That’s my name. Chuito. Most of my friends call me Chu.”
    She winced. “Jules told me your name was Jesus.”
    “It is my name, but no one calls me that. Chuito is a nickname for Jesus in Spanish.”
    “Oh.” She raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t know that.”
    “Why would you?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Are there any other Latinos in this town?”
    “Maria Handover is from Colombia. That’s Latino, right?”
    “How’d a Latina get a name like Handover?”
    “Probably from her husband.” Alaine shrugged. “He’s…white.”
    He grinned, and it made the dark, intense look in his eyes lighten a little. “Like you.”
    “Yes.” She nodded as she smiled back at him. “Like me.”
    “I’m sorry I hurt your arm.” He groaned as he looked back to the fridge. “I feel like mierda. I really didn’t need that.”
    “Can I make you something to eat?” she asked him in concern. “Maybe that’s why you’re shaking.”
    He shook his head. “It’s not why I’m shaking.”
    “I still think you need to eat. Why don’t you come over, and I’ll make you a late dinner.”
    He seemed to hesitate and looked behind him as if still lost. “O-okay.” He nodded after a moment. “We can put ice on your shoulder.”
    “Okay,” she agreed, because he seemed fixated on it. She firmly believed he needed to eat, and if the guilt of her injured shoulder was what got the job done, she could work with that. “Do you want to get dressed?”
    “Yeah.” He looked down at himself, as if remembering he was nearly naked. “I’m sorry.”
    “No, it’s fine. It’s your apartment. I just thought it might help you warm up if you aren’t used to the cold.”
    “I’ll get dressed.” He gestured to his bedroom, still seeming very unsure about the entire situation.
    “I’ll start dinner. Just come in,” she said as she turned to leave. “I’ll keep my door unlocked. Does that work?”
    He nodded. “Sí.”

Chapter Ten
    Alaine wasn’t sure what Chuito would like, but she decided soup was good if he was cold. So she made him tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich, because it was fast.
    She had just put