Free Fallen Angels 05 - Possession by J.R. Ward Page B

exposed to more trauma. And yet even with that hanging over him … he wasn’t sure it was enough to keep him from ripping that demon limb from limb.

    The cold, clear air felt good on Cait’s face, her sinuses tingling, her mind clearing. It had been hot in the café—and not just because of the body heat from the crowd.
    You’ve made my night.
    She shook her head. “Stop it.”
    Unfortunately, the command was oh, so easy to follow: In the work of a moment, thanks to all kinds of heavily forged neuropathways, her mother’s religious narrative took over, mowing down the nice fact that a very attractive man had asked for her number—not because she’d dressed inappropriately or said anything provocative or behaved badly. Not even necessarily for sex. It was just two adults who might get to know each other better and see where things took them.
    Cait struggled against the tide, but she was tired … and yes, ma’am, being guilty for no good reason at all was a custom-made hair shirt. Fit her just perfectly.
    Then again, across town, a family was in mourning. And her response? Go out and get her hair done, and cap the night off flirting with a stranger.
    Real classy.
    As she hoofed it down the shallow alley and entered the rear parking lot, other stragglers were also going for their rides, the women talking in quick bursts, like the afterburn of those songs and that singer was still revving them up. In contrast, Cait felt totally apart from them, in spite of the fact that they’d all seen the same performance and been in the same mind-set inside the café.
    She spent a lot of years walking this stretch of isolation.
    By the time she came up to her car, the temperature had gone from refreshing to chilly, and she made fast work of the unlock-and-open thing. Getting in, she shivered as she shut the door, and immediately hit the
start
button. Heat, heat would be good, but … shoot, it was going to be a while coming: Three other cars had their white reverse lights on and were inching around, trying to navigate the cramped space. All at the same time.
    She was going to be stuck in place for a while…
    Later, she would wonder what exactly had made her turn her head to the left. Not a sound, no. Or a flash of movement. Or anything of outward significance.
    But sure as if someone had called her name, her head swiveled and her eyes searched the darkness.
    There was a truck parked next to her, a rough, rangy vehicle that seemed like it belonged more in farm and forest territory than at a city-dweller café. And behind its wheel, sitting with eerie stillness, was a man. A big man.
    She could not see his face, but his sharp profile cut through the ambient glow of the lot’s security lights, carving a black path through the illumination. His head was nearly shaved, his brow heavy, as if he were frowning, his hard chin giving the clear impression that “uncompromising” was probably not just something he was familiar with, but an operating principle.
    The other thing she noticed? His shoulders were tremendous, although that was likely some kind of coat or something against the cold.
    Without warning, his head whipped around.
    She could see nothing of his eyes, but oh, God … she felt them crossing the distance, doing away with the car doors, melting through the glass, tearing down any and every barrier between them.
    Cait told herself to look away. Pointed out that the idea there was any kind of connection was ridiculous. Made a list of all the reasons that women who lived alone should never, ever encourage strange men—especially ones who were built like that.
    Wait, she wasn’t encouraging anything—
    Oh, really? Then why hadn’t she looked away, backed away, driven off? ’Cause those other cars had left and the lot was clear.
    The man went for his door.
    Before she knew what was happening, he got out of his truck and prowled around the front of it, his huge body moving like…
    Maybe the word was … erotic.
    Take out