Free Her Guardian Angel 4-Her Angel Series by Felicity Heaton Page A

might
happened when he finally took a sip of the wine. Blood whooshed
through his ears, drowning out all sound as he stared at the
innocent looking pink liquid in the glass. Alcohol released
inhibitions. It would be a good way of lowering his guard so he
could grow closer to Amelia and gain her trust.
    Marcus
lifted it to his lips and breathed in, catching the fiery hint of
alcohol in its scent, and then continued. The moment it passed his
lips, a shiver raced down his spine and along his arms, and heat
followed it down his throat.
    The
effect was instantaneous. He had spent the whole day thinking over
his mission and had ignored his body’s cries for nourishment,
leaving him ravenous and his stomach empty. The wine rocketed
straight to his head, sending it spinning, and a second sip only
made the situation worse, lessening his control over his
body.
    His eyes
widened in alarm when his wings pushed for freedom and he
concentrated hard in an attempt to contain them and stop them from
tearing through his navy shirt.
    “I’ll be
just a minute.” He rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and
turned to face the white vanity unit and the large rectangular
mirror above it on the wall.
    Marcus
set his glass down and fumbled with it, almost knocking his wine
down the sink, and then turned the cold tap on so fast that he had
to dash to his right to avoid the spray of water that bounced off
the porcelain, threatening to douse his crotch. With a grimace, he
turned the tap down to a steady flow and splashed the water on his
face. His wings pushed again and he ached with the desire to strip
off his shirt and unleash them for a moment, to surrender to his
desire to beat them and shed his mortal appearance.
    He
couldn’t.
    Not only
could Amelia end up seeing them, ruining any chance of gaining her
trust, but he might not want to put them away again. He couldn’t
spend the whole evening in the bathroom.
    His
stomach growled and he pressed his damp hand against it.
    If
tonight was going to be anything near to a success, he needed to
eat and soon, but there was nothing in his apartment. He had
promised Amelia dinner. Even if she was kind enough to offer her
own groceries, he wouldn’t know how to cook her anything. He had
never used a stove for anything other than warming basic
foodstuffs, such as soup and other items that came in neat little
cans with clear instructions on the labels.
    This
whole plan was ridiculously flawed.
    His head
turned again and he reached for his wine, taking a greedy gulp of
it in the hope that it would dull his senses enough that his wings
would relent and he would forget his desire to fly off
somewhere.
    With
Amelia.
    That was
a thought.
    He looked
into the mirror at the reflection of the white door behind him.
Water dripped from the tip of his nose and rolled off his jaw. His
heavy breathing filled the silence.
    How would
a human react to the sight of his wings and the knowledge that
angels existed? If she knew what he was, he wouldn’t be deceiving
her and there was a chance that he could convince her that his
reason for being here was to protect her. Would that gain her
trust?
    He
laughed at himself.
    Any sane
mortal would run a mile if they saw an angel.
    She would
never trust him.
    “Are you
feeling alright?” The sound of her voice, soft through the door,
roused a different sort of hunger in him. He stared at the door,
picturing her on the other side, how concerned she would look and
how that caring edge to her expression would only add to her
beauty.
    If
forced, could he seduce her?
    Could it
be called deception if he wanted her too?
    It wasn’t
going to happen.
    Marcus
dried his face on a hand towel, opened the door and smiled at her.
“Never better.”
    She gave
him a hesitant and unconvinced smile in return, and looked past him
at the bathroom, her eyebrows raised high. What was she looking
for? It dawned on him that she thought the wine had made him sick.
He could laugh at that. The one