Page 7 of Far From Center
“Get out. Get out of my room.” Her voice held authority, but there was a note of fear to it.
It would be best to take advantage of that fear. “Not until you take this thing off my neck.”
She licked her lips, eyes darting to the object in question, then back to his face when he took another step. As he slowly approached, she maneuvered her position to put the glass topped table between them, dancing lightly on her feet to change directions depending on his movements. Well, this was interesting. They could spend all day running around the table, or he could do something…unexpected.
Grabbing the cereal box, he tossed it at her head and watched her bat it away with the frying pan. Clearly that wasn’t unexpected enough.
“Take this thing off of me, and I’ll leave. I would never hurt you.”
Her eyes widened. “You threw a box of Fruit Loops at me. How is that not hurting me? Besides, demons lie.”
That box wouldn’t have done anything beyond distract her. Worst case, she’d have gotten a paper cut. It’s not as though he really was trying to harm her. Wait —demons lie? She thought he was a demon?
“I’m not a demon! I’m a–”
“Liar,” she shrieked and darted for the door.
Gabriel vaulted the table, sending the books he’d just neatly stacked onto the floor. He couldn’t let her get away and leave him here with this…thisthingon his neck.
She was fast, and he was uncharacteristically slow. Instead of grabbing her like he planned, the angel fell short, wrapping his arms around her thighs. She twisted as she crashed to the ground, the frying pan clattering on the floor as he landed on top of her, his face smashed into her lap.
It was a nice lap, soft and warm, smelling of lotion, soap, and something that caused his breath to catch and blood to rush downward…somewhere. Before he had time to contemplate the odd sensation, the woman screamed, struggling to get out from under him. He tightened his grip, unwilling to let her go even when she began pulling his hair and slapping the sides of his face.
“Let me go, you sick pervert. Get off me!”
Again there was that edge of fear in her voice.
“I won’t hurt you. Just take this off my neck and I promise I won’t harm you.” He wouldn’t. He’d just wipe her memories after getting her to tell him where the scroll was. That wasn’t hurting her at all.
Instead of complying, she twisted and scooted. Gabriel squeezed his arms around the woman’s thighs and held on. All this wiggling around was doing weird things to his body. Or maybe it was because of the repeated blows from the frying pan. Either way, if the blood didn’t go back up to his brain where it belonged, Gabriel feared he might pass out.
For some odd reason, passing out with his face in this woman’s lap seemed like a splendid idea to him. But not to the girl, evidently. He felt her strain, reaching for something, then hard metal clanged against his head, knocking him sideways off of her. Stunned from the blow, he looked up and saw a vision. Her Rapunzel-length blonde hair billowed around her, light reflecting off it as if she had a halo. Her tank top was askew, revealing far more than she’d probably intended when she put it on. Her shorts had completely come off in their tussle, and he saw a scrap of pink lace riding low on her hips.
Oh. That’s what those tiny pants were. They looked very pretty on her. They smelled nice too, although he was certain it was her that had smelled so nice and not the bit of fabric. And now there was no blood left in his brain whatsoever. It had abandoned every other portion of his body to rush into something between his legs. Something that was making his pants very uncomfortable.
Gabriel looked up into the woman’s eyes, seeing a spark there that drew him in. Her eyes were like the sea, shifting and changing, so full of life. They were beautiful eyes.
“Take this off me. I’m not a demon,” he slurred, the pain in his head affecting his speech. She made a ‘hmpf’ noise.
“Liar.”
Then she brought the frying pan down on his head one final time, and the world went black.
