Domiel by Dawn McClure Page A

she’d been in when she’d fallen asleep. He’d moved her without waking her in the process. Well, damn. That was impressive. She must have been more exhausted than she’d thought.
    His big body was cramped on the recliner. One long leg trailed off the end of the chair, the other dangled off an armrest. A thin, blue blanket was wrapped up around his chest, his muscular arms tugging it until it was bunched under his neck. A shadow of stubble covered the lower half of his striking face. He looked uncomfortable as hell, and her heart melted just a tiny bit.
    Why hadn’t he just taken the bed in the master bedroom? It wasn’t as though he could watch her in his sleep, anyway. Answer: he just didn’t trust her.
    She left him lying on the chair, snatched her sweater from the floor, and went to find something to eat. She wasn’t built to relax when a job needed to be done. At least she only had a few more hours left, and then she could go to the club and wait for Lexie’s call, because flying blind wasn’t her forte.
    She wiggled into the turtleneck, then rummaged through the fridge, finally settling on making a sandwich from a few scraps of lunch meat and cheese.
    Domiel was still sleeping when she finished eating. She let him sleep, figuring they had nothing better to do anyway. She contemplated running, but he hadn’t shown any sign of going back on his word. Why complicate things now? When the time came for him to bring her back, she’d cross that bridge. He wouldn’t like it if she truly had to fight him. He’d lose.
    Two small bags of chips, one diet coke, five cookies, and three excruciatingly long hours later he finally started stretching. His hand went straight to his crotch.
    She cocked an eyebrow and settled back on the couch as he went through his testosterone-induced morning process, or in this case, his evening process. An adjustment, a stretch, another adjustment, and soon enough he’d tented his jeans with his erection.
    He cracked an eyelid and leaned up to look at her. “What time is it?”
    His morning voice sent her hormones skyrocketing. Unusually deep and scratchy, it was sexy as hell. Not happening. “About six thirty at night. We need to get ready to go.” Actually, it looked as though he was as ready as he could get.
    “Give me fifteen minutes.”
    He snapped the recliner to the upright position and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the shower running and couldn’t help but fantasize about him naked. He was so sexual in nature. There were times that she’d envied him his freedom to do whatever he liked with whoever caught his attention. They had names for men like him. Rake. Bad boy. Casanova. Weird though, he’d been none of those things since she’d been alone with him.
    Weirder was the fact that she was still wondering why he wasn’t. Domiel wasn’t her type. Yeah, he was a demon, and she tended to go for the fallen, but he was too arrogant for her tastes. Well, he used to be, at any rate. He’d walk around Headquarters like he owned the place—and all the women in it.
    Since they’d been stuck together he’d been … practically devoid of emotion.
    True to his word, fifteen minutes later he was walking out of the bathroom. “I’m finished.”
    The scent of soap wafted through the living room when he appeared, shattering her thoughts. Usually sexually charged, he now seemed thoughtful and quiet. Again she caught him looking at a family photo on the wall, and wondered what in the hell he found so interesting about it. Was it because he’d never had a mother and father? Angels had been created, and right from their first day contained knowledge of everything. Was he contemplating what innocence felt like?
    Had he wondered what sex was like before or after he’d fallen, and that was why he’d whored it around the Alliance? Who was she to pass judgment, anyway? She hadn’t been faithful to her husband when she was human. If she’d worn Domiel’s ring, instead of