tone.
“Pretend I’m not here.” Cal turned his back.
It was on the tip of Stella’s tongue to order him out of her room, when it occurred to her that she wouldn’t know if he’d actually gone. It was probably better to have him here, where she could see that glorious expanse of tanned, muscled back while she threw on her shorts and top, than send him away.
“Are you my guardian angel?”
Stella threw herself down on the bed, lying on her back, with her hands laced behind her head. The room was furnished in a traditional Spanish style with walls that were painted in warm, soothing terra-cotta tones. The floor tiles were a mosaic of blue and gold, and carved, dark wood furniture lined the room. A ceiling fan made lazy circles above her head. Cal seemed to debate joining her and then sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, stretching his long legs in front of him. From the angle she had chosen, all Stella could actually see of him now was the lower half of his legs and his bare feet. Just as she decided he wasn’t going to answer the question, he spoke.
“It’s hard for me to answer that because the concept of a guardian angel has been created by humans. Mortals have built a set of rules around something they do not understand because they want to be able to explain it.”
Stella threw a cushion in his general direction. “Answer the bloody question.”
The cushion flew back at her. “In my experience, mortals don’t like it when the response is not what they want to hear.”
Tired of not being able to see him, she moved to the other end of the bed and lay on her stomach so that her face was only inches from his. “Are you being enigmatic to annoy me or are you trying to tell me I’ve got the terminology wrong?”
“Both.”
He grinned and Stella watched in fascination as a dimple danced at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought about, never having been able to get close to him before, but Cal did not conform to the blueprint of physical perfection that should surely be a prerequisite for an angel. It was those minor imperfections—the gap between his front teeth that was a fraction too wide, the tiny star-shaped scar at the corner of his right eye, the unruly lock of hair flopping onto his forehead, the golden-brown stubble—that made him such a stunning-looking man. And that in itself was surely wrong. Weren’t angels meant to be asexual? But, if what he was saying was correct, she needed to unlearn everything she thought she knew about angels.
She linked her hands together and propped her chin on them, enjoying being close to him. It was a strange sensation, like getting to know someone she had been acquainted with all her life. Or coming face-to-face with a pen pal in whom she had confided her most intimate secrets. Getting to know him? Who was she trying to fool? She’d stored up the memory of his face ever since that long-ago moonlit night. Wasn’t falling for your guardian angel forbidden? She frowned, trying to remember the results from the time she’d searched the internet for it. She was fairly sure horrible things would happen to heaven and earth if an angel and a mortal ever made love. Unless that bit wasn’t true? Her heart gave a hopeful little skip. Getting a bit ahead of yourself, Stella, she told herself firmly.
“Are you all right?” Cal’s voice brought her back to reality. “You’ve gone very red.”
“It’s what we humans do in the heat. I did a lot of research about guardian angels. I did it so I would know all about you. Are you telling me it was all wrong?”
She thought the look in the depths of his shimmering eyes became guarded. The laughter and teasing were gone. “Some of it almost certainly was.” His voice was colorless. “Guardian angel or not, can we do what I came here for? Can we talk about how I intend to keep you safe from Moncoya?”
Stella sat up abruptly. “Not this again.”
“Yes, this again.” Cal reached out a hand, but she evaded him.
“I need a cold drink.” Slipping from the bed without another word, Stella left the room and made her way down the stairs.
Cal swore under his breath. He could hear voices from the lower floor, which meant he could go down there only if he was invisible. Invisibility meant he would not be unable to interact with Stella, which in turn meant he could not try to convince her of the danger she was in. Every minute she spent with Moncoya was enabling the faerie king to draw her deeper under his spell. Such was the power the so-called “little people” could wield when they chose. Not that Stella appeared to be in need of much persuasion. Helplessness was a new sensation for Cal. It was not one he relished.
It bothered him that she thought of him as her guardian angel, although, in many ways that was exactly what he had become. Not by choice, and there was certainly nothing angelic about him. His thoughts recoiled from the memories that had led him here. It didn’t matter how he had come to be in this role. Whatever label Stella gave him, his job was to protect her and he couldn’t do that if he stayed up here and couldn’t see what she was doing. Sighing, he followed her.
Cloaked by invisibility, he reached the foot of the stairs and cast a swift glance about the vast room. Stella was standing by the drinks machine, sipping water from a glass. There was no one else around and Cal frowned. He had definitely heard voices. A glance at the glass wall showed him that the panels were closed. Shadowy movement in the dusk beyond the terrace caught Cal’s gaze and he walked over to get a closer look. His attention was diverted as Moncoya entered behind him through the front door. Stella didn’t notice and the faerie king paused, eyeing her rear view appreciatively. Cal couldn’t really blame him. It was a particularly tempting sight.
Moncoya’s embroidered waistcoat hung open over a white dress shirt and he wore skintight black leggings tucked into glossy riding boots. His hair was tied back in a ponytail. Momentarily, Cal caught a glimpse of the yellow ring that lit his eyes. How could Stella not see that there was something fundamentally wrong about this guy?
“Buenas noches.” Moncoya strolled forward and Stella swung around to face him. Although she smiled, there was a touch of nervousness in her expression. Good. I’ve managed to plant at least a seed of doubt, Cal thought. “Something troubles you?” Moncoya’s eyes raked her face.
Stella shook her head. “It’s this heat.” She took another sip from her half-full glass and Moncoya observed the action through narrowed eyes. It was clear to Cal that Stella was uncomfortable. Moncoya, his faerie senses so closely attuned to the feelings of others, would certainly pick up on it.
“Sí, it is very warm. May I?” Moncoya stretched out a hand for the glass. Cal recalled, just in time, that a faerie could claim a mortal for its own by luring the person into sharing food or water. Before Stella could hand over the glass, Cal reached out an invisible hand and snatched it from her. It shattered on the tiled floor.
Stella’s exclamation of shock echoed in the vast space. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I came to be so clumsy.”
“Be careful.” Moncoya spoke mechanically. “Your feet are bare. You must move away from this area while I clear away the glass.”
Biting her lip in chagrin, Stella followed his instruction. Moncoya knelt to collect the shards of glass. He looked up and straight at Cal. Cal froze, even though there was no way Moncoya could possibly see him.
“So the little star has a protector. How sweet.” The ring around Moncoya’s azure eyes gleamed with red fire, the way his sidhe underlings’ eyes did when they skulked under Stella’s bed. His voice was low and feral. “I don’t know who you are, but I can guess who sent you. No matter. A little rivalry adds spice to the conquest.”
With that, he walked over to Stella and slipped a possessive arm about her waist. Cal was left watching in helpless rage as his charge turned an apologetic smile on the faerie king. He weighed his options. Go over and intervene? It would give him great pleasure to sink his fist into