Chapter Three
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MONICA FELT LIKE AN idiot for letting herself get trapped in the cul-de-sac.
She didn’t know this area very well and now she was in serious trouble.
Everything seemed to come to a halt for a few moments when the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen in her twenty-five years stepped into her view.
It was obvious he was attracted to her when his towel began to rise.
Her brain was still trying to catch up as she watched the almost naked warrior cut all but two of her former friends down.
His magical gold and silver sword vanished and he swept her into his arms like a hero out of a romance book.
Then her fantasy that she was actually asleep and dreaming was ripped away when the evil aliens turned up.
Monica had sensed the extraterrestrials before and had even been close enough to feel their black souls once.
That had been enough to convince her to leave Hell’s Kitchen.
Nazab felt similar to the red-eyed demons, but his soul was white.
Hearing him confirm he was a good guy was enough for her to loan him some of her strength.
Nazab took a deep breath when she infused him with her life force.
Turning towards one of the houses that blocked their way, he blasted into action.
She held on for dear life as the warrior jumped up onto a tall brick fence and launched them both into the air.
He landed on the tiled roof of the house and took a running leap onto the roof of the house it backed up to.
Monica looked over his shoulder, but their enemies had no chance of following them.
Not when he was moving so fast that the wind made her eyes tear up.
The white towel that had been around her rescuer’s waist was left behind in the initial burst of movement.
She didn’t dare look down to see if he was still erect.
It would be disastrous to ruin his concentration right now if she started laughing at him.
Peering through slitted eyes, she watched the homes blur past them as they left the Bronx far behind.
Nazab sprinted for two hours before the energy she’d loaned him abruptly ran out.
She had plenty of time to examine the tattoo on his chest of a sword and fancy-looking wings that flanked it on either side.
Apart from introducing themselves, they hadn’t spoken much.
The warrior tripped over something and they both went sprawling to the ground. Monica shielded her face with her arms as she slammed into the asphalt and rolled over and over.
Nazab didn’t roll as far as she did. He looked up and saw the now empty left leg of her jeans.
His head turned and he saw her sneaker lying several yards away.
It had landed on a large rock, which elevated it enough that he couldn’t see what it was attached to.
His look of intense horror was enough to make her break into snickers.
“Your leg!” he exclaimed, probably thinking she was crying in agony.
Her shallow bullet wounds had faded during the long sprint, but now she had fresh scrapes and bruises.
“I’m fine,” she said, still giggling as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “My prosthesis came loose. It happens all the time.”
The blank look on his face made her lose it again. “You have a prosthetic leg?” he asked as he climbed to his feet. He loped over to the metal contraption and picked it up. “This is ingenious,” he marveled, reminding her that he’d just arrived from outer space.
“Hand it over, big guy,” Monica commanded, trying to ignore his magnificent nakedness and failing miserably. “We need to get you some clothes,” she muttered.
“I lost my towel,” he realized, coming to a stop beside her. Turning his back in an effort to shield his shaft from her view, he presented her with his perfect butt instead. “Here,” he said, handing the prosthetic leg to her.
“Thanks,” Monica said, then put it on the ground.
She rolled her jeans up and quickly reattached the contraption to her leg.
Rolling her jeans down again hid the prosthesis from view.
“Give me a hand up?” she requested, holding her hand out.
Some people couldn’t deal with amputees like her.
Their revulsion used to cut her to the quick when she’d been a kid, but she could shrug it off easily now.
Nazab glanced at her over his shoulder and held his hand out. The look in his deep brown eyes was anything but repulsed. “How did you lose your leg, female?” he asked. “Why didn’t you heal from your injury?”
“You can’t heal what you no longer have,” Monica said, letting go of his huge hand once he’d hauled her to her feet. Giving him so much of her energy had worn her out. “It’s late and I need to crash,” she said, covering a yawn with her hand. She could tell him her life story in the morning.
“I require rest as well,” Nazab said. His short brown hair and beard were damp and his skin was glistening with water droplets. Most had dried from his long sprint.
“I have no idea where we are,” she realized, looking around to see they were no longer in the suburbs. They appeared to be in a semi-rural area now. “How far did you run?” she asked in shock.
Nazab shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve never run that fast before.”
“At least the evil aliens won’t be able to find us in a hurry,” she figured. Turning from the road, she spied a distant house. “Can I trust you, Nazab?” she asked, looking him squarely in the eyes.
“You can trust me with your life, female,” he said solemnly. “I have a feeling our destinies are linked. You saved us both by loaning me your energy.”
Monica had a lot of questions, but they were both far too tired to talk in depth.
She would recover by morning and hopefully so would he.
She just hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by trusting yet another stranger.
His soul was white instead of gray, which was extremely rare for an adult.
She couldn’t remember ever meeting a grownup with a pure soul before.
“Come on,” she said and began walking towards the house. “I hope we can find some clothes in your size in this place,” she said with a tired smirk.
“I doubt it,” Nazab said ruefully. “Humans don’t tend to grow to six foot six very often.”
“I dated a guy who was almost your size before the Rapture,” she said and he instantly scowled. “But he wasn’t as handsome as you,” she added just to see what his reaction would be. He smiled smugly and angled his body away in a pathetic attempt to pretend she hadn’t just made him even harder.
The house was empty when Monica scanned it from the road. “I’ll scope it out first,” Nazab said, holding up his hand to stop her when she went to step onto the driveway.
“If you feel you have to,” she said, then yawned again. She was so tired she was having trouble keeping her eyes open.
Nazab loped over to the house and checked the front door.
It was locked, but the garage was empty.
She figured the former owners had driven to their local church on the night of the Rapture.
A lot of religious people had been given a magical signal, or their preachers had called them to their places of worship.
“At least we won’t have to sleep in beds people died in or vanished from,” she murmured.
The front door opened a couple of minutes later and Nazab waved at her. He’d wrapped a blanket around his waist, which was a shame. She’d happily gaze at his perfect body all night long.
Snickering at her thoughts, Monica trudged to the house, too exhausted to run the short distance.