She's No Faerie Princess Read Free Page B

pretty nasty. He dealt efficiently with her laces andtugged the boots off, setting them aside under the coffeetable. Without the heavy covering, her feet looked tinyand fragile beneath their veil of sheer black stockings,which were dotted with blood around her left ankle. Thedemon's claws hadn't bitten deeply, thanks to the leather,but the punctures would need a thorough cleaning.
    His gaze moved up the length of her slim, graceful legs,which did totally inappropriate things to his libido, but theyappeared to be free of further injury. The only otherwound he could see was a slash across her stomach,and that was the injury that worried him. Carefully, hereached out to lift aside the hems of her skimpy tanktops, one eye on her face to be sure she hadn't wokenup. Her eyelashes didn't even flutter, and her expressionremained tranquil. Walker wished he could say the samefor himself, but one good look at the ragged gash in herpale, freckled skin had him cursing a blue streak andgritting his teeth against the urge to howl in anger.
    The cut bled sluggishly, much less than he would haveexpected, but it looked nasty all the same, with jaggededges darkened to black by the poison on the demon'sclaws. Jaw clenching, he dropped her hem and headedstraight for the first-aid supplies in his bathroom. On theway back, he paused in the bedroom to grab a pair of

    jeans and ease himself into them. No reason to scare her to death by having her wake up eye to eye with the part of him most anxious to make her acquaintance.
    He stepped back into the living room with his hands full ofdisinfectant and bandages, and he froze. The blue-hairedpunk he'd left on his sofa had been replaced by a dark-haired goddess with skin like whipped cream and a tornand tattered gown of a fabric so light, if it hadn't been forthe pale lilac color, he couldn't have sworn it evenexisted. The clothes she had been wearing haddisappeared, and she slept on as if nothing hadhappened. Now he had proof she wasn't quite human. Awitch, maybe? That would explain her humanappearance, since technically witches were humans whojust happened to have evolved the ability to use magic,and a spell fading would explain the change in herappearance. At least, he thought it would. He wasn't allthat up on the rules of magic.
    And none of the rules he had heard before explained whythe very scent of her made him want to strip her nakedand introduce himself to her womb, up close andpersonal.
    Forcing his mind off his crotch, he returned to the sofaand knelt on the floor at her side. Her wounds tookprecedence over his curiosity at the moment. Until he didfind out who and what she was, he'd be better off treatingher injuries than speculating about the effect she had onhim. When she woke up, he'd get his answers.
    Still, he was frowning as he poured disinfectant liberallyonto a sterile pad. He parted the cut in her dress, rippingit slightly wider to get at the injury. When he pressed the

    cotton to her skin, the muscles in her stomach clenched
    reflexively, and he heard a soft gasp whisper between
    her lips. His gaze shot immediately to her face, but her
    expression remained relaxed and tempting in sleep.
    Reluctantly, he looked back at his task, only to see that
    the wound in her abdomen appeared to be a lot less
    serious than he'd thought, now that he'd cleared the dried
    blood and dirt away. In fact, it almost looked as if it had
    begun healing even before he'd washed it.
    Oh, this wasn't good.
    Swallowing a curse, Walker leaned back from hisunconscious guest and took a really good look at her. One that had his stomach sinking into his toenails. Hetook in the moonlight-pale, velvet-smooth skin, themiraculously healing wounds, the magically transformedappearance, and saw that his bad day had just gotten ahell of a lot worse.
    "Aw, shit."
    Muttering to himself and whatever god currently watchedand laughed at his predicament, Walker took a deep,bracing breath, eased his hands into the tumbled mass