Beyond the Veil by Pippa DaCosta Page A

a cut over your right eye. I was just … Never mind. ” He returned to the little kitchen and stood with his back to me. I caught the memory of his wings and averted my eyes. He hadn ’ t looked like any demon I ’ d ever seen before. He ’ d looked … glorious.
    He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, letting it slip down his back then peeled the fabric away from the jagged gash in his side. A fragment of metal protruded from his skin with blood oozing around its sharp edges. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the shard and yanked it free with a hiss.
    “ Thank you, ” I said, trying not to wince in sympathy. “ You didn ’ t have to do any of that for me. ”
    He grunted an acknowledgement and tossed the bloodied fragment of metal in the kitchen sink where it rattled. Finding some paper towels, he tore a few sheets free of the roll then dampened them before pressing the wad of paper against the weeping wound.
    He turned, leaning back against the countertop. I admired his physique before I could stop myself. I might have glanced away if a tattoo hadn ’ t caught my eye. On the muscular plain of his navel where his jeans hung low, two entwined scorpions had been tattooed into his smooth skin. I couldn ’ t help staring. So many questions went through my mind, but I wasn ’ t sure I had the energy to ask, knowing the answers wouldn ’ t be easy. Exhausted, bruised, and battered, I didn ’ t want any part of this madness. I wanted to go home, but didn ’ t even have one anymore.
    “ Will you let me take a look at that cut? ” he asked after allowing me a few moments to collect my thoughts.
    I shook my head. “ Stay away from me. ”
    “ Fine. ” He tore off more paper towels and proceeded to clean himself up while I watched. I wanted to hate him. Ever since he ’ d entered my workshop, everything had gone wrong. That wasn ’ t a coincidence, and yet I was beginning to believe he didn ’ t want to hurt me. I couldn ’ t have survived what we ’ d just been through without him.
    “ You were right, ” I perched on the edge of the couch, hands clasped together on my thighs, knuckles white. “ They were sent for me. ”
    He gave me a cool glance before returning his attention to the wound. “ You have many enemies, Muse. ”
    “ But you aren ’ t one of them? ”
    “No.”
    “ Akil said you were. ”
    Stefan snorted. “ Akil. Right. ” He rummaged through some drawers and found a small tube of Loctite. “ I could use your help … if you can stand to be within two feet of me. ”
    I stood and approached him. Considering everything he had done, I could hardly say no. “ What do you want me to do? ”
    He handed me the glue. “ Would you mind? ”
    I looked at the small tube then at the two inch wound in his side. “ Really? ” His arched eyebrow told me to get on with it. I pinched the lid free and tentatively touched the nozzle to the puckered flesh around the wound.
    He immediately hissed in a breath. I winced. “ Sorry. ”
    “ No, I ’ m good. Just …” He planted both hands on the edge of the countertop, bowing his head, and smiled. “ You ’ re hot. ”
    I blinked. “ Huh? ”
    “ I mean — your touch — it ’ s hot, physically. ” He laughed lightly, a trickling chuckle that summoned a reluctant smile from me. “ Never mind. ”
    I pinched the wound together, watching lean muscles ripple with tension. Fighting a smile, I squeezed the glue into the wound and held the skin closed for a few seconds. “ Best not glue myself to you, huh? I ’ m not sure how I ’ d explain that to Akil. ”
    “ Do you love him? ”
    I frowned. The abrupt question caught me off guard. “ That ’ s personal. ”
    Stefan looked right at me, his smile gone. “ I need to know the answer. ” His cold stare could have pierced stone.
    “ Why? ”
    He hesitated, his sharp blue eyes searching my puzzled expression. “ Because if you do, then it makes my task all the more difficult, and I need your