Tempted by Evil by Amber Lynn Natusch, Shannon Morton Page B

muscles in his arms and chest hardened as he pulled the ends of the makeshift tourniquet tighter to stop the bleeding. I winced from the discomfort caused by the pressure and opened my eyes to find him glowering down at me.
    "Can you walk?" he asked as he sighed audibly, extending his left hand out toward me.
    "I think so," I replied quietly, holding my injured arm close to my body and rubbing my forehead with my other hand. "If I could just have a moment to get my bearings?"
    "Think so?" he muttered while raking his hands though his disheveled ebony hair. "Fine."
    As hard as I fought against it, gawking seemed to be inevitable with him around. The fact that he had removed his shirt in order to play hero opposite my damsel-in-distress was not helping. He was intimidating in both demeanor and size, with every muscle in his upper body clearly defined under his perfectly smooth olive skin. His body looked like nothing I'd ever seen before, simultaneously predatory and beautiful, and I found myself unable to look away.
    Seeming restless, he turned toward the trail, exposing a flawless back with thick, bronze shoulders imprinted with some sort of silvery scar. Without thinking, I slowly rose to my feet and reached out my right hand to touch his shoulder just as he turned to face me. He eyed me suspiciously as I let my arm fall quickly to my side.
    "What is it?" I managed to verbalize, despite the fact that my heart was lodged in my throat. "A scar or birthmark?"
    "Come on," was his only response as he scooped me up like I weighed no more than overnight bag.
    I did my best not to move or breathe while he carried me down the path, past the docks, and toward my loft. I was nearly overwhelmed by the proximity of him and having his skin pressed up against me. I could only imagine the kind of penance I would suffer for the feelings I was having.
    Carrying me up the stairs, he placed me gently on my feet while I pulled my key out of my pocket and unlocked my door.
    “Um, thanks for your help,” I said, standing inside the doorframe, my arm cradled into my chest. “How did you know where I lived?”
    “Small town,” was his only response as his gaze moved from my door to my eyes.
    “Would you like to come in?”
    “No,” Merrick replied gruffly. “I should be going. And you should be resting. Your wound isn't as deep as I thought, but it won't close unless you keep it still for a while. Can you manage that? ”
    “Right,” I replied dazedly. “Resting . . . sure, I can manage that.”
    He turned to walk back down the stairs, and I was once again mesmerized by the silvery mark on his shoulder. As I stared at it, the throbbing in my arm reminded me that the shirt clinging to my injured limb belonged to the man retreating down the steps.
    “Merrick, wait,” I called after him. “Your shirt?”
    My voice was hesitant as I moved to pull the stained fabric away from my skin, the blood already dried to a deep red color.
    “No! You need to leave it there for now,” he ordered, stopping momentarily to look back at me. “Just keep it. It’s only The Who .”
    “ The Who ?” I questioned stupidly.
    “Exactly.” I could almost hear the hint of a smile in his voice before he disappeared entirely from sight.
    The sound of his footsteps on the landing told me that he was gone. Feeling slightly ashamed, I lifted my arm and a clean part of his shirt up to my nose and inhaled deeply. I could smell him as though he were standing right in front of me―like the ocean after a storm. The scent of my blood, however, ruined the perfect seaside mental picture I’d created and brought to mind unpleasant images of all sorts of ominous creatures lurking below the deep.
    I truly do have one fantastic imagination, I thought to myself as I closed the door to my apartment.

13

    While I managed to avoid breakfast with Alexa, saying no to Julian twice in one day was next to impossible. Thus, I found myself one slice of bread on a Julian sandwich