Watchers [SAMPLE]

Chapter Three

Joss stares at me a moment before laughing. It startles me because I didn't expect it. The sound is melodious, pleasant, and I find myself missing it when he stops.

"What makes you think I'm an angel?"

Struggling not to blush, I shrug. "Well... You stood up to that demon like it was no big deal."

"I'm not an angel."

"Why were you tracking it then?"

Leaning back in the chair, he says, "It's what I do."

Why would anyone follow demons? I want to ask him more questions, but he isn't very forthcoming with information. It makes me wonder if he's hiding something or just doesn't want to talk about it. A gut feeling tells me there is more to this than I can know or he is willing to tell me.

Fiddling with the ends of my hair, I shift in the chair and bite my lip in anticipation. I feel like I'm in an interrogation and I can't leave until Joss gets what he wants. I have no idea what that is though. I've told him all that I know.

Again, I am struck by how calm and sure he is. Like everything around him is beyond him, like he has a plan and the frivolities of life aren't going to interfere. How many boys my age did I know like that?

Closing my eyes, I press my fingers to them. I really want to go home.

"Can I go home now? There isn't anything else I can tell you," I try.

"No. It isn't safe yet."

I open my eyes, stare into his. "How is it ever going to get any safer?"

He doesn't answer.

Rising, he removes his coat and places it over the back of the chair before going to the stove. He takes the teapot to the sink and begins to fill it with water. The fabric of his T-shirt stretches across his back and shoulders while he does this, and I am struck by how fit he is. Strong shoulders tapering into a narrow waist.

My mind must be shaking off the clinging shock. Why else would I pay any attention to how this stranger looks? It isn't as if he is holding me hostage, I know, but a part of me feels that way. Still, I can't muster the fear I should be feeling, the fear I felt earlier.

As he brings two mugs to the table, each with a tea bag in it, I unbutton my coat. Warmth is settling in. I feel like I'm thawing from the inside. My long sleeve T-shirt and pull-over hoodie are more than adequate now.

I shrug out of my coat and pretend to be looking at the mug, when really I am watching him from beneath my lashes. He has a way about him, a confidence that made me follow him in the first place. Now that I have time to sit and think on it, I feel safe here. I feel safe with him.

When I look up, he is studying me as if dissecting my person into a million pieces to examine under a microscope. Those eyes give away none of his thoughts, but it doesn't lessen the intensity of the scrutiny.

"What?" I ask, grasping my hair to twirl it around my fingers.

He shakes his head. "Just trying to figure you out."

My turn to laugh. "That's not very hard."

"You're different from other girls your age."

I am? From my looks to the way I dress, I always thought I was as average as any other girl. Sure, I don't drool after every cute boy in school and I'm not obsessing over rock bands or movie stars, but I figured that was just me. Those things hold less importance when you're trying to keep your family together after your dad leaves.