Angel (Book One of Protector Series)

Chapter Three

[Alex's POV]

I'm toweling off my hair, staring into a foggy mirror at the reflection of a girl who lost. My apartment is ruined, my brother is god knows where and I'm staying with a former Russian mobster. He's been nothing but sweet, and yet I'm wary. I don't know anything about this man, and yet I'm in his home. I leave the ensuite, standing wet and naked in the guest bedroom. I pull on a tank top and long pants that I left on the bed, a giagantic king bed. I keep looking down at my tattoo, the owl permanently inked on my skin that reminds me of my brother's greatest triumph, and now his failure.

I finish pulling a brush through my hair and head downstairs, my hand gliding down the cool banister. His house is so pretty, practically a mansion. Everything is so clean and white, and expensive-looking. He must have a housekeeper or something, there's no way he could keep it this spotless while working at the gym.

I reach the bottom of the staircase and spot the kitchen. Valentin is standing at the island bench, slicing something up and I hear something else sizzling in a pan. Whatever he's cooking, smells absolutely amazing. I take a seat at the bench and cross one leg over the other. He glances up to look at me through thick eyelashes, before returning to his cooking.

"I hope you like chicken stir fry."

"I do, I like anything really. Except peas, never peas." A smile slides onto his face, so different from the face he makes when training his fighters.

Valentin continues slicing some sort of vegetable, and I can't stop staring at his hands. His right middle finger is adorned with a simple silver band, initials carved into the outer side. He has large hands, much larger than my own. They look so welcoming, so warm and rough; like they could hold you close or snap your neck, depending on his mood.

"Are you quite done staring at my hands?"

My eyes snap up to his, a cocky glint in them. I frown and he puts the sliced vegetables into the pan, pouring a type of sauce in and mixing it. The smell hits my nose and I smile, my mouth almost watering. He takes out two bowls and fills them with food, placing them down at the dining table behind me. I go over and Valentin even pulls my chair out for me.

Sitting here feels very... normal. It feels like we could be a couple, simply enjoying a homecooked meal and the biggest problem might be running out of milk. It's comforting, knowing I'm somewhat safe here.

I try not to be a pig while eating, but I'm honestly starving. Valentin came to get me before my lunch break and we didn't eat then, so I'm a bit hungry. He asks if I want a drink and pours me a glass of wine, something that smells divine. It tastes even better. I don't know how he finishes before me, wiping his mouth with a napkin like a gentleman while I'm still trying to shovel pasta in my mouth as politely as possible. I finish soon after, standing with my empty bowl in hand. I take his from him, walking past the beautiful marble island bench and placing the bowls in the dishwasher. I wouldn't expect a man as busy as him to wash his own dishes. It's the same model as mine, so I turn it on as I would and leave it to wash, our wine glasses in there as well.

"You're quite handy aren't you?"

I turn to see him leaning on his forearms at the island bench. Bless those arms, straining against his Henley shirt. Is it possible for a shirt to be a weakness? I'm going to say yes.

"I try to be. Thank you for dinner, for everything really." I lean on the other side of the bench, pushing my hair away from my face.

"It's no trouble."

"Well it is. I'm putting you in danger over something that doesn't involve you, my brother's stupid mistakes are my problems. They shouldn't be yours."

"They became my problems the second a wolf's carcass lay in your apartment. Those gangsters have no right to threaten you."

I stare down at my hands on the marble bench, biting into my lip.

"Alexandria." I look up and see Valentin wandering over to my side of the bench. My head reaches his shoulders and I have to look up to see his face, his eyes darkening with anger, but not at me.

"Yes?" My voice shakes ever so slightly.

"I will not let those vagrants lay a hand on you. You are safe here."

"In this house, or with you?" A small smile creeps onto his face.

"That's for you to decide."

"I think you already know the answer."

Oh god. Why did you say that you absolute moron?

My brain isn't happy, mentally hitting my head against the wall. My heart is beating faster than normal, staring up at the man currently risking his life for me. He looks so different when he smiles, not as dangerous, although I don't know if I prefer him smiling or not. I like his expressions when he's angry.

I feel one of his hands brush my cheek, incredibly gentle. He holds my face, my eyes completely focused on him. I think I'm melting into the ground under the heat of his gaze, my skin warm where he touches me. He's looking at me so tenderly, like I might scurry away the second he lets me go. I've never had anyone look at me like that. He leans down to me and I shut my eyes, standing on my toes.

Then a pair of lips touch my forehead. My eyes fly open and I stare up at him as he backs away.

"Sweet dreams, Alexandria."

Sweet dreams? That's it?

He's gone, walking up the staircase with his big hand on the banister and godly ass shaped in his sweatpants. Honestly, he's got a great ass.

"Yeah. Goodnight to you as well. Don't have crappy dreams about wolf carcasses hanging over your bed!"

Oh god, you're a freaking idiot Alex. Who says that? He turns to smile anyway, and doesn't look the least bit fazed about my absolutely terrible goodnight. I end up wiping down the bench, just to leave things clean before shutting the lights off and heading upstairs.

I almost trip on the way up the stairs, thanking every holy saint that Valentin isn't with me. The house is brighter than I thought it'd be, the colossal windows filtering light from the moon into the hallway.

I reach my room, and notice one of the doors down the hall is ajar, light peeking through. Curiosity gets the better of me and I tiptoe over to it, sneaking a peek through the crack. It's Valentin's room, or I'm assuming it is because he's standing with his back to me. His arms are stretched above his head, and once again, bless them. Then he drops them, pulling up his shirt and my heart starts racing. It's been a while since I've seen a naked man, let alone a shirtless one. The 'dry season' as Freya has been calling it.

He lifts it over his head and I think I'm about to pass out. My eyes are glued to the ink hugging his shoulder blades, hundreds of individual feathers forming a set of wings. They stretch across to his arms, curling their way to his elbows and down the expanse of his back. They look angelic, but they're so black, like an angel of death. I'm mesmerised, eager to run my hands over them, the delicate artwork over hard, muscular skin.

I can't stop staring, not noticing I've totally been caught. My eyes drift up, to see Valentin's head turned to mine, our eyes locking. His mouth is quirked up in a small smile, if anything, but his eyes are so dark, like the tattoo, like when he spoke of the drug dealers, but this darkness doesn't frighten me. I stand up straight, and he doesn't move. There might be an invitation in there, a challenge for me to step inside and own up to my obvious ogling, but not tonight. I leave the door as it was, stepping into my own bedroom and shutting the door.

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Yeah, I know. It's been a while. But I've decided to actually give writing a go, something to keep my mind off my adult life. I hope you all enjoyed, do let me know if you think I can improve on my writing.
Love you <3