Involuntary

Chapter Seven

Elena couldn't believe what she had seen. Dmitrei. Quiet, mild-mannered Dmitrei, who sometimes seemed like he was from another planet, or time, tossing three grown men all over the place. It was as if he were bowling with bodies.

He had crushed a gun as though it were made of Styrofoam. He was no longer just off because of his weird social habits and manner of speaking. Now he seemed almost alien. Especially how he made the last man go completely still, like he was frozen in place. It was otherworldly.

She and Dmitrei needed to have a talk. Still, he did defend her. The thought have her a warm, contented feeling. She felt as though no matter what was weird about him, she was safe, like she wasn't wrong in trusting him.

The drive back to her place was quiet. She got the sense that he needed to calm down. So did she. when they pulled up in front of her house in her small, quiet neighborhood, she got out at the same time he did and walked around the car to him. He put his arm out and she took it, letting him lead her up the front steps.

"Want to come in?" she asked softly.

He nodded without breaking his long silence. In the soft flow of her porch light she could see his blond hair was mussed, there were lines around his eyes, and he didn't appear ready to leave her. She unlocked the door, turning the lights on as she showed him inside. They walked into her clean, modestly furnished living room and she gestured for him to take the biggest couch. He did, sitting down and staring at her, looking like a huge, confused alien in human form.

"We have to talk about what just happened," she told him. "There's no way I can believe you're normal."

He shrugged, "Think what you want."

"Do you mean that?" she asked in irritation. She folded her arms over her chest, "Are you seriously going to pretend I didn't see what I just saw?"

He looked up at her, heat in his sapphire eyes, "I protected you. That's all that should matter. And I'll do it again and again if I must. I see it as a privilege."

"But…" She fought a blush, "I mean, I'm grateful you protected us. But you… the gun… the guys…"

"What about them?" he inquired stubbornly.

She walked over and joined him on the couch. "Humans don't crush guns with their bare hands or knock people over like bowling pins."

"Was that like bowling?" he asked flatly leaning back in his seat. "If so, I kind of liked it."

"I didn't," she admitted. "We were in danger."

"I didn't like that part," he replied. "What I liked was the way they flew away from you. The way I could protect you and keep them from touching you. Punish them for thinking about you."

"There you go again," she said with a sigh, giving him a rueful smile. "Look, humans don't talk like that. Because we don't read minds."

"Maybe some do," he said.

"Do they also freeze people in place?" she asked, then let out an exasperated sigh. "Seriously, Dmitrei, I like you. I'm starting to really like you, but I need more of the truth from you if we're going to get any closer."

He went quiet, studying his hands as he slowly rubbed his palms together. Such long, deft, powerful fingers. She had always known, in the back of her mind somewhere, he was probably too good to be true, but she had no idea what he was.from

"If I'm not human, what do you think I am?" he asked.

"Well, if you hadn't beat those men up, I'd say some kind of angel," she told him. "Just by looking at you, I mean."