Ch. 8: Sunny's Attraction
August 11 | Late Noon
Jack Slobodnik was my sixty-day trial case.
I stood at the patio door observing him, my AngelGuard t-shirt sodden with sweat from my workout. From where I stood, Jack's body was a fully blossomed flower. Legs spread wide, lying flat on the weight bench, the streamlined chiseled stomach and chest sprouted biceps that effortlessly raised the bar. His tan skin gleamed, and I couldn't look away. His intensity was a thing of glory.
The next minute, the bar was slanting, slipping from Jack's fingers. I witnessed his diamond bright eyes dim, and I envisioned the weights falling and crushing him. I had less than seconds to survey the area for onlookers before springing into action. No one was out. Tapping my powers as a Guardian-in-training, I crossed the distance between us in time to catch the weights. In a blur of sovereign speed, I was at his side.
I peered into his stalwart face. Light brown lashes formed crescents above sallow cheeks. He slumped in an unnatural position, completely out of it. "Jack! Jack, are you okay?" I tossed aside the bar and shook him vigorously. No response.
His skin was feverishly warm. I worried he had overheated. I had to get him inside. Gritting my teeth, I tucked my hands beneath his sweaty arms and dragged him into my apartment. My care-taking supplies were there. It was easier than carting him to his parent's place and traveling back and forth.
I man-handled his deadweight over the metal ledge of the sliding glass door, past the TV stand that didn't have a TV. I stretched him on the mock ashwood floor between two mid-century modern chairs and the sunflower yellow sofa.
Ever since finding him in that macabre house of death and dissolution, our situation had devolved further and further outside the scope of normal. Normal Guardians-in-training didn't contend with other Supernaturals vying for the souls of their wards.
I paced before Jack's prostrate form, puzzling through that particular situation. Calling my mentor Wallace for advice seemed an option, but Jack's entanglement with Darcy Cyprian and the Ashivants had happened afterhours. Had I been supposed to keep track of him even when I was technically off the clock? It had to be a test. I couldn't call Wallace.
Our kind had a limited awareness of people's fate, governed by laws specific to that awareness. But there was a hierarchy. There were archangels, devas and devi, and the demonic aristocracy on one level. Then below them, there were djinn, lesser angels, and demons. As a full Guardian angel, Wallace had more knowledge of destiny than I did. He could tell the future, or potential futures.
Maybe that was why he had tried to deter me from taking on Jack Slobodnik. However, since I had taken on this challenge, I refused to prematurely concede defeat. Djinn aside, I could handle a simple matter of overheating.
I wrestled off Jack's ribbed tank and stripped him down to his shorts. I grabbed a throw pillow for his head. I retrieved an icepack from my freezer and wrapped it in a dish cloth, applying it to his temple. Electrolytes. I had an electrolyte drink in the fridge. I grabbed a bottle to try to coax him to drink it.
"Wha–where am I?" Jack slurred.
"You over-exerted yourself and passed out. You're at my place. Lie back," I instructed. Ignoring me, he sat up. He gave a peculiar frown at his socks and kicked off his remaining slide. The other shoe had been lost while I dragged him in. "How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Like my mind is racing. I feel like I want to rip out of my skin."
"Well, that's–"
Jack took the lime flavored drink from my hand and guzzled it. Struggling to rise, disoriented and weak, his tattooed arm smashed the decorative ottomans that doubled as my coffee table. I winced as a rustic wooden tray clattered to the floor. A small vase with a single peony fell and the sturdy glassware rolled under a chair, unharmed. Crouching to his level, I picked up the flower.
"–Dramatic," I sighed lightly and smiled. "Hang on. I'll get my blood pressure cuff and check your vitals, but you should be fine. Nothing a spot of tea can't fix." I left to prepare it.
On the escritoire, positioned where a dining table should be, there was the open ledger for logging my progress with him as well as the AngelGuard rulebook with its signature gold winged insignia. I placed the peony on top, rolled the deskcover down, and locked it, glancing over my shoulder. Jack was watching the ceiling fan spin a fast circle.
He had incredible eyes. Really quite remarkable, I thought as I put on the electric tea kettle and disappeared into the bathroom for the first aid stuff. When I returned, Jack had transported himself from the floor to the sofa. He held the ice pack over his face, but he removed it as I sat beside him.
"Let's have a look," I murmured.
The weight of his thick, corded forearm in my hand as I wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm stirred an inexplicable current within me. I slowed my breathing and watched the numbers on the electric monitor relay his health information. A quick peek at his face revealed he was watching me. His lips curled, and I looked away.
Clearing my throat, I said, "Your heart rate is a little high."
"You don't have any pictures of your family around."
"Say what?" I asked, caught off guard.
He gestured at the walls. "Why don't you have any pictures of family?"
"Ha! Um, I have photo albums around here somewhere." I collected the blood pressure cuff and hurried to put it away. I shouted from the bathroom closet, "I'm an only child. I grew up in Cali, actually."
"I guess you're not very close to your parents." His voice came from directly behind me. Startled, I spun around and dropped the first aid kit. The plastic container burst open, spilling bottles, and ointments, and bandages. Jack apologized as he stooped to help me set things to rights.
"What's your relationship with your parents like?" I turned the tables on him.
That charming, rascally smile reappeared. "Sometimes I'm certain I depend on them too much. It's probably co-dependency, rather. I had an older brother. Star quarterback, headed to Texas A&M on a sports scholarship. He died in a car accident right before I was conceived. My mom had me at forty. My folks called me their miracle baby."
"That had to be–" I sucked in a breath as his fingers grazed mine when we both reached for the lidocaine spray. He sat back on his heels and let me finish picking up things. "That had to be mighty big shoes to fill. Your parents seem proud of you, nonetheless."
"Hm, is that your impression?" He chuckled wryly.
I placed the first aid kit on the shelf where it belonged and returned with him to the main room. The teakettle timer buzzed. Grabbing two earthen mugs, I served an herbal blend of cinnamon, ginger, and damiana tea sweetened with honey. When I turned around with the drinks, Jack sprawled on the sofa like a work of art. Shirtless.
"Impressive," I murmured. He quirked a brow and tilted his head with a grin, and I realized what had come out of my mouth. "Impression! I mean, that's my impression. Um, your mom always speaks so warmly of you, and your dad will drop anything to get to you."
I pivoted to sip my tea (to hide my burning face.) Attraction, I named the instinct. Of all the wayward human emotions that could cost me my wings, the last thing I expected was visceral sexual attraction tripping me up.
Mal had guessed correctly. Before applying to be a Guardian, as a lesser angel I had been composed of light, incorporeal. Yet, a requirement of my training was to put on the mantle of humanity in order to better comprehend the beings under my protection: Their flaws and foibles, their strengths and skills. I needed to know temptation and reckon with morality.
I was endowed with specific gifts to aid me, such as the ability to sense where my charge was and when he was in danger. I could also lay on hands, a healing touch that could calm even the most erratic of souls. It was nothing to put myself in harm's way without incurring a single scratch or to travel at lightspeed as, essentially, a trick of the light.
I could not, however, expect to conquer a tribe of djinn while distracted by emotional involvement with the man I was sworn to safekeep.
I squeezed my eyes shut and gave my body a shake. "Thank you, by the way," I made another conversational detour. "For agreeing to help me teach the neighborhood kids."
How beneficial spending evenings with him would be. Taekwondo classes provided the perfect opportunity to get inside his head and plant ideas of peace and nonviolence, the cornerstones of any effective martial discipline. Secondarily, the more I kept him away from the djinn, the better.
"Thanks for inviting me. I think I'll enjoy it," he mused. "You know, martial arts transformed this self-conscious mama's boy into someone who could defend himself. I've seen a lot of youngsters benefit from it, outcasts like that kid in the hoodie."
"The homeless one?" I spoke to the wall art to keep from staring at him.
I assumed he nodded or gave some indication I was right because he went on, "I asked them to sign up. Reminds me of myself at that age, skinny and high-strung, playing it tough to hide being scareder than a jackrabbit in a kennel of hounds." He chuckled. "That kid came at me with a knife."
I whistled, apprehensive. "Are you sure we're equipped for students with problems like that?"
He gave a good-natured smirk. "You think the rest of those shiny-faced cherubs don't have problems of their own? Some shit is just harder to pass off as candy bars. Leave the hoodie kid to me."
"Dibs granted." I shrugged and meandered to my virtual assistant to cue up ambiance. Instrumental music spilled from the speaker at a low volume as I scratched my nose with my thumb and finally faced him. "Anyway, um, how'd you meet your girlfriend?" I wanted to know how he had gotten mixed up with the djinn. Why was he working for their master?
He strode toward me (still) in nothing but shorts and socks, and he casually dropped a hand on my shoulders. My heart skipped a beat because I wasn't sure what he would do next. He simply peered into my eyes with lips compressed.
"You can ask," he teased.
It was my turn to tilt my head.
"You can ask if I'm into men," he clarified.
"Oh! No! I wasn't..." I stepped away, laughing, embarrassed. He studied me as I put half the room between us. "Jack, let's not get signals crossed. I wasn't coming onto you. It's kind of a requirement of my job that I not get sexually involved with anyone."
"An odd requirement."
"Something to do with purity of the mind, body, and spirit, and that jazz."
"Like a warrior monk?" He came closer, and I took another step back. Biting his lower lip to keep from grinning, he returned to the sofa like some Greek god ready to be worshipped. "Or is that an excuse to avoid confronting your attraction to me? Mal's not my girlfriend, by the way. She's my lawyer."
At a knock at the door, grateful for the interrruption, I hurried to open it. "Mrs. Slobodnik?"
"Hi, Sunny. You'll get sick of us bothering you, but Jack's gone again. Did you happen to see–?" Lois's gaze veered to her underdressed son. I stammered to explain, but her cheeks flared pink as she waved to cut me off and shifted to put him out of her line of sight. "Like I said, sorry to bother you. Y'all have a nice evening. Be safe. I mean, er–bye."
The woman ran from my threshold as if a fire was lit under her. My eyes locked with Jack's, and I couldn't help but laugh. "I think, she thinks–" I stopped short of saying as he bobbed his head in agreement.
"Probably so, but it's hardly anyone's business. See you Monday evening at Taekwondo?" He picked up his shirt and shrugged into it. I felt perhaps disappointment at him preparing to leave. He ambled–prowled–my way, but this time I refrained from initiating another game of cat and mouse. I held my ground.
"Monday sounds great. Or anytime you want to hang out or whatever." I swallowed.
"I want to hug you. You likely saved my life."
"It wasn't that serious," I laughed.
"Hey, saved me an annoying trip to urgent care. So?"
"So, what?"
He raised an eyebrow and spread his arms for a hug. I realized it wasn't standard protocol in American culture for casual male acquaintances to embrace in such a manner. However, a best-not-examined urge came over me, and I stepped into Jack's embrace.
He was warm, sweaty, with the faint scent of soap and deodorant spicing his skin. His face brushed the side of mine as I disengaged from the swift connection. I opened my mouth to speak; nothing came out. I watched him exit. Stared, more like.
Damn. No one had warned me about desire.