Kassern (Archangels Creed) Read Online Free PDF Page B

"
    "Oh." She leaned her head against his arm. " That ' s sweeeeet . "
    He rolled his eyes, wishing Devyn would call her off.
    " Mmmm , you smell so yummy! " Karly ' s squeaky words came with one hand landing on his chest. She sucked her breath in. " Oh my. You work out? " Her fingers probed the muscles along his torso.
    " Karly, stop groping the man will you? He ' s taken. " Devyn spoke over her shoulder and continued walking, spine perfectly straight.
    Karly ' s laugh was a little too deep. " Metaphorically. "
    " I ' m celibate. " That word should put an end to her molestations. They drew to a stop at the coffee shop and Troy pointed to his little black car across the street.
    " Celibate? " Karly looked from him to Devyn, waiting for an explanation. Troy silently prayed Devyn would give it. He really didn't want to go there. Not with Karly.
    " That means he doesn ' t fuck, Karly. " Devyn headed toward the car.
    Troy ' s ears stung with the crass term while Karly pouted like a child who was told she couldn ' t ride the…well.
    Not like he expected or wanted Devyn to pretend to be somebody else, but she didn't have to take such pleasure in shocking or embarrassing him. H er tone more than hinted that she relish ed in his discomfort . A purposeful aggression. Almost testing him. How much could the pristine preacher boy take before he covered his ears and ran off?
    It was suddenly a damn good question.

Chapter Five
     
    Damn, when would The Preacher get enough and get lost? The man irritated Devyn just by drawing breath. The way he tried to keep the dimple in his left cheek from showing when he smiled and that little habit he had of sweeping his tongue across his full lower lip when he was trying to decide what to say—he was trouble. Wasn ' t sure exactly how yet, but he was. Nobody was any kind of good without strings attached, Jesus boy or not. 
    And yet she couldn't help wondering if she'd be with a man just like him if her parents hadn't been killed when she was twelve. Not that anything ever worked out that way . I n her current life, instinct  screamed at the stupidity of letting a strange man—in his own freaky little goody way—know where the hell she lived.
    Devyn tried to stretch her legs in the cramped back seat of Troy The Preacher's absolutely spotless little car. She could appreciate the new car smell, even though it was a couple of years old, but damn! The back seat wasn't big enough for a Barbie Stripper, let alone a real live one. Hopefully, that vouched for Troy not being a serial killer. He certainly couldn ' t use that car to haul dead bodies around before dumping them by the interstate.
    "Take the next left, and our building is on the right." Karly's directions seemed too normal to have come from the giggling, slightly flaky whore who'd been trying her best to get in Troy's pants from the moment she laid eyes on him.
    Devyn quelled her annoyance at Karly's behavior reminding herself she'd kind of put her up to it. After his offer to drive them home, she couldn't help being wary. He might not murder 'exploited' women, but that didn't mean h e w as a saint . Karly was a natural at bringing out a man ' s true nature but she sure as hell seemed to be enjoying herself – maybe a little too much . And so far he hadn ' t cracked. Not even a little. The man was clearly just tolerating Karly's presence , rather than jumping on her not-so-subtle offer .
    Troy successfully avoided the worst of the potholes and swung his car into the parking lot. Watching him, Devyn noted his interest in their surroundings. He stayed away from the overgrown shrub that surrounded the parking lot, and pulled into a space not far from the main entrance. Not entirely stupid, at least.
    As soon as he put the car in Park, Karly opened her door and hopped out. Devyn pushed the front seat forward and started to claw her way through the crack. Halfway through, Troy was there, offering a helpful hand. She wanted to ignore it, but getting