Chapter Six

I steel my spine, march into the living room—as quietly as I can, of course—and place the tip of the knife to the handsome stranger's ink-covered throat. I smile inwardly when I notice my hand is steady.

"Why are you in my house?" I demand, proud that my voice is as sturdy as my hand.

The man doesn't flinch as his eyes slowly peel open. He's staring straight ahead. Blinks, then turns his gaze to me so calmly as if I couldn't kill him with one single thrust. I could. And I will, if I have to.

His eyes land on mine, and they're a distracting shade of gold that couldn't possibly be human. They flicker with humor, and that distracts me. Which angers me. Who the hell does he think he is looking at me like that? As if this is all a joke. As if I don't have the balls to end his life.

Not an ounce of fear rolls through me as I stare into his eyes, and I don't know what that means for me—or for him.

But I'm not a good judge of character. I was hanging out with a shadow monster, for Christ's sake. My boyfriend was cheating on me for months and I had no idea. I'm clueless when it comes to people I should and shouldn't trust.

The handsome stranger doesn't respond or react. He just keeps staring.

And I, like the complete psychopath that I am, check him out.

I check. Him. Out!

Lexia, you need a psychiatrist.

A prominent cupid's bow draws my attention to his full lips, which are a light shade of pink. Sharp cheekbones and an even sharper jaw. The tattoos along his neck and under his chin disappear down his white shirt in swirls of black ink and designs I don't recognize. How far do they go? To his collarbone? His chest? All the way down his abs? I swallow hard at the thought of those abs. Firm and toned. Three earrings are in his ear, all simple silver barbells. The man is beautiful. Just beautiful. Angelic, almost.

Is he an angel? Are they real?

I allow my gaze to drop lower, the ripples of a six-pack prominent under his shirt. Narrow hips, thick thighs… Yeah, this guy is hot.

But he's in my house, and for that he must die.

"Are you going to stab me, darling, or are you just teasing me?" His voice is as smooth as butter. His tone soft and calm, with an undertone of humor. My thighs clench together, and I'm convinced there's something wrong with my head.

I raise a brow, ignoring the fact my stomach is doing all kinds of weird flips.

"I… I…" I hate that I can't get words out, first of all. Hate even more that my hand trembles. "I asked you a question," I finally say, raising my chin.

He smiles at me, showing off two rows of perfectly straight white teeth. "Could you repeat it for me, darling?"

The way the word "darling" just rolls off his tongue like some arrogant British asshole—even though his accent is clearly American—has my body vibrating.

I grit my teeth, holding tighter to the knife. His smile is… absurdly distracting. I swallow thickly, then repeat, "Why are you in my house?"

"Gronag," he says simply.

"Gronag?" I question. Is this… a joke?

"That's right."

"What the hell is a Gronag?"

"Who, darling."

"Excuse me?" I snap.

"Gronag is a who, and he is the one who attacked you. Outside, in your driveway." He gestures with a flick of his eyes toward the front of the house. I look that way as if the scene will replay in front of me, but quickly dart them back at him, knowing I just made a foolish move by looking away. He didn't try anything, though he could have.

"You're the one who protected me?" He grins wider. "How? He was a shadow. You're—:

His perfect eyebrows knit together. "How do you know about shadows?"

I'm not sure how I should answer that, so I don't. "Not important. How do you?"

"Pull the knife away and I'll tell you." He smirks, and I simultaneously want to punch him and—do something that is so very inappropriate.

"How do I know—"

Before I know what's happening, he snatches my wrist and pushes it away, while grabbing my hip with his other hand. He spins us so we switch spots, and I'm sitting on the couch with him hovering over me, his knee pressed into the cushion on my side so he's hovering. The warmth of his body falls over me, his smoky scent invading my nose. My heart is pounding, and I don't even know why. His face is mere inches from mine. A cocky smirk resting on his lips, and I swear I hear the faintest rumble in his chest. The knife is still clutched in my hand, but it feels entirely useless after that little show of skill.

"The next time you threaten me with a knife, it better be in the bedroom." He winks, lets me go, and takes a step back as he straightens to his full height. He's tall. Like six four maybe. Ves is taller, but he's not human. Though, this man's eyes… maybe he isn't human either?

All I do is stare. All this man does is smile. He tilts his head to the side as he watches me, that same look of humor on his face. He reminds me of the Cheshire cat. Not taking anything seriously and constantly grinning.

"They don't give me much info when I'm sent on assignment," he begins, shoving his hands into his pockets casually. I'm still trying to catch my breath. "They only told me where to be because of the ripple in the balance."

"Balance?" I question as I sit up straighter, placing my hand with the knife beside me, but not letting it go. It's obvious he's stronger than me, clearly trained in some kind of fighting. The knife won't help me, but I feel better having it.

He nods. "Of light and dark. You know, the shadows…" He raises a perfect brow.

"Okay…"

"Seems I got here just in time, darling, because Gronag was prepared to kill you."

"Why would a shadow want to kill me?"

"I think you know why."

He's right. I do know why. At least, I think I do. I have an idea.

Ves.

I glance at the floor, then shake my head slowly. "Maybe…"

He pulls his sleeves up to his elbows, and crouches in front of me, placing his hands on my knees. Oh my stars, this hot guy is touching my legs! With hands so warm, the heat is seeping into my skin and traveling all the way to my cheeks.

I stare at his tattooed hands, following the designs from his fingers to under the material of his shirt. They're all black, but some have gold around the outer edges that seem to shimmer when the light hits them a certain way. I've seen a lot of tattoos, but I've never seen ink that color before.

"I know you're only human, but—"

"You're not?" I snap, looking up to meet his eyes. The air leaving my lungs when I see how close he is. How bright his eyes are. How… entrancing. They shine like the sun, hot and vivid. Around his pupil is dark like honey, fading to a deep sunflower yellow, with small, dark flecks that look almost brown or burnt orange.

He smiles again. A knowing smile, like maybe he can read my mind. Or maybe he's just arrogant because he knows how handsome he is. Men are like that.

"Since it's clear you know of the shadows, I suppose it's okay to admit that I am not human."

"What are you?" I breathe out, my eyes darting back and forth between his. They squint slightly as his smile grows.

"I am a radiant," he says proudly.

I blink a few times. "What is that?"

"The easiest way to describe it is to say it's the exact opposite of a shadow. They're dark and scary, I'm light and… not scary." He shrugs, his fingers adding a slight pressure onto my knees, reminding me they're there.

I glance at his tattooed arms, then to his throat and face. "That could be debatable."

He laughs, this low, rich chuckle that has my skin erupting in goosebumps. My stars, why do I feel this way toward him? Like my heart wants to leap out of my chest and jump into his.

"Pretty sure it's not," he rasps out, then stands. He runs a hand over his short hair and blows out a breath, planting his hands on his narrow hips and taking a look around like he's trying to figure something out.

"Why are you here?" I ask. I'm not satisfied with his answer from earlier.

"A mission," he answers as he continues to glance at every corner, every bit of furniture, in the room.

That's barely an answer at all.

"What kind of mission?" He gestures around, like it's obvious. "I think you think I know more than I do."

"Ah…" he says, pointing at me. "Perhaps we should start there, darling."

There's that word again…

I frown, and he drops onto the couch beside me, so close like we're best friends. That smokey scent of his crawls into my nose again. Like a sweet campfire… comforting in ways it shouldn't be, considering he's not human, a stranger, and broke into my house.

"Why should I trust you?" I ask.

"For reasons I cannot say."

For reasons he cannot say?

Oh no. Nope. We aren't playing this game, buddy.

I scoff, then stand up, pointing at him with my knife. "You're in my house. I've about had it with men in general, never mind cocky ones like you. Tell me what you're doing here or get the hell out." I jab the knife toward the door. His eyes glimmer with humor.

"All right," he says, slapping his hands on his thighs, then leaning forward. I hate that he doesn't seem intimidated by me or my big knife. Am I really not scary, even wielding this sharp thing? That is so sad. "The truth is I'm not quite sure why I am here."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I was sent here by the Master of Light, and when you are spoken to by him, you don't ask questions. You do as you're told."

"So, your boss told you to come here, and you did, and that's it?"

"Uh, yeah. Pretty much." He shrugs again, settling back into the couch.

This is nuts. Absolutely crazy!

I shift my weight to my other foot and ask, "Do you know Vesperon?"

"Should I?" he asks carefully.

"How did you know to come here?"

"I was given coordinates."

"So, your boss knows why you're here, but won't tell you? I mean, if he told you to come here, then obviously he knows something, right?"

He shakes his head. "Not necessarily. He is the one who watches over the balance. Same as the Master of Darkness in the shadow realm. My boss, as you call him, would have felt a shift in the balance to call me here, since that's my job."

"Your job?"

He nods. "As an Agent of Light."

The patience in his voice is appreciated. It doesn't make me feel any better though.

"I'm so confused by all of this," I say, though I didn't mean to say it out loud. I'm trying to be strong and confident. Not annoyed and weak.

"Getting mixed up with otherworldly beings does make things difficult for humans." His tone makes it seem like it's the most obvious thing.

"How would you know?" I snap, pointing the knife at him again. He doesn't flinch. Ugh, how embarrassing am I? Can't even scare a man with a scary knife?

"This isn't the first time I've been to this world. In fact, most of my time is spent here. As an Agent of Light, my job is to restore balance."

Agent of Light. Guardians of the Realms. Master of Light. Master of Darkness. Shadows. Balance.

I feel like I'm stuck in some kind of nerdy board game!

The man stands up, moving in front of me, and places his large hand on my hip. I suck in a breath because it tingles. It's so warm. Almost hot. Another degree or two and it would burn.

"I am here to help you," he says softly. I lick my lips and look up at him. "I assure you, darling, you can trust me."

The sincerity in his eyes has me believing him. A very similar feeling to how I felt when speaking with Ves. I knew that I could trust him, and I have that same feeling now.

Though, I have to remind myself that I felt the same way about Bradyn once upon a time too. Things with Bradyn and Ves didn't end well…

Maybe this won't either, but what do I have to lose?