Nothing happened when I flipped on the basement breaker. I then tried the main breaker switch yelping as sparks shot from the box, causing strange noises to sound from outside the house.
Groaning louder, I started toward the stairs, taking the same path until I reached the top of the steps and entered the kitchen. Power sizzled over my flesh as I searched the darkness, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Shutting the downstairs door, I peeked out the back window, noting that now all the houses sat in the dark.
“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing my temples in frustration. My hands settled on the counter briefly before I spun around, sensing the disturbance again. I swung blindly, intending to hit whatever or whoever was in front of me and slipped on something wet on the floor. I slipped again, dropping to my knees, fumbling, and grasping on to anything I could get a hold of as I went to the floor.
I latched my fingers onto something solid, and it didn’t give. Exhaling, I lifted myself up on the cloth, only to realize it was attached to something hard. It also smelled of sensual, masculinity, and if I let go, I’d be flat on the floor, at Knox’s freaking feet.
Chapter 5
The entire house was bathed in shadows. I still held on to the body I’d grasped on to as I fell. Closing my eyes, I fought for any strength to get to my damn feet without falling flat on my ass again. Heat burned my cheeks, and I popped my eyes open, peering up at him with the hope that his eyesight was as bad as mine in the dark.
“You lied, Aria,” a rich, deep voice said in front of me.
“What, what are you doing here?” I snapped angrily.
“You’re on your knees, and it’s a very good look on you.”
“Why are you in my house?”
“You blew the power out in mine and everyone else’s,” he growled irritably.
“Not likely, they only allow the original families to live on this block, Knox. You are not an original,” I mumbled.
“Light a fucking candle, witch.”
“There isn’t a candle in the entire house, jerk.” I righted my top, relieved that he hadn’t been able to see most of my breasts that became exposed in my fall. My skirt was askew, but it wasn’t revealing anything indecently, so I ignored it.
A lighter flicked, and a candle flame danced to life in his hand. He sat it on the counter before instructing a male I hadn’t even noticed was there to retrieve more from their house. Frowning, I had been about to point out we didn’t need their charity when his brow lifted, as if he had read my thought, or knew my intention. My mouth closed as my shoulders slumped in defeat.
He picked up the candle and held it in front of his face, and I gaped at him openly. On the side of the road, beneath the moon’s fluorescent light, he’d been decent to gaze at. In the soft glow of the candlelight? He was sex incarnate, primal, predatory, and all wrapped into one dangerous package. Knox was frightening to be with alone. He was the type of creature virgins sacrificed their lives for with the mere thoughts of sex once they reached the promised lands. His dark hair was ruffled, and he was shirtless, as if I’d interrupted him mid-virginal sacrifice.
My eyes slid over his chiseled abs, pausing on the ravens drawn in stages of flight on his hip. The man had been created from the paintbrush of a skilled artist, dripped with masculinity. He was then sent out into the world with the sole purpose of dropping female panties or melting them. My gaze lifted, locking with his as a guilty flush made my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Electrical box?” he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow as if I bored him with my endless gawking.
I turned, intending to show him the way, and slipped on the floor, only for him to catch my arm and then pull me toward him until my flesh touched his, igniting with heat as if he’d set me on fire.
“Can you try not to break your pretty neck until I leave?” he snapped.
I righted my frame, inwardly giving myself a mental shake for acting like an idiot in front of him. He kneeled down, exposing the powerful lines of his back and the ravens that flowed from his hip to his shoulder blade. I leaned over him, staring down at the red substance on the floor, and narrowed my gaze on it as he pushed a finger through it and brought it up to his nose.
“There is blood covering the entire floor,” he announced.
“What?” I asked, staring at my dress that was now covered in blood, which the candlelight exposed. I stared at my palms and groaned loudly. “That’s not right. The wards were up. I only disturbed them when I entered the yard,” I mused, thinking out loud. The blood was cold but fresh enough to still be wet. I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and fixed it, oblivious to the fact I was covering the silver strands in crimson. It was something I did when I was nervous or worried. “No one was inside the house. I was the first one in.” I shook my head absently, staring back down at the blood.
“You might want to stop touching yourself. You’re starting to look like a murder victim; it’s giving me a fucking hard-on.”
“Shit,” I groaned, wiping it off on my ruined dress. “The box is this way.” I replayed his words as I bent over to undo my boots so I wasn’t traipsing blood through the house. The plastic soles were shit on slick surfaces, and I was clumsy enough on my own. Once I’d set the boots on the counter, I tiptoed around the trail of blood and then paused as my gaze followed it to the basement door. “That’s impossible. I was just down there and didn’t slip in blood.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t break your bloody neck,” he muttered, grabbing my hand as he made his way to the door. “Stop fighting me.” He pulled me closer to him, uncaring that I was trying to take my hand from his.
“Right? Because I know you so well, don’t I? I’m about to walk into a dark basement with you, and for all I know, you could be a serial killer.”
“It wasn’t human blood, Aria. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have fucking done it already. I wouldn’t drag you into the basement and kill you there. I’d do it right fucking here to make a statement.”
“That’s exactly what a killer would say. You know it’s always the blonde who dies first, right?”
“Your hair is silver, not blonde.”
“Yeah, well, maybe holding hands with you disturbs my feminine sensibilities.”
“Are you afraid of being alone with me in the dark, little girl?”
“Absolutely,” I said, nodding as a smile spread over his face. “You know I’m not that little, right? I’m five-three, which is only a smidge under the average for women.” He turned around, looming over me as he peered down, locking eyes with me, making me feel tiny and insignificant.
“Are you always this annoying?”
“I’m not annoying. I’m nervous. I don’t enjoy being alone with you. I don’t like the dark. Darkness doesn’t bother me per se, but dark places unnerve me.”
“Witches aren’t afraid of the dark,” he breathed.
“Yeah, normal witches don’t have mothers who lock them in dark cells telling them evil belongs in the shadows. That which is born of darkness must be returned to the darkness from which it came; I did.” I chewed my lip, unwilling to meet his stare as my internal scream sounded of the child I’d been, terrified of the darkness. Amara had found me, freeing me, much to Freya’s ire. She’d always found me, and yet I couldn’t sense her to help her now.