I don't know how long ago I took this one down, but it, like Shadowland, is going through the editing process. Also, I'm kind of hoping that once I reread this one and Tainted, I'll be able to jump start Obsession. So welcome any new readers, and welcome back any old. Enjoy!

Chapter one: Angel on the Couch

Alexa

My day started out just like any other. Normal. So, when did it go in the complete opposite direction and make a beeline towards insane?

Well, the exact moment wasn't definite, but I was pretty sure this instant was a likely candidate.

I entered my house, the same as I always did, and headed toward my upstairs room. As I passed the front room, I froze.

Backing up slowly, I peeked into the room and sucked in my breath. There was an angel on my couch.

No joke.

I looked around, but my mom was nowhere to be seen. Did she know about…him?

I'd always had an overflow of curiosity, and I'd never walked away when that curiosity began pulling at the back of my mind, prodding me forward. Needless to say, it had gotten me into quite a lot of trouble over the years.

It was that same curiosity that had prompted me to kiss Timmy Jones when I was ten, to prank call a total stranger when I was thirteen, and to sneak out for my first time when I was fifteen. That same curiosity that had gotten me into trouble countless times before, prompted me to take a step into the living room, toward the angel.

I mean, it was an angel and angels are supposed to be the good guys, right? I wasn't totally insane, right? Hm, I wasn't so sure about that assumption.

One step turned into two, and three turned into four.

Then, the next thing I knew, I was standing next to the couch. From here, I could see the angel more closely. He had long black hair, but not the kind of long that looks like a hippy. It was currently splayed over his forehead, but could have been chin length easily.

I couldn't tell what color his eyes were because they were currently closed and I probably would have fallen over, dead, if one of them had suddenly popped open like the movies.

He was muscular, but not overly so. It was like the perfect amount of muscle. I felt an insane urge to reach out and squeeze one of his biceps, but somehow managed to refrain. That was a little bit more than my curiosity could prod me.

One of his arms was thrown over his chest, and it was then that I noticed the dark stain that was spreading outward from underneath his arm.

I gasped and took a large step backward, as if standing so close would give me some kind of incurable disease. I looked around the room, panic starting to seize me and make me think irrationally, but there was still no sign of my mom.

She wasn't tied up in a corner and I didn't see her corpse lying around anywhere either. Had she defended herself from this man and fled? That could explain the blood stain on his chest. Of course that didn't explain why he would flop down on the couch to die instead of going to find someone to fix him. Was my imagination running away with me? Was it possible that my mother was at the store or maybe getting her hair done? Yes.

Was I a total nutcase? Pretty much.

The angel groaned and my breathing stopped. I stood frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the stranger. I wasn't sure what I was planning to do if he was waking up. Run? Scream?

Most likely, I'd end up standing rooted to the spot. I had a lot of curiosity, not courage. I was only slightly braver than the Cowardly Lion.

If I ever did anything amazing and courageous, I assure you, it would be a total accident fueled by fear of death and, or, my blatant stupidity.

Hey, at least I'm honest.

Suddenly, the angel moved and opened his eyes. And, I realize that this was incredibly stupid of me, but I automatically looked at his eye color instead of watching what he was doing warily.

Blue. They were an amazing lapis lazuli blue.

The angel sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his chest. I noticed that there were two slits in the back of his shirt so his wings could escape and I wondered briefly if it sucked having to cut up all of your clothes like that.

Our eyes locked—mine a startling green and his a deep blue—for a fraction of a second before my senses finally kicked in and a blood curdling scream tore from my lips.

My scream lasted for only a fraction of a second before the angel's hand covered my mouth, cutting of my shrill shrieks. Startled, my eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. How had he moved off the couch so fast? Had I even seen him move? I thought about it and realized that I hadn't seen him even twitch. One minute he was on the couch and then next he was in front of me. Weird…

I tried to pull away, to put some distance between us, but he followed, keeping his hand over my mouth.

"Please don't do that. I'm not going to hurt you," the angel whispered hoarsely, his voice rough with pain.

Obviously, I didn't believe him. He could see that I didn't. And I'd be insane if I did. He was a stranger—and he was in my house, touching me; admittedly, not in any kind of inappropriate way. This wasn't like in school where they teach you the difference between a 'good' touch and a 'bad' touch. He was only covering my mouth so I wouldn't scream again.

OH MY GOD! WAS I NUTS!?

"My name is Lance," he said slowly, trying to mask the pain.

I could see it though, in his eyes. He was hurting just standing there. So I figured, with him already wounded and whatnot, I could take him. Maybe.

Okay, probably not. I could run away and knock stuff over in his path while screaming bloody murder though. Of course, he could just appear in front of me without moving an inch and I'd be screwed so…

My eyes were still wide—I wasn't sure if they'd ever go back to their normal size—but I nodded.

Lance slowly removed his hand from my mouth and when I didn't scream, he sighed. "I'm Alexandria," I said softly, not feeling the need to tell him that everyone calls me Alexa. Lance nodded like he knew and sat back down on the couch. I winced for him. "Is it bad?" I asked, eyeing the bloodstained shirt, thinking that that was a dumb question even as the words left my mouth. He was bleeding, of course it was bad!

Lance didn't answer for a while, as if he was trying to decide if he should tell me the truth or not. "No. It looks worse than it actually is," he finally sighed.

I thought maybe he was lying, but then again, what reason did he have for telling me the truth? I was a complete stranger to him, which brought me back to the whole, strange-angel-on-my-couch thing.

"Are you sure? You're kind of bleeding. A lot," I said, running a hand through my wavy red hair. It was the sweet kind of red too, not that "strawberry blonde" stuff. My hair was bitchin' red. Put that in your juice box and suck it.

Lance tried to stand, but winced and sucked in a sharp breath and sat back down again. "Really, I'm fine. It's not so bad. And I'm a fast healer," he admitted.

This worried me a little. Just exactly how fast was fast?

"Well, let me take you to a hospital…or something," I suggested, trying not to let my eyes stray to his huge puffy white wings. Needless to say, that was easier said than done. It's not every day you see big, puffy, white wings protruding from a man's shoulder blades.

Actually, you never see that.

Then the front door opened and my mother walked in carrying groceries. "Lance!" she exclaimed upon seeing the wounded angel.

I went slack jawed and dumbfounded. Suddenly the world made no sense. How the heck did she know him!? Did she hate puppies too? Did she get the crunchy peanut butter? That strange thought flitted through my mind before I could comprehend how completely crazy it was to be thinking about peanut butter at a time like this.

"Mom?" I asked.

Lance cursed under his breath—which I thought was kind of funny. Come on, swearing angels? That's weird, right?—and mom turned to look at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. As if she hadn't even known I was there.

"Alexa," she breathed. "Oh crap."

I watched her turn and hurry toward the kitchen. I glanced at Lance and bit into my lower lip. "Just…wait here. And try not to bleed on anything," I said with a shake of my head—who says that?—and ran after my mom. She was furiously chopping carrots when I entered the kitchen.

"Mom?" I asked, the peanut butter issue momentarily forgotten. She didn't even slow her chopping frenzy. "What is going on? Who is he and how do you know him?" I demanded. Now she stopped and set the knife down gently, stalling for time.

"His name is Lance Valchek and he's…" she paused and turned to look at me. "And he's your guardian angel."

My eyebrows shot so far up my forehead that they were nearly lost in my hairline. "I'm sorry, what?" I asked incredulously.

My mother closed her large brown eyes and tugged on a strand of her flame-colored hair. Despite the fact that we both have red hair, we look nothing alike. My mother claimed that I had my father's eyes, and my dad said I had my mother's nose, but I just didn't see it.

"You heard me," my mother said flatly, finally opening her eyes to watch my reaction.

"Yeah I heard you, but I don't believe you," I said. "Are you on drugs? Did you hit your head? This is not a funny joke, mother," I snapped, standing hands on hips.

My mother shook her head. "Come with me, you need to see something," she said, taking my hand.