"I can feel your glare, Angel." John says as I stare at the side of his face, my arms folded in front of me, leaning against the door frame.

"Good." I mutter, pushing off the door and entering inside the stripped and redone warehouse.

My gaze goes from one end of the warehouse to the next, taking in every speck of detail I can.

"You live here?"

"Momentarily." John says, staring over his shoulder at me.

I run my eyes down his figure before turning from him, walking for the staircase over the makeshift kitchen, walking up the wooden steps to the studio above it, my eyes going from one bed to the next.

"You don't live alone." I state.

"I don't." I hear him right behind me and I turn, staring at him as he stalks up the steps, the wood groaning under his weight and he passes by me, his shoulder brushing mine.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need," He lifts a hand to encompass a mattress, "You can have my bed, I'm sure Romeo won't mind me using his."

"Or I could just sleep in Romeo's if he's not here."

"No." John says, not elaborating on his answer.

I laugh, shaking my head before staring back at the stairs I just walked up, tracing the way down to the doorway.

I debate going to Andy's when I remember that she is out of town, which means her house is off limits with the amount of booby traps she would've set up to keep her equipment safe.

I sigh before turning and staring at John where he stands, his eyes watching me, waiting for me to decide.

My eyes go to the second bed.

"Romeo won't mind." John says, seeing where my gaze went.

"Only for a few days." I answer, walking towards his bed and taking a seat on the mattress, staring up at him under my lashes. "And then I'm leaving."

"If you say so, Angel."

"I do."

He chuckles, shaking his head before he looks down at his shirt, at the blood staining it.

He lifts his arms, muscles training and contracting as he takes hold of the shirt at the back of his neck, pulling it over his head.

I swallow, looking away from the sight of his muscles on display.

"Do I make you nervous, Angel?"

I look back at him, standing from the bed. "I just don't like being the cause of someone being injured."

John blinks back at me, "Didn't you kill someone tonight."

"That's different, they deserved it."

"And I don't?" He asks, stepping closer to me. He lifts a hand, dragging it along my collarbone, "Do I not deserve your ire?"

I swallow the lump in my throat, "You haven't done anything to warrant it yet."

John smiles, his dimple popping. "Give it time." 

I look away from his mesmerising gaze, pointing to the bed. "Sit down."

"Are you going to stitch me up again?" He murmurs lowly but takes a  seat, he looks up at me, leaning back on his hands, shirt balled up beside him.

He lifts a taunting brow when I don't answer, his smile stretching.

I get down on my knees in front of him so I can see the wound clearly, reaching up with probing fingers.

John looks down at me, his smouldering gaze heating my skin, but he says nothing.

I set to work, checking the surrounding flesh, my gaze drawn to the scar from the first bullet hole I'd stitched up only centimetres from this one.

I blink at the flash of metal I can see, lifting up on my knees to check the back of his shoulder but find no exit.

"The bullet is still in there." I mutter, my eyes moving to john to see him looking at me, his face millimetres rom mine, hand having dropped to steady my hip. "I have to remove it before stitching you up." I whisper.

Johns' fingers flex before he let's me go and I settle back.

"Do you have anything here I can use to remove it?"

John shakes his head, lifting a brow. "Use your fingers, I'll be fine."

I look back at the bullet hole, "It's  not wide enough."

"Make it wider." He murmurs, voice rough.

I flick my gaze to his, staring between his eyes before nodding.

Lifting myself up, using his knees for leverage just because I can, I stare around for a dagger or sharp instrument.

"The pillow." John flicks his chin to it, and my attention follows before a walk over and reach under his pillow, palm finding the handle of a dagger and removing it from its home under the cushion. 

I settle back in front of John, kneeling in front of him before lifting the dagger, slicing at the skin next to the bullet hole, widening the injury.

My gaze snaps to Johns but he doesn't flinch, doesn't even make a sound as he watches me work, as if he can't feel a thing.

Once I'm happy with the cut, I rest the dagger beside me, moving my fingers to the bullet hole and inserting them, digging around the wound until my fingers close around the bullet, wiggling it back and forth as I try to remove it.

It releases with a squelch, the bullet dropping out to roll in my palm, John's blood coating my hands.

I drop the bullet beside me before checking the wound again, and look back to Johns eyes, "Do you have needle and thread, assuming you don't have sutures?"

John looks down at the injury, his face contemplative. "In the bathroom, under the sink."

I nod, lifting myself up before walking for the bathroom, finding the kit, and walking back.

• • •

I grab John's shirt, tearing a piece off before wrapping it around his shoulder, covering the wound and my homemade stitches.

I look up to find John's brow raises, his face incredulous.

"That was my shirt."

"You didn't have bandages." I answer the question he didn't ask.

"Yeah, but now I have one less shirt in my closet."

"It was ruined anyway."

"You just want to keep me half naked and susceptible to your whims." He grins at me, tilting his head, "Admit it Angel, your attracted to me." 

I scoff under my breath, "I'm attracted to good looking things; personalities matter though and yours? Debatable."

"Wrong, Angel." John says as he stands up, leaving my kneeling in front of him, my face in a very compromising position. "You love me."

I narrow my eyes on the man, and he grins, knowing what he just did.

I lift a hand settling it on his hip as I bring my lips to his lower stomach, placing a delicate kiss on the edge of his V, the muscles contracting under my lips.

"Lies." I murmur, slowly standing up, keeping my hand on his skin. "It is you, who loves me."

John's eyes darken, his voice low and guttural as he replies.

"With all my being, Angel." His answer surprises me and I take the smallest step back. "You could have my heart, and I would break it for you." He whispers, lifting a hand to my neck, drawing my face closer to his, lips moving against mine as he finishes, "That is how much I love you."

My heart pounds in my chest, breaths coming in spurts from my lips, fluttering across his.

He kisses me, the action lazy, drawing me in and keeping me in place, floating above it all.

The door opens from below us and I spin, ripping my lips from his, hand reaching for the dagger on the ground before pausing when I see the familiar face of Romeo entering the warehouse.

"John, something has happened with-" He stops at the sight of me, his eyes swinging to John's before he shakes his head and walks back out the door.

I lift a brow at the behaviour, the man was a lot more accommodating last time I saw him.

I turn back to John, "Romeo won't mind?" I remind him of what he'd said, raising my brow mockingly.

John doesn't take the bait, "Nope."

He turns from me, walking for the bathroom, pausing at the threshold and looking back at me.

"If you need me, you know where I'll be."

I raise my brows, but don't take him up on his less than subtle offer, watching him shut the bathroom door behind him.