Resisting the Bad Boy - A Standalone Bad Boy Romance

by Gabi Moore

  “Then we can’t waste time.” Milo gestured to Lester. “Get these two some food—the faster we can get them recovered, the better. I’ll grab Cheng’s extra clothes.”

  Aurora didn’t dare mention the extra clothes Lucien was supposed to bring for her; he’d obviously been a little preoccupied. Still, sneakers would have been nice.

  It was another hour before they were all gathering to head out the door, clothes and all. Again, Lester went through the process of warding them each—with many curses and staring over again. Aurora felt for him, feeling new and unprepared for what the situation needed. Not to mention overwhelmed. Overwhelmed was a sensation she was really getting accustomed to.

  Through it all, Mr. Cheng was rather silent. Aurora hadn’t had a chance to speak with him, but he managed to dress (covering a large, beautiful tiger tattoo on his back that Aurora just got a glimpse of) and eat the food pushed at him without difficulty. Afterwards, he really did look much better, but Aurora couldn’t stop thinking of the way he’d kissed Madame Moreau’s cheek just before she died.

  Her heart squeezed. She had never imagined… Moreau had never been married, and she had never showed an interest in one man or another. Aurora had never seen her and Cheng together, but no doubt Moreau would have hidden any feelings for him then, too. It didn’t fit in with her glamorous image, loving a humble old Chinese-American dress-maker.

  But there had been a time when they were young, and far from here. She could picture it, just barely, Estelle Moreau as a mademoiselle instead of a madam. Mr. Cheng, young and strong. What a strange love story it made, but then, there were much stranger things.

  When it came to Mr. Cheng’s turn to be hidden by magic, Lester seemed to have an especially hard time. Frustrated, he dropped his hands after several tries.

  “It’s like there’s something in the way,” he complained.

  Milo didn’t reply, but he frowned; his eyebrows were furrowed together, as if he were concentrating. Mr. Cheng waved a hand.

  “Not important. Ward her,” he gestured at Aurora.

  “But why can’t I—”

  “Hide her, first,” Mr. Cheng insisted stiffly. He was easily the shortest member of their group, but he drew himself up straight and set his jaw. “No need to worry about this old man so much.”

  “What if they find us through you?” Lucien asked, crossing his thick arms.

  “They will not,” Cheng replied firmly. “Besides. Lester will hide you well. They will not see you, even if they come for me. No time to worry.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Lucien muttered. “All right, then. I guess get Aurora cloaked, too, Lester. Your best ward—she’s the most important right now.”

  And with that uncomfortable comment, Aurora submitted uneasily to standing perfectly still and having a spell put on her. She’d never in her life imagined this happening; she’d never been a huge fantasy fan, preferring crime fiction and mystery novels, herself. Her daydreams usually included police work and private investigation, not magic. She didn’t know what to expect.

  “And don’t screw it up,” Milo added playfully. “We need her in one piece.”

  Well, Aurora hadn’t been terribly nervous until that comment. She swallowed and grit her teeth. Her face probably looked most frightened, because Milo was wearing a smirk and Lucien smiled uncertainly at her.

  Lester stood in front of her and rubbed his hands together. She’d never really looked closely at his face, since he usually stayed out of the way and avoided her. “Okay. Let’s make a ward.”

  Her nerves were reaching a pitch; in the attempt to distract herself, Aurora shut her eyes and tried to watch it all through the strange second sight she’d discovered earlier. Milo had said she had control of it—it would be safe to use while Lester was casting a spell, surely.

  Again, in her mind, Aurora saw the shadowy second world draw forward. It was much easier this time. Maybe it was easier this time because she knew what to look for, but she slipped into the second sight without a moment’s hesitation. There were the glowing motes of energy again; Aurora was careful not to draw them to her consciously.

  The others appeared as conglomerates of light in her mind. Millions of tiny specks made them up, giving a clear impression of their form and place. Milo was just the same as he had been. Lucien radiated light like a sun. Lester, too, was a mass of light dots; Aurora watched in awe as he cast the spell, which she could also see in the form of weaving energy constellations, like stars. They wrapped around her and ordered to her form, like a suit of magic from head to toe, like the ones he’d made for the others.

  But when Aurora looked at Mr. Cheng, she paused. His body was filled with motes of light, too, but not nearly as many. The others (and Aurora herself) were burning with energy; but amid all the light motes in Mr. Cheng, there were specks of darkness, like pieces of ash.

  Death. The voice was far too clear in her head. Frightfully clear.

  Aurora snapped out of her second sight as Lester finished the spell. She didn’t mention the darkness in Mr. Cheng, although it did not leave her mind. When she’d taken Milo’s energy before, she had also exhaled ash specks just like that, leaving her rejuvenated and refreshed. What were they? Why were they gathered in Mr. Cheng? Was he sick? Was Mr. Cheng… dying?

  That would have been too much to face, on top of the rest, so Aurora followed the group as they filed out of the apartment. There would be a time to ask about it later. Mr. Cheng was probably just tired from his fight, she convinced herself. It was nothing to worry about.

  Down the elevator they travelled (a relief to Aurora, who had to struggle back into her high heeled boots) and several blocks over to where Milo had parked his car. In daylight, it was actually a dark, dark maroon color. Nice.

  “Where to?” Milo asked Mr. Cheng. They had all piled in, Aurora squished in the back between Lucien and Lester. Mr. Cheng was sitting up front; she sighed, but it wasn’t too surprising that they should refuse to let her have shotgun. They were treating her more carefully than the president’s daughter.

  “Head to Manhattan. I’ll tell you more when we cross over the bridge,” Mr. Cheng answered.

  Sitting in the back, Aurora eyed him closely. She’d never heard him use contractions before, but none of the others seemed to notice, so she shrugged it off. He’d probably played up his Chinese accent when acting like a simple dress repair man all these years. Hell, if he was over two hundred years old, he probably spoke a few more languages than just Chinese and English.

  As far as car rides go, this one was particularly unpleasant. Aurora didn’t spend much time in cars (she almost always took the train) and she couldn’t remember ever being packed like sardines into a sedan like this. Not much fun, and having both Lester and Lucien glance awkwardly at her leather pants every now and then was not helping her mood. She really needed a change of clothes.

  Traffic sucked, as usual; it was evening before they got over the bridge to Upper East Side. Moreau’s shop was less than an hour walk from here, Aurora recalled with a pang. At least she didn’t have to worry about being late for work, apparently ever again. Still… she would rather be headed to an overtime shift right now.

  When prodded, Mr. Cheng provided more directions, left, right, two blocks up, so on so forth. Aurora wasn’t familiar with this part of town, but Milo seemed to be, and without trouble they reached a parking structure.

  “Twenty bucks for parking,” Milo muttered, handing over a couple bills to the bored-looking attendant. “That’s highway robbery.”

  “Move along,” the attendant snapped. The bar rose, and Milo pulled them into the garage.

  “Is there anything nearby?” Lucien asked from the back.

  Milo hadn’t even managed to park yet, but he seemed to think about it. Aurora wanted to tell him not to telepath and drive, but before she got the chance he shook his head. “Not that I can tell. Usually cement makes psychic energy reverberate like sound, so if there’s something in here,
I should hear it. Nothing. Not even those pesky little shadow brats.”

  Shadow brats? Aurora didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  Even for twenty dollars a pop, there seemed to be nowhere on the first three floors. Finally an empty spot appeared once they reached the fourth, and Milo slipped the car into it far too fast for Aurora’s liking; she almost screeched at how close they came to the cars on either side.

  “Worried?” Milo asked her, turning back with an innocent grin.

  “It’s your car, do what you want!”

  Milo was laughing as Lester and Lucien both opened their doors and squeezed out on either side; it was a small parking spot. Aurora scooted out of Lucien’s side, but Mr. Cheng hadn’t budged.

  “Mr. Cheng?” she asked. Lucien frowned.

  “Hey, old man,” he called. “You coming with?”

  Cheng’s reply came after a long pause. Aurora glanced at the others, trying to decide if they were as worried as she was; honestly, they all looked pretty concerned, but she still hadn’t bothered to share what she’d seen with the ash fragments in Mr. Cheng. Did they have a reason to be worried?

  He finally looked at them and nodded his head. “Yes.” And then he crawled from the car, shut the door, and the five of them stood together in the cold, cold parking garage. “This way,” he said before anyone could ask, and led them to the stairwell.

  If the car ride was tense, the walk was worse. It was getting dark, and Aurora felt eyes on her. On the rich side of the bay, most of the people on the street were bundled in expensive coats, unconcerned about muggers or anything else, for that matter. No one else on the street, outside their out-of-place group, seemed to share the feeling of dread. The peculiar feeling that there was something hiding nearby.

  “Well, this is nice,” Milo muttered.

  “Don’t remind me,” Lucien muttered back.

  They were walking together as inconspicuously as possible—as inconspicuous as a bizarre group of comrades can look. Aurora, by far, was drawing the most attention, even after she’d zipped the coat up to hide her scanty top. Leather pants just don’t blend into a crowd well, even in Manhattan.

  Lucien’s nose twitched. “Smell that, old man? There’s something dead around here.”

  “Something dead?” Aurora hissed.

  “Nothing for us to worry about,” Mr. Cheng replied. He was walking at the front, leading the way towards a skyscraper that reared towards the blossoming stars against the skyline. Lights were burning like Lego blocks up and down its sides, and Aurora wondered strangely if one of them was the room they were headed to.

  Just to test, she slipped into her second sight again. It was strange and exhilarating, something that seemed so close. It was shocking that she had never accessed it by mistake, it was so easy. The world disappeared in a curtain of gray as she closed her eyes, and then the lights! The people on the street became clusters of golden stars, walking past. Some brighter than others, some scarce. A muted glow showed through building walls, showing people just on the other side.

  And again, Aurora looked through Cheng, and saw speckles of floating black. Now wasn’t the time to mention it, though, not if Cheng was determined to ignore it. When they got to the next safehouse would be a much better time—Aurora would wait just a little longer.

  The darkness was nearly full by the time they walked into the lobby of the building; it was a condo complex, from the look of the inside. Mr. Cheng didn’t stop at the desk—or at all. Pushing through the crowd (almost rudely, which Aurora thought strange) he made a beeline straight for the elevators and jammed the ‘up’ button. The others were just behind him. Milo, Lester, and Lucien were watching the lobby, eyeing everyone nearby, scanning faces. Aurora, still watching in her second sight, had her eyes on Mr. Cheng.

  “Mr. Cheng?” she asked softly as they waited. “Are… are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he replied curtly, not quite a snap. Like someone who is afraid their voice will crack if they try to speak. Aurora didn’t try to press. He was obviously still upset, she reasoned. There would be time later.

  The elevator dinged, and the doors sighed open, smooth as grease. That’s what money bought you, Aurora could only guess. The building she’d lived in with her mother hadn’t even had an elevator, just a whole lot of stairs. New York had a wide price range, but the Potiers had always been close to the bottom.

  Aurora hid her admiration at the beautiful elevator interior as the doors closed them all in. Mercifully, there was no one else with them. No one had bothered to step into the same lift as their strange group.

  Mr. Cheng started to reach for the floor buttons, but his hand shook so badly. Lucien and Milo exchanged a glance; they seemed to silently ask each other whether they should help, or let it be. Finally, Cheng hit the access request for the penthouse.

  Silence fell in the elevator. Shocked, Aurora saw the dark particles had converged on Cheng’s arm. His arm—the same one he’d used to press the button—was black with them. Like… they were forcing him along.

  Meanwhile, in the penthouse, someone had approved their request.

  Chapter 11

  Mr. Cheng fell in a heap on the elevator floor, motionless. Lucien cursed and dived to catch him; Milo punched every other button on the panel, but the elevator moved relentlessly upward. Lester’s brown eyes were wide.

  For her part, Aurora was trying to remain calm. If she understood right, the person after her was the same who’d made her mother disappear. The same who had been hunting her for years. The same who had gouged out Amy and Katrina’s eyes and tongues, thinking they might be her.

  Fear closed her throat. Aurora backed into the corner of the elevator like a bird in a cage, feeling them all hurtle upwards to none knew where. Furiously, like a bullet under pressure, it seemed the elevator was shooting through the shaft, falling upwards impossibly fast.

  “Stop this thing!” Lucien hissed, trying to shake Cheng awake.

  “The panel’s off!” Milo snapped, still slapping buttons. He even tried the emergency stop—nothing, nothing but relentless ascension. “Can you—I don’t know, can’t we crawl out through the ceiling or something?”

  “While the elevator is moving?”

  “Lester, can you stop this thing?”

  Wide-eyed, Lester shook his head. “If I even try, I could snap the cable. I don’t have the skill to do anything about it safely, not when we’re moving like this.”

  Milo punched the elevator panel again and cursed through his grit teeth.

  “Mr. Cheng!” Lucien called, smacking his face carefully, gingerly, as if afraid to hurt him. Indeed, Cheng looked frailer than ever, more fragile than when he’d staggered in the Lucien’s door a few hours past. What was going on? What was happening? Aurora had no answers. Her mind was blank, with no thought except the numbers ticking up… up… up…

  “Dammit, Ian,” Milo muttered. “He must have done something to Cheng. Some kind of—shit, it was that trippy mind-magic he can do. Since when is he so good at that?”

  “Aurora,” Lucian turned to her at once. “Look at Cheng—can you see anything strange about him?”

  Why now, when the elevator was reaching the penthouse? Aurora knew what Lucien meant, and slipped into her magical sight immediately. The black ashes were gone from Cheng’s body, replaced by golden particles of life, although they were fewer now. It pieced together in her head as her eyes flipped back into normal vision.

  “Not now, but earlier there… there was like… ashes, in him. I don’t see them in you or Milo or Lester, or anybody else.”

  “Not in you?”

  His face was intent—he already knew. Aurora shook her head. “No, I see them in me, too. Am I…”

  “In danger? Not from this.” Lucien looked up at the numbers on the dial. “But soon, we’re all going to be in a tight spot.”

  “Will my father try to kill us?” she whispered.

  “Not us. Just you.”

  Just as she had
feared. “What do we do?” Aurora was willing her voice to be calm, and was even succeeding a little. Considering the numbers on the elevator dial were beginning to make her hysterical, this was an accomplishment. Two out of three ain’t bad.

  “You stay back,” Milo told her firmly. “Stay back, and let us handle it. Ian will want to get you alone—and who knows, maybe he wants to off us, too. But I doubt it,” Milo sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t believe we walked into this… No, he won’t try to kill the rest of us. Being a part of the circle is what gives him immortality. You and he aren’t true vampires, after all, and he can’t live forever without us.”

  “So you guys will be fine, at least,” she heard herself say. There were eighty-seven floors, and they had passed eighty-five. It seemed like they should have been at five hundred, by now, they had seemed to be going so fast. But knowing the others were not in danger, Aurora felt oddly… calm. For her, Katrina had been killed and Amy mutilated. For her, Ramona had vanished in the night. Cheng had been injured. Moreau had passed on.

  This time, at least, no one was interested in hurting the others. Only if they got in the way.

  Only if they try to stop me.

  The voice sent ice into her very bones as the elevator came to a halt at the penthouse. It was the same one from before, the one she had heard in her head when she’d first entered the second sight. The one that had told her to take more energy from Milo.

  Aurora shivered. Dad?

  The elevator doors opened. Aurora and Lester watched from the back as Lucien and Milo exchanged a dark look and sighed. Not much choice. They could camp in the elevator, but that would only delay; eventually, someone would come looking for them. So with resignation, Lucien draped Mr. Cheng (who hung like a limp doll) over his shoulder and the four of them stepped cautiously into a fine, wood-paneled anteroom.

  They’ve lied to you.

  The voice seemed to echo into her ears, swirl around the room. Aurora thought for a moment that they could all hear it, but no. In her heart, it was plain that this voice was for her only.