Alluring Passion: A MM Contemporary Bundle

by Peter Styles

  I went into survival mode. My brain was filled with fear, pushing out everything other than what I knew was about to happen. I struck out with an aimless kick and let out a shout, but a hard blow to the back of my head left me limp. I tried weakly to find my footing, but I couldn’t; one of the guys had pushed me so hard over the counter that only the tips of my shoes touched the carpet. I tried to yell again, but a rough hand wrapped around my neck and squeezed until my voice died.

  I felt myself starting to float away from my body and saw myself bent over the desk, my hands scrabbling weakly, and I could see Black Beard smirking with pride as Tweedle Dum tugged at my waistband. I could see the rough paint of the desk against my cheek but, instead, I could feel cold tile. The soft sounds of struggle were replaced with jeering laughter. The edges blurred away until the store had morphed into my high school locker room, and there were even more boys huddled around me, tall and gangly with teenaged gawkiness. Nothing felt real, but it was all brutally visceral nonetheless.

  And then, with a flash, I was back in my body, and all I could hear was screaming.

  I blinked and stumbled to my feet. I turned to look behind me, but I moved like I was stuck in molasses; the hit to my head had dazed me, and I wasn’t sure how much time had passed or what was happening.

  What I saw when I turned around was completely surreal.

  A huge man in all black slammed Tweedle Dee into the back wall, and I winced as I heard plastic crinkling—even in that moment, my nerd priorities reminded me that the value of the figures getting crushed had just been seriously reduced. Tweedle Dee fell to the floor, slumped over. I couldn’t tell if he was still conscious, but it didn’t seem likely. Tweedle Dum snatched up the gun with a snarl and brought the butt of it down on the intruder’s head, but it had no effect at all; instead, the intruder shot out his long leg in a sharp kick aimed right at Tweedle Dum’s pelvis. He let out an airless squeak and stumbled back into Black Beard, who let out an angry yelp. The intruder kicked hard at Tweedle Dum’s hand, and the gun slid across the floor. “Grab it!” a harsh, deep voice shouted, and it took me a second to realize that he was saying it to me. I dove for it, snatching it up and hurrying around the other side of the counter. The gun was warm and sticky in my hand, and just touching it made me sick to my stomach.

  The flurry of activity died down. The intruder came out from behind the counter, panting. “I tied them up,” he said, his voice gruff. He barely seemed winded, even though I’d seen Black Beard try to take a couple of pot shots at him. “I sent out a message to the police, but I don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

  “Right,” I said. I took in his goggles and his black mask. “Right. That wouldn’t be good for you.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.” Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could feel him looking me over. “Are you alright?”

  I looked down. My fly was open and my jeans had been tugged down an inch or so, but my underwear was still in place. I set the gun down with a shaky hand and hurriedly righted my pants. My face felt like it was on fire. I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away as hard as I could. I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, especially not then, and especially not when I was standing in front of the person that had just saved me, who happened to be a real-life superhero.

  “Sir?” he said, and I felt even dumber, sitting there in silence and trying to stifle my tears.

  “I’m fine,” I said, my voice tight.

  “Are you sure?” He stretched out a hand, looking like he was going to place it on my shoulder, but he thought better of it. Instead, his hand just hovered there, held in place by some invisible barrier.

  I couldn’t decide whether I wanted him to touch me or not. On the one hand, I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone to be anywhere near me for the next week, on the other, the timidity of it made me angry. The idea that he didn’t want to touch me made me feel dirty, and my stomach churned because of it. “I’m fine,” I said, and it came out much harsher than I meant it to, especially considering I was talking to my savior. I took a deep breath. “Really,” I said, my voice steadier. “I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just a little… tense.”

  “Somehow, I can understand that.” It was entirely deadpan, but it made me want to laugh anyway. I didn’t; I didn’t want to look hysterical.

  “Let me help you get home,” the Shadow Hunter suggested. “The ropes should hold them for a while.”

  I thought about telling him no, but the prospect of driving home alone was way too daunting. “Yeah.” I looked around for a second. “Do you have a Batmobile or something?”

  “I prefer walking.”

  I sighed. “Of course you do.” I ran a hand through my hair and looked over at the lumps I could see poking up just over the counter. “I can give you a ride, but are you sure the ropes will hold?”

  “I’m sure. They’re made of a special polymer. It’s nearly unbreakable.”

  “Either way.” I ushered the Shadow Hunter out of the front door and locked it behind me. “They won’t be able to unlock it,” I explained. “It can only be locked and unlocked with a key.”

  “The police will break the door down.”

  “Tell them to put Officer Carson on the response team,” I said, leading him back to the parking lot. Even as we walked, I kept an eye on him the whole time; savior or not, I wasn’t in much of a mood to trust anyone. “He does some work for me sometimes when I need a day off. He has a copy of the key.”

  “Will do.” He sent a quick text from his phone. “I said the robbers were alone when I found them. I didn’t think you’d want to talk to the police.”

  I let out a long sigh of relief. “You were right,” I said, gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “It’s not a problem. It’s my job to protect this city and the people in it.”

  I smiled. “Of course it is.” I unlocked the door and watched him get in the passenger side. His legs were scrunched up, his knees near his chest. “You can adjust the seat, if you want.”

  “It’s fine,” he said awkwardly, pulling at his capelet where it got caught in the door. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “It’s moving a car seat. You just saved my life. I don’t think this counts as imposing.”

  He gave me a curt nod and moved the seat back. In spite of his protests, he looked relieved.

  We drove in silence. I heard sirens and saw cop cars whizzing by me as I drove, but I didn’t even flinch. All of the adrenaline had drained out of me, and I was left feeling completely numb. It was actually sort of pleasant; I was disappointed that it was going to have to wear off. I’d been told before that I was good in a crisis, and I guess it was true, but I’d seen myself after a crisis before, and I knew that I wasn’t exactly the best with that.

  As we neared the boardinghouse, I said, almost as a reminder to myself, “I told them about new book day.”

  The Shadow Hunter looked at me quizzically. “I’m sorry?”

  “New book day. When all the new comics get delivered. It’s always on Wednesdays. I told them that’s when I get the most money.” I swallowed hard, and my heart skipped a beat; that was about all the panic my exhausted senses could manage. “They might come back. Criminals do that, right? They come back sometimes. Get revenge and all that.”

  “Not that I’ve seen,” the Shadow Hunter said, “but it’s not an unreasonable assumption.” I felt his eyes on me. He must have seen something on my face that I didn’t even realize I was feeling, because he added, “I’d be happy to escort you to your car at night.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. My eyes were prickling again. “Really?”

  “It’s my job to protect those who need it and you’ve been threatened. I’ll do all I can to help.”

  “Thanks.” I coughed, trying to cover up the way my voice had started to warble. “I appreciate that. I hope it won’t cut into your lifesaving time.”

  “I think I can spare ten minutes a night.”
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br />   I nodded. The lump in my throat was too big to speak around, so I didn’t try.

  When we got to the boardinghouse, I parked in my spot and tried to think of something to say. I didn’t know what to say to him. What was the appropriate etiquette when it came to thanking a superhero for saving your life? The Shadow Hunter may not have had actual powers, but he was as close to super as a human could get. Other than an upside-down kiss in the rain, I couldn’t think of what to do. It was, I suddenly decided, one of the greatest failings of comic books.

  I turned to him, still thinking, but he was already gone.

  I walked in. Ronaldo barely even gave me a nod. Olga’s kitchen, thank God, was mostly empty; the girls were apparently all in their apartments, either working or relaxing. A note from Olga was pinned to a board by the staircase, where she told me she’d get me the money for the new cameras by the end of the week. I took it and made my way up the stairs as silently as I could. Every creak and groan that came from behind a door made me wince, and I half-ran up the steps. When I got to my apartment, I slammed the door behind me, and I secured all three locks with shaking fingers, double and triple checking them before I was satisfied.

  I had been hungry before I left the store, but that feeling had left. It had been replaced by nausea. My head was starting to pound; I checked my eyes in the bathroom mirror and checked for symptoms of a concussion, but it seemed I hadn’t been hit quite that hard. He hadn’t done enough damage for something to go seriously wrong, but definitely enough to give me a splitting headache. I choked down a few aspirin and a glass of water. My stomach tried to rebel, but I managed to keep it all down.

  Normally, when I got home on a night when I knew I’d be alone, my pants come off almost as soon as I walk in the door. That night, I could barely even get my shoes off. I wanted to shower, but the idea of exposing my body—even to myself—made my skin crawl even worse than the memories of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum holding me down.

  I stood in the darkness, looking around at my tiny apartment. Every single shadow looked sinister; the glints off the windows and appliances all looked like eyes. I was normally comfortable with the dark, but it was intolerable that night and I ended up turning on every light in the small room, making my apartment look like it was located in the middle of the sun.

  I still wasn’t comfortable, but I knew I wasn’t going to be. There wasn’t anything more I could do.

  I pulled out my phone and texted Leonard. “Hey, could you go to the store and sign for the packages tomorrow? You don’t have to open, you just need to be there when UPS comes by.”

  “Will I get paid my usual rate?” I almost rolled my eyes at the response. That was Leonard all over. I wasn’t exactly surprised that he didn’t ask how I was doing, and I wasn’t terribly disappointed about it, but it still would have been the polite thing to do. Instead, he was more concerned about getting the store credit I gave him for working when I needed a day off.

  “Yeah. Just hang out until UPS gets there and then lock up.”

  “Can I go through the boxes for my pulls?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. I wanted to say no—Leonard was notorious for his sloppy unpacking, and he’d been known to bend and tear plenty of books in the process, but I was too tired to argue. “Sure.”

  “Will do,” he replied. And then, a minute later, almost as an afterthought, “Hope you’re doing okay.” I wondered if his mom had reminded him to be polite or if he was finally learning. I decided it didn’t really matter either way; I wasn’t going to respond anyway.

  I dragged myself over to my bed, still fully clothed, and slid into it. It was a cold night, thankfully, so I wrapped myself in my heaviest blankets, surrounding myself in a cocoon of fleece and goose down. I grabbed a bottle of pills off my nightstand and shook a few into my hand. They tasted powdery and just a little sweet on my tongue. I was glad my doctor let me keep my Xanax prescription, even after I’d stopped seeing my therapist; some nights, it was the only way I could sleep.

  This was one of those nights.

  Chapter Six

  I must have underestimated how high of a dosage I’d taken, because I ended up sleeping for almost fourteen hours. When I woke up, I felt hungover; my head ached, even without help from the tender bump on the back of my skull, and my eyelids felt like lead. Even after I woke up, it took me a while just to open my eyes and keep them that way.

  Sleeping hadn’t offered much relief. While Xanax could put me to sleep, one thing my doctor hadn’t told me was that it could also give me a lot of weird dreams—and not “walking around in your high school in your underwear” dreams. I had apparently spent the night thrashing around, because I woke up with my blankets tangled around me, my clothes from the night before sticking to me with sweat, and my head filled with memories of dreams where I always seemed to have a gun pointing at me. Phantom laughter was still playing in my head when I managed to dislodge myself from the nest of my bed.

  My phone had collected a ton of messages, but I only checked a few. I knew that most of them would be customers who were furious that they weren’t getting their comics that day. Hell hath no fury like a nerd being asked to sacrifice literally anything. I sent out a mass text containing a half-truth: because I knew they’d see it in the paper or hear about it from Aaron, I explained that the store had been robbed and that the store would be closed until I could get a good idea of the damage that had been done. I thought of the crumpled, crushed figures and sighed; not only had it been a horrible night, but I’d also lost profits because of it. Great.

  The only texts I looked at were from Aaron, Christy and Gary. Aaron’s texts were all about the robbery and what had evidently happened. I appreciated the information, as unnecessary and untrue as it all was. Christy and Gary had both gotten the text blast about the store closing, and they were understandably worried; I could barely be persuaded to close the shop for major holidays. If it had been a garden-variety burglary and I hadn’t been there, I probably would have gone straight back in the next day. Even my dad thought my devotion to the shop was a little excessive, and he was the reason I had it in the first place.

  I ignored the texts. I honestly couldn’t think of what to say. Facing my friends was even more daunting than facing a faceless hero. My friends cared way too much about me; I had to be okay when talking to them. If I wasn’t, it meant there was something really, really wrong, and I didn’t want that to be the case.

  I wandered to the kitchen area and opened the fridge, staring mindlessly into it. There was plenty of food, but nothing I wanted to eat. Even assembling a sandwich was too much effort. I thought about calling for delivery, but I didn’t want to speak to anyone. I decided I could go without eating—after all, I’d gotten so hungry over the course of my very long night that I had circled back around and was no longer hungry at all.

  My phone started buzzing away. I didn’t even check the caller I.D.; I just turned it off.

  I took a thorough, hot, but fast shower, dried myself faster than I thought humanly possible, and crawled into a sweatshirt and sweatpants. I was about to worm my way back into my little blanket mound when I heard pounding on my door.

  “Harris?” Christy’s voice called. “Harris, sweetie, are you in there?”

  There was another, louder, more measured knock. “Harris?” It was Gary. “Dude, Leonard messaged me and said you left him in charge on new book day, and I was legitimately worried you’d died.”

  “We’re still a little worried you’re dead!” Christy admitted. “So if you’d open up, we’d really appreciate it.”

  “Go away,” I tried to say, but my throat was dry and it came out as little more than a hoarse rasp. The knocking continued.

  I groaned and forced myself up and out of bed. I opened the door to see my friends both looking completely terrified. “Jesus, Harris,” Gary breathed, “are you okay? You look like hell.”

  I snorted. “Thanks, man. Fuck you too.”

  “Not in that way,” G
ary started to say, but Christy gave him a hard nudge in the ribs with her elbow and he fell silent.

  “We’re just worried about you,” she said, batting her eyelashes at me. I may have been as gay as Elton John wearing a rainbow flag, but even I wasn’t immune to the heart-melting properties of her baby blue eyes. “We heard about what happened at the store. How much was taken?”

  “Not much,” I said. “Just some figures got smashed up.”

  “Really?” Gary asked, skeptically. “Because you look pretty devastated for that to be it.”

  I glared at him. “They were nice figures,” I said flatly, rubbing at my eyes. In spite of all the sleep I’d gotten, I felt completely exhausted. “Guys, I really appreciate you stopping in, but I had a really, really bad night, okay? I’d like to just go back to relaxing and sleeping.”

  “I understand,” Christy said, her voice even. “I’m sure a nap will get rid of the bruises.”

  I frowned. “Bruises?”

  “Yeah. Haven’t you looked in a mirror?” She pulled a compact out of her pocket and handed it to me.

  I flipped it open and saw what looked like tiger strips across the length of my neck. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered. I ran my fingers over the dark marks. For a second, I was confused, but then I remembered the hand wrapped around my throat. I swallowed, watching my Adam’s apple bob beneath the bruises and feeling extremely lucky to be alive.

  “Yeah,” Gary said, nodding. “And I’m not expert, but I’d be willing to guess that where there’s one bruise like that, there’s others.”

  “So?” I groused.

  “So you’re not telling us what happened.” Christy folded her arms, plumping up her breasts. I almost felt bad that the effect was so wasted on me. “We’re not leaving until you explain yourself.”

  I ran a hand over my face. “You guys, I’m way too fucking tired to deal with this right now. Can we table this?”

  “If you want me to call your dad, then sure,” Gary said, and all of us immediately knew he had me on the ropes. My parents living in Florida had pushed me to try to never need anything from them. If they found out what had happened, they would come back in a heartbeat, and I didn’t want to disrupt their lives like that.