Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Wait, she was fae?” he asked. I could tell he was just as shocked as I was when I first encountered her abilities.

  I finally nodded.

  “No way. I didn’t even know purebred fae still existed.” His awestruck reaction to her had a weird feeling of jealousy bubbling up inside me. I pushed it aside, not needing stupid female hormones to cloud my judgment yet again.

  He looked from my face, down to my hands, and back to my face again, adjusting his amulet around to the front of him like before. He was probably feeling the effects of my powers now that we were in an enclosed area.

  “Well, are you okay?” he asked, pure concern in his tone and etched all over his face.

  I nodded again, closing my eyes so I didn’t hurt him as we spoke. Maybe if I kept from looking straight into his eyes, it would help. No eye-contact and some serious distractions were what I needed. “Right now, I’m just hungry. I’m not even sure what day it is let alone the last time I ate,” I explained.

  “Shit, I bet you are. Want me to make you something?” he asked. Without me answering him, he began busying himself around the kitchen by looking through my cabinets, which were no doubt bare. I heard and felt each and every time he opened and closed the small, wooden doors.

  I chuckled when I heard him open the fridge. His sigh was quite comical.

  “Do you just plan to starve?” he asked in exasperation. I laughed again, never opening my eyes. Regardless, I could still feel his warmth coming toward me, his steps slow and methodical. I didn’t even have to extend my powers out to feel his fire right in front of me, his face lowering down to become level with mine.

  “Open your eyes, please,” he demanded, just as his arms snaked around me, each one of his hands finding purchase against the counter behind me. I could feel his breath on my face, and surprisingly, it calmed me, kept me grounded even though my heart began to pound in my chest.

  I listened to him, to his amazing voice, knowing the blue amulet he wore would at least slow my uncontrollable urge to freeze everything in sight. I hoped.

  He wouldn’t leave me alone if I didn’t humor him and open my eyelids. So, I did. Still concentrating on his breathing, the rhythm a soothing lullaby to my heart, I took time meeting his honey gaze.

  “There… that’s better,” he said with a smile. “Now, what will it be? Dry Lucky Charms with no milk or Ramen Noodles? Because I seriously see nothing else in this kitchen that’s edible.”

  I laughed again and he just rolled his eyes at me.

  “Ramen is fine, thank you.” With a groan, I lifted myself up onto the kitchen counter by the stove, figuring I could at least enjoy watching the man cook for me, even if it was while cooking ramen. Regardless of the fact that I was clearly down for the count for quite a while, I still felt an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. Even my face felt tired. “Branton, how long was I gone?” I asked. I remembered Veli telling me, but I felt like that was a million years ago.

  “Almost two days,” he answered, not looking at me right way. Then, his eyes shot up to meet mine. “You mean, you don’t remember? What the hell did they do to you?”

  I shook my head. “I was unconscious until earlier this evening. Woke up right before that boat parade at the inlet. Fought my way to a church so Dean… well… who I thought was Dean… wouldn’t follow me in.”

  “You thought he was Dean, but he wasn’t?” Branton asked while stirring the noodles in the now-boiling pot of water.

  I nodded. “He was an echo.”

  “Curses,” he said, his voice no more than a breathy hiss. “What the hell are all these beings after?”

  And that was the question of the millennium.

  21

  I took a deep breath, my body feeling way too fucking tired to explain the little bit that I knew. But I also desperately needed an outside opinion.

  And I also wanted to see his reaction.

  And I needed to get the black tourmaline back from the church.

  I hated being so suspicious, especially when it came to Branton, but with how the past month had gone, I couldn’t afford to let my guard down.

  “They’re after this,” I said as I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the snowflake pendant my dad gave me. It felt warm in my hand, which was a seriously odd feeling for me.

  I held it up in the palm of my hand for him to see, the chain long gone in that lot where I buried Sarah under a ton of ice.

  “What the hell would they want with your necklace?” he asked, never really looking at my face or reacting with much emotion other than confusion. His lack of reaction confused me. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it sure as hell was more than I got.

  “I’m not sure. They keep calling it The Relic.” I rolled my eyes at that statement while I placed it back into my jacket pocket, still needing it close to me at all times.

  Branton’s brow furrowed, the creases in his forehead deepening as he thought, his hand never ceasing the mixing of my gourmet dinner. I slumped my shoulders, feeling the exhaustion even more now that I started smelling the spices from the ramen. It might not be much, but gods I was hungry.

  My eyes closed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I could just take a quick catnap here on the counter. The thought of moving even an inch made a new kind of hurt build inside me.

  His voice made me jump.

  “Can I see it?” he asked, his eyes still flooding with concentration and worry as he looked at my face. He held his hand out expectantly, waiting for… for what?

  “Huh?” I asked. I was nothing if not eloquent.

  “Your snowflake. I want to see if there’s something more to it than just a simple pendant,” he explained. Steam rose from the pot and the sound of boiling water wafted through the otherwise quiet kitchen.

  I was too tired to continue being cautious of him. Too tired to even think he was a threat at this point.

  Plus, who would go out of their way to make ramen noodles for someone they were planning to betray?

  Dean’s face popped into my mind and I had to shake my head to rid myself of any such thoughts. It wasn’t really him… it wasn’t really him… I had to keep repeating that over and over again in my head. My best friend didn’t really deceive me. Still, I couldn’t get the memory of him attacking me out of my mind.

  “It’s okay,” Branton said, his voice once again startling me. I must’ve really been out of it. “I know you’re tired. We’ll figure out what the hell this thing is up to after you get some rest.”

  “Nah, I’m okay,” I slurred, batting at his forearm with my lethargic hand. Things were getting blurry all around me, and other than my lack of energy, I couldn’t explain what was happening. The only thing I could think about was that goddamn crystal Sarah had slipped into my pocket. This felt eerily similar. But I ditched that bloody rock back at the church.

  Then, fighting through the haze that was overtaking me, I had a thought.

  “Branton,” I mumbled, my eyes barely able to stay open and focus on him. “Empty your pockets,” I demanded as he reached to shut the burner off on the stove, my noodles probably done. Now food was the furthest thing from my mind.

  Thankfully, he didn’t question me… didn’t bother to hesitate when he looked at me and saw how I was feeling. It was like I was drunk, and not the happy kind of drunk either. He backed up and shrugged, reaching into his pants pockets. It was then that I realized just how delicious he looked in those jeans. Just because I was clearly drugged didn’t mean I was dead.

  And that was when I also remembered the last time I felt this groggy aside from the lot earlier this week—in Branton’s car after that fight with Anwar.

  Was I just power drunk?

  “Shit,” Branton cursed, his voice suddenly urgent and panicked. “Nerium.”

  His movement suddenly became a blur, his feet making a wickedly loud shuffling sound on the hardwood floors of my kitchen as he scurried about. I was way too out of it to figure out what he was up to, unti
l he finally came back to me, his pants now gone.

  Well, that was a pleasant surprise. Too bad I wasn’t going to enjoy it.

  He grabbed both sides of my face with his hands. They were shaking, despite the fact that they were warm and comforting while in contact with my frigid skin. I smiled.

  “You okay?” he asked, worry evident in his voice.

  My head started to clear a little—the fog slowly lifting like a slow, heavy stage curtain around my mind and muscles.

  “What the hell?” I slurred. “What happened?”

  “Someone slipped Nerium in my pockets,” he explained, his eyes never leaving mine as he stood like a statue in front of me, examining me and making sure I was coming back.

  “Sarah.” Her name was no more than a whisper on my lips. I honestly needed to find something else to call her. Using her name seemed to be way too polite. She didn’t deserve an ounce of respect from me after she’d tried to kill me and take what was mine.

  I looked into his eyes again, examining them for any emotion other than concern. Then, I remembered myself… my curse… and how dangerous it was to even glance his way let alone stare him down like I was.

  My eyes darted to the floor.

  And he wasn’t having it. With a simple hook of his finger, his other hand poised gently on my thigh, he brought my face back up using my chin, at the same time demanding I open my eyes and look at him.

  Why did the man insist on pushing me? He had way more faith in me than I did in myself. He was also foolish to think I wouldn’t eventually slip up and put him in danger one of these days.

  Never opening my eyes, I asked, “What the hell is Nerium anyway? And why does it make me feel drunk off my ass?”

  A sigh came from him. He was clearly frustrated that I wouldn’t open my eyes, but he went on anyway, stepping away as he spoke. “Nerium Oleander is an herb that, when ingested, can be toxic to humans. But, I’ve heard of moras reacting differently to the plant, especially oils extracted from it. I’ve just never seen it happen right in front of me.”

  I opened my eyes to see him putting the ramen in a bowl and grabbing a fork for me. I loved that he ate his noodles with a fork too, or at least knew I wanted to.

  He took his time bringing it to me, the heat still causing steam to rise from the liquid in the bowl. “How’d you know I had something in my pockets?” he asked.

  I took my time to answer him, accepting the bowl of food like a starving child in a third world country. Yeah, that was a bad comparison considering I wasn’t even close to starving like others in this world were, but, it was the first thing that popped in my head as I greedily grabbed at the bowl.

  And I didn’t give a flying hoot what he thought about my eating habits at that moment. All I cared about was getting some food in my belly.

  Man did it feel good to have that warm broth coating my insides, even though my body turned it cold before it hit my stomach. It still felt divine.

  Finally, mumbling through a mouthful of noodles, I said, “That awful girlfriend of yours slipped a black tourmaline crystal laced with that oleander stuff into my jacket pocket. It was why I was so out of it. Coupled with her glimmering powers, I was a goner.”

  Branton made some noodles for himself too and we sat there on the counters of the kitchen eating as I explained as much as I could to him, all the while keeping my charm protectively in my pocket.

  After the conversation quieted for a bit, and silence began growing between us, Branton spoke up and said, “Well, you need to be extra cautious of that plant. You’re clearly way more sensitive to it than I thought any being would be. It can kill you if concentrated enough. Gods forbid we ever find out what it would do if you ingested it.”

  I cringed at that, my bowl making a loud clank as I dropped it in the sink. I didn’t like having such a huge vulnerability. It made me itch.

  Branton came up behind me, his long arms wrapping around me as he set his bowl down in the sink next to mine. It felt good to feel him wrapped around me—warm and inviting—total opposites of me in every way.

  “I gotta figure out what these fuckers are after… what their end game is,” I said, my mind still unable to let the subject go.

  He nodded and hummed his agreement before placing his lips to my neck, pushing my hair out of the way to make a path for his kisses.

  “Also, I need to go back to that church and get the stone, but I can’t touch it.” I turned to face him, his arms still trapping me against the sink. “Will you go with me?” And then, I hesitated. “Wait, are you able to go into a church?”

  His laugh filled the room. “Myth, silly girl.”

  I didn’t think it was very funny. “Then, will you go with me?”

  “After you get some rest, yes.”

  I rolled my eyes and gave into him, nodding my agreement. Even though my strength was slowly increasing after Branton had gotten rid of the oleander, I still knew I was too tired to go back tonight. Plus, it was late and the church’s doors were most likely closed by now. “Before my shift tomorrow,” I demanded.

  I couldn’t help but think about the fact that I’d been almost fully functional without my glasses on, something I hadn’t been able to do since the shift when I was eighteen. Granted, it had only been a short while since I woke up without them, and Branton was clearly able to defend himself if I lost control. But it was still a liberating feeling. My glasses were like a crutch, something I always needed to function in normal society without my powers spiraling out of control and putting people at risk. Now, I felt even more powerful than before with the fact that I no longer needed them—no longer needed to lean on that crutch that defined me for so many years.

  My doubts dissipated when I looked at Branton, his face so close and so warm.

  “Um… Branton?” I said, curiosity filling my words.

  “Hmm?” he hummed against my ear.

  “What did you do with your pants?”

  He laughed again. “I can’t believe you’re just now asking.”

  I just stared at him with an impatient look, needing him to get on with it already. I was still nervous about looking directly at him without my glasses, the protective charm hanging around his neck still seemingly small in the grand scheme of things.

  “I had a plastic bag in my car. I stuffed them in there. I’d like to take a look and see what strain it is once I’m far away from you,” he explained, the laughter gone from his voice and replaced with a serious intensity. “Whoever is doing this to you is bound to foul up at some point and give away his or her identity.”

  I just nodded. No matter what reservations I had about Branton, it felt kind of good to have someone worry about me and attempt to protect me the way he did.

  “Come upstairs with me?” I asked, my hopes immediately dashed when he hesitated.

  The pause before his response was deafening. I hated putting my heart on my sleeve just for someone to go and brush it off like it was insignificant. Granted, I was just asking for some one-on-one time with the man, not for a marriage proposal, so I was obviously way out of line for being butthurt with his delayed reaction.

  “You need rest,” he said and held two of his fingers to my lips so that I wouldn’t blurt out an argument right away. “I’ll come up with you, but only if you promise to chill and sleep.”

  I nodded, knowing good and well I wouldn’t be able to be in the same bed with Branton and not get a little heated, pun intended.

  “You have a wickedly determined look on your face,” he said with a chuckle. “Seriously though, you need rest.”

  “Rest is for the weak,” I joked. He didn’t return my humor with a laugh.

  Party pooper.

  Without another word, I grabbed his hand and made my way up the stairs, Branton in tow. If nothing else, I at least needed a cuddle buddy. Nah, need was too strong a word. I didn’t need it, but I sure as hell wanted it. Wanted him. And this cuddle buddy just happened to already have his pants off.

&nbs
p; It was important for me to keep my wants and needs separated, for no other reason than my sanity. I wanted Branton. Hell, who wouldn’t? He was kind and not at all bad on the eyes. But I also had a basic, pure need for independence, and to admit I needed a man in my life went against my very nature.

  To some, my differentiation between want and need sounded snobbish and petty, but if I ever cared to explain to the naysayers what an honor it was for me to want one’s company… well, they’d shut up real quick. Again, I get pegged as a snob for considering myself worthy enough. And for that, I’d gladly show them the wrinkles on my middle finger.

  To want someone meant you cared enough to have them beside you by choice, supporting you, as you do them. To need someone meant that you felt an obligation to include them in your life. I would never insult Branton or any other man by saying I needed them—that my basic instincts were to force myself to have a man in my life. To say I need a man like I need my next breath is insulting to both the man and myself. To say I want the man like I need a breath of air is probably one of the highest compliments I could pay to someone else. Desire is to want something, or someone, not a basic urge we consider uncontrollable. I’ve had that powerful urge that was so damn hard to reign in… and desire is far removed from such uncontrollable urges.

  “Whatcha thinkin' about so hard?” Branton asked as I closed my bedroom door with a soft click. The light in my room was warm, even against the blackout curtains and dark sheets that blanketed my bed. I had no need for a heavy blanket, but then thought that he might, especially while lying next to an ice cube.

  “I was just thinking about whether you might need a blanket or not. I might have one in the hall closet.” I grabbed at the doorknob, ready to go get one for him no matter what his response was.

  “I’m not going to be staying long enough for that,” he said, not at all the response I was ready to hear.

  “Got a hot date?” I asked, deflecting so he didn’t see my discomfort in the situation.

  “Nah. Class bright and early—I have to get home and gather my things before my first class at eight in the morning. Like pants? Plus, it’s already nearing three.”