“Well, look at Johnny Castle here,” I laughed.
“Does that make you my Baby?”
“You wish.” I pulled away, but kept hold of his jacket, drawing him back in. The percussive beat controlled my hips as I let the rhythm take over. Val took hold of my waist, moving harmoniously with me to the music. He released me into a dip and we both laughed as he pulled me back up.
“Feeling any better?”
I nodded.
Because I meant it.
Apparently, once the liquor hit my bloodstream, I was a happy drunk.
For the first time tonight, I couldn’t feel the weight of everything bearing down on my shoulders. Everything turned into a blur of bodies and beats as I got lost in the music, dancing with anyone and everyone. My buzz had every inch of my body smoldering in a delicious warmth that left me vibrating. Even with the sweet, lustful scent still engulfing me, I’d become so relaxed that my fangs had retracted on their own.
Another pair of hands took claim of my waist from behind. Continuing to sway to the rhythm, I threw my arms up, draping them over tall, taut shoulders. I sighed, feeling the heat only intensify as I dipped down. My back grinded against hardened muscles, all the way from his chest to his chiseled abs. My hands teased through silky strands of hair as I came back up, and curiosity got the better of me. I turned to face my new dancing partner.
“Enjoying yourself?” Despite his hands on my waist, I realized he wasn’t dancing. And he didn’t look particularly pleased either.
Oh. My. God…
If my buzz had allowed me to comprehend such shame and abhorrence, I probably would’ve been reddened to the point that I could have blended seamlessly in with the mood lighting.
“This is your doing, I take it?” Blaine remarked, looking over my shoulder.
I turned to see Val not three feet away, dancing with a redhead. He raised his palms up, the universal “don’t-look-at-me” gesture.
“I came here on my own,” I declared.
“Did you, now?” Blaine hardly seemed convinced. “You’re telling me you triggered your Distress rune and took off so fast that I couldn’t track you, just to get drunk off cheap liquor?”
“Yeah, what’s your point?” I cooed, still swaying to the music.
“Nuns have a higher alcohol tolerance than you.”
I just laughed. “So?”
“Seriously, did Val abduct you? Force you to take something? A drink? Some kind of drug?”
I snorted. “Will you relax, Tarzan? Jane. Fine,” I mocked, attempting my best impression of the feral orphan. It sounded more like a caveman, only making me laugh harder. “You really need to lighten up. You’re gonna get frown lines.”
His hold on me tightened, hauling me right up against him. A peculiar flutter ignited in my chest. I found myself inclining my head up to meet his gaze, at those wolfish eyes, those sensuous lips.
His eyes cut away from mine, taking interest in my hand. “Wow, you are really drunk.”
I looked to see the rune on top of my hand burning bright blue. Before I could meet his eyes again, I was suddenly slung over his shoulder. The new position made my stomach flip and my head spin. “Put me down, you Neanderthal!”
“Come on, man. She just wants to unwind. Let her live a little,” laughed Val, coming to our side as Blaine began plowing through the crowds with me in tow.
His brother turned to him, and a loud pop! sounded over the music. As Blaine continued to the door, I caught sight of Val, who was now sprawled out on the floor, his nose evidently broken as blood trailed from it.
“What the hell’s your problem?” I snapped, beating a fist against Blaine’s back. “He was just being nice.”
Blaine scoffed as he carried me out into the parking lot. “My brother doesn’t do ‘nice.’”
“A familial trait, then, no doubt,” I jeered. “And yet, he’s still better company than you. I’m beginning to think your boss set me up with the wrong brother.”
Of all things, he laughed.
“Why is that funny?”
“‘Not knowing anything is the sweetest life.’ Is it not?”
“Is that supposed to be your excuse for trying to keep me in the dark? Some stupid Pinterest quote?” I scoffed. “At least Val’s not playing dirty.”
Blaine finally set me down beside the Cutlass’s passenger door. I pulled at the handle to open it, but his hand pressed against the frame, securing the door shut. I rolled my eyes as I turned to face him, an insult already loaded on the tip of my tongue. It tumbled back down my throat, and I choked on the lump, finding Blaine standing mere inches before me. It took everything I had not to cower back at the predatory gaze as he lowered himself to meet my eyes.
“I may be dirty, love, but I am not ‘playing,’” he purred, his voice low and intimate as his lips lingered in front of mine. “If you wish to challenge me in a game, you will lose.”
My breath caught at the soft caress of his fingers suddenly on the nape of my neck as his mouth moved to my ear.
“But I can guarantee you won’t be mourning the loss for long.”
Goose bumps shot up my spine, my arms, and everywhere else as his teeth gifted my earlobe with a teasing nibble, simultaneously stroking gentle fingers down my neck. I gasped at the sensation, at the satisfaction it gave to the dark energy rooted deep within me. It practically purred at the contact, leaving me equally euphoric and horrified.
“Take me home.” The words barely escaped my lips as he pulled away.
***
Embers crackled in the fireplace as flames pressed their gentle heat against my cheeks. I stirred in the downy mass of cotton and fleece, finding myself nuzzled up in blankets on a couch. Blaine’s couch. I was in his family room. My last words reverberated in my head, and panic hit me like a punch to the stomach.
What happened? Had he misunderstood what I meant? My thoughts were a muddled mess, and it didn’t help any that the room spun as I shot upright. I peeled the blankets away, relieved to at least see I was still fully clothed.
“How bad is it?” Though his voice was soft, it still had me recoiling to the far end of the couch as Blaine entered the room.
The sudden action sent a stabbing pain into my temples. The room tilted, and I collapsed back into the cushions despite myself.
“Here.” Blaine came up to the side of the sofa, offering me a glass of water, along with a couple of aspirin.
“What happened?” I asked, even though I was terrified of the potential truth.
“You drank your weight in cheap tequila, cursed me out in a drunken tirade in the car, passed out, and now, by the looks of it, you have a pretty awful hangover.”
I had no recollection of the third part, but it didn’t surprise me. And relief eased back into my thrumming pulse. I hadn’t done anything I would’ve regretted. But…
Hangover? “How long have I been here?”
“About an hour.”
I may have been new to the whole drinking scene, but weren’t you supposed to get those the morning after? Between the car ride and time spent here, only a couple hours had passed. Three at the very most.
Blaine offered a small smile. “Since our bodies regenerate so quickly, substances like liquor don’t really stay in our systems for very long. You’ll still feel like shit, but the hangover won’t last for more than an hour or so.”
“Sorry about earlier,” I mumbled, gesturing at his throat.
Surprise filled those pale eyes.
“Don’t get me wrong. You still deserved it, but…I shouldn’t have done it.” I was better than that, or at least, I thought I was. Seeing that side, what I was capable of, it scared me.
“Devotion for the people you love is never something to apologize for. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.” His eyes roamed over my hand, to the rune wrapped around my ring finger. “Perhaps, one day, you might extend that fervor to me.”
I inwardly cringed. I could only imagine what kind of �
��fervor’ I’d have for him after his hex went into effect.
“You’re crazy,” I muttered.
“So I’ve been told.” He took the empty glass from my hands and pulled the blankets back over me. “Just try to get some rest.”
My eyelids were already drawing closed as he turned to leave.
“Why did you do it?” I murmured.
“Do what?” his voice asked softly in the darkness.
“Kill me, the night of the bonfire?” When he didn’t say anything, I forced my eyes back open, believing he had perhaps left the room. But there he stood, staring at me, still. “I…I liked you. And you knew that. Why didn’t you let me get to know you first, to really care about you?”
Something flickered in those icy eyes. Sadness.
He opened his mouth, as if to respond, but decided against it. “Get some sleep,” was all he said, before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.
Chapter 13
Slow Dancing In a Burning Room
Blaine had been right. When I awoke, it was still dark outside, but the clock told me it was a quarter after five. Almost sunrise. The world was no longer spinning, and my head felt okay for the most part. Only a dull ache rested behind my eyes. The fire inside the hearth had died hours ago, leaving the crisp winter air to bite at my skin as I tugged off the blankets. My ears strained to hear something in the silence, but alas the house remained quiet with the exception of the soft ticking from the grandfather clock.
Without the glow of the fireplace, I found the room still bathed in a warm orange light. I craned my head behind me, expecting to see some kind of nightlight. Instead, I beheld the strange pinkish-orange rock placed on the corner table I’d noticed during my investigation of the house. It appeared translucent, like fogged crystal, as a glowing light rested in the center of its base. Up close it looked less like a crystal and more like a giant piece of orange rock candy.
A Himalayan salt lamp. I’d never seen one in person, but I remembered my aunt talking about wanting to get one. They supposedly helped balance positive and negative ions, which in turn improved energy levels. I wasn’t sure if any of that was true, but I had to admit, it certainly looked interesting, almost magical.
Something stirred in the opposite side of the room. I snapped upright, straining to see in the limited light. A dark silhouette filled the corner chair with a crown of blonde hair catching my eye. Blaine. I hadn’t noticed him when I awoke, his figure unmoving in the dark leather chair as his feet rested up on the matching cushioned ottoman.
His head was propped up on his bent arm, his cheek resting on a closed fist. I inched closer, waiting for him to move or say something, but he remained still. It wasn’t until I was a few feet away that I realized he was asleep. It seemed odd, really. I mean, even Mages required sleep, but I would never imagine seeing him like this.
So peaceful.
So vulnerable.
Without those startling pale eyes boring into me, the smooth planes of his face made him appear almost…lovely. Sleep stripped us all of our masks, and in this light, he was beautiful. Delicate. Beautifully broken. I’d seen glimpses of his kindness, of his affection, felt it the very first time he’d kissed me. But everything else I witnessed, everything he put me through, it painted a much uglier portrait.
Why did you do it?
That question had haunted me these past months. Whether I had been singled out because of my bloodline or even just by happenstance, I still couldn’t figure out why Blaine had gone about all of this the way he had. If he wanted me to become his ‘mate,’ then why had he killed me the night of the bonfire?
Blaine wasn’t impulsive. Everything he did was calculated, mapped out ten steps in advance. When he had tracked me down, he could just as easily have shown up on my aunt’s front porch one morning, taken me hostage, and simply bided his time till the hex kicked in. Instead, he bought the house next door. Why? Because he knew I couldn’t run away from him, not again. It allowed him to meddle in my life, allowed him to keep a watchful eye on me, all without having to put in the added effort. So why hadn’t he tried to seduce me before choosing to kill and resurrect me?
I liked him the moment we first met, and Blaine knew that. But we hadn’t even gone out on an actual date yet. All he had to do was wait for things to progress on their own. With him being nothing more than a relative stranger, Blaine would have known I’d be afraid of him, of the Crown Prince of Hell. So why? Why expose me to this world, to this madness, without any assurance that I would succumb to him? Using some hex to brainwash me seemed like it should have been a last resort, not Plan A.
Was that all he wanted from me? To be a witless, indoctrinated servant?
He stirred for a moment, and I leapt back, nearly knocking over a floor lamp in the process as I bumped into it. Catching it before it toppled over, I stole a look back at him, seeing him still fast asleep. And in his hands rested the same old leather-bound book he had been reading in the library.
The new perspective gave me a clear view of Blaine’s right forearm. My eyes widened. The buttons lining the cuffs of his sleeves were undone, exposing the inside of his arm. Curiosity got the better of me as I knelt down to get a better look. A long ghastly line maimed his otherwise perfect skin, so extensive that it continued on well beneath the remaining fabric of his sleeve. Why had I not noticed this before?
***
I was a hot mess. With all the smeared mascara and smudged eye shadow around my eyes, I looked as if I took make-up tips from the Joker. I didn’t have my purse, so I couldn’t even attempt to clean it up, leaving me with no choice but to just wash my face when I ducked into the bathroom. All I needed was to look presentable. I wasn’t sure if Jenna was awake yet, and I didn’t want to risk waltzing in the house at dawn, looking like the poster girl for the Walk of Shame. I still didn’t know how to explain my absence last night or what had happened with Blaine in my bedroom yesterday morning. If things didn’t return to normal, and soon, I suspected my aunt’s goodwill would run out as well.
I needed to get the hell out of here.
Bolting from the bathroom, I went to close the door behind me. It wasn’t until I grabbed the handle that I noticed the vibration dancing up my arm, and by then, it was too late. I’d ripped the doorknob right out of the wood.
Seriously?
I’d managed to go a whole month without one of these mishaps.
My emotions were all over the place, and my runes couldn’t seem to decide what to do with them. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to punch something in… Every last sentiment had my arm illuminated like a kaleidoscope lightshow.
I prepared to slam the stupid handle on the counter as I cut through the kitchen to the side entrance, but decided against it. Without my emotions in check, I’d probably end up smashing my fist through the marble countertop. I turned the corner to find Blaine leaning against the table, eyeing the colonial handle still wielded in my grasp.
“Sorry,” I murmured, attempting to set down the device as gently as I could.
He smiled, pressing back a laugh. “It takes some getting used to. Our power, I mean.”
Power?
I scoffed. “It’s a curse.”
Of all things, he glared at me. “It’s a gift. You’d see that if you’d open yourself up to its potential.”
I wanted to laugh. It was the only thing I could think to do to fend off the tears building behind my eyes. I threw the handle to the floor, letting my unruly magic obliterate the porcelain into tiny pieces across the hardwood. “You call that potential?” I snapped. “How about me nearly tearing Reese’s neck out? Is that your idea of a fucking ‘gift’?”
“Is that what happened yesterday?” His face, his tone, everything was so extraordinarily detached.
I wasn’t sure why I had expected more. It wasn’t like I was anticipating an apology, but maybe, just maybe…a little remorse? A glimmer of regret, perhaps? But there was nothing. Nothing except a hint of
mild curiosity.
“Why are you here?” I growled.
His shoulders stiffened. “You know why—”
“No, I don’t. You don’t give a shit about me. I’m nothing more than a plaything to you, so cut the bullshit and just tell me what you want! Tell me what you want, so I can get you out of my life.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate—for you,” he mused. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
“What did I do to deserve this? Huh?” I slammed my hands into his chest, knocking him back with enough momentum that it thrust the entire kitchen table behind him across the hardwood as well. “Why are you torturing me?”
I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down my cheeks as I sobbed. “I cared about you. I cried over you when I thought you were dead. I cried at your goddamn funeral!”
He flinched.
“And you were there all along, alive and well,” I bawled. “You let me believe for weeks that I was responsible! You let me torture myself, thinking that I had inadvertently killed you!”
“I never meant to hurt you—”
“Bullshit!” Those icy eyes sharpened, and the quiet rage behind them should have made me recoil, but fury had taken me over. “I never did anything to ever hurt you, or anybody else, and you do this to me?” My fingers furiously dug into the ink on my arm until I nearly drew blood.
“Stop!” He snatched me by the wrist, prying my hand away. A metallic scent engulfed me as his voice fell ragged. “Don’t do that.”
Pain. That was…pain in his eyes.
His voice was nearly a whisper as he said, “You have no idea what I’ve done to protect you.”
That strange essence living beneath my skin—that essence buried deep into my bones, into my core—it tugged inside my chest. A silent plea. A plea to make me stop, to not say what was resting on the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t care,” I bit back, merciless, as I ripped my hand free from him. “Your own mother didn’t even cry at your funeral. It doesn’t matter how many of my dreams you invade, or how many hexes you put on me. I don’t ever want you to touch me. You will never find me in your bed. And I will never be yours. All you are is a pretty face with a black heart. No one could ever love you.”
Covetous: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 2) Page 14
