Evidently not, since I reemerged from the bathroom a moment later, still alive. The vintage rock t-shirt Reese had lent me barely covered my butt, making my face redden all the more as I went to the vanity mirror to blow dry my hair. Blaine lingered behind me a couple feet, his gaze drifting down my completely exposed legs. That devil-may-care grin tugged at his lips the moment his eyes caught mine in the reflection.
He leaned in again to tap my shoulder, forcing my runes to settle down once more. I tilted the blow-dryer away from my head, purposely batting him in the face with a gust of hot air, properly tossing his already untamed hair. He only chuckled, and the playful tenor warmed my insides. What the hell was wrong with me? I felt…flushed.
The underside of my hair was still a bit damp, but I turned off the dryer anyway, unwilling to give Blaine anymore of a show by having to flip my head upside-down, essentially exposing more of my backside as I would have to lean forward. I caught Reese’s reflection in the mirror. He remained seated in the far corner, the particular location allowing him a full view of the room—including us. Admittedly, he looked pissed off, and I couldn’t blame him. Not when Blaine was allowed to watch me and touch me and hold me as he pleased. But was Reese mad…at me? I mean, I’d brought all this to him. How could he not be? Despite how sweet and amazing and supportive he was, he still couldn’t help me. And all I was doing now was hurting him.
“Ready to go?” Blaine asked behind me as I pushed past him into the bedroom area.
Both Reese and I looked at him as if he’d spontaneously grown a second head, but Reese was a little faster on the uptake. “Ready to go where?”
“Val rented another room for the two of us just down the hall,” the Prince clarified.
“Not a chance,” Reese said vehemently. “You’re not taking her anywhere, least of all to a private room.”
Blaine pinned a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Awww, and to think I was doing it to save you the discomfort. Let’s face it, Houdini. As long as Kat’s runes are revved up like a deuce, I’m not leaving her side. If she unleashes that energy in the state she’s in, it’ll be a beacon to every supernatural entity in the area, especially Reapers. And that leaves you with only three options if we stay in this room, none of which you’re going to like.”
“Anything’s better than leaving her alone with you.”
“Okay.” Blaine happily took a seat on the mattress, forcing me down with him. “First option, we all sleep in bed together, which I can safely assume none of us wants.”
As expected, nobody argued.
“Second, you keep to your chair in the corner while we take the bed,” he further offered, pulling me closer. “Or we can switch positions, where you’ll spend the entire night in bed watching Kat curled up in my lap.”
Definitely not that last one!
Or the second…or the first.
Crap.
They were all awful.
“Don’t tell me the prospect of the last two doesn’t excite you, love,” Blaine’s voice purred in my head.
I scoffed at the thought, trying to ignore the warm rush of heat perpetrating its way back in me as I recalled one too many of the dreams I’d had of him. Reese just worked his jaw, clearly coming up empty on a fourth option.
Blaine leaned back on the comforter, his fingertips drawing soft, idle lines up and down my arm until goose bumps kindled across my skin. I slapped his hand away, grinding my teeth as the runes started vibrating back to life again. Blaine crooked a mischievous brow at me in challenge, knowing I had no other choice. I gave him a good shove, but surrendered my arm back to him.
“Amor me vel odi me; ambo sunt in mea favor,” he whispered in my mind.
I out-and-out glowered at him. “If you insist on doing that, at least do it in English.”
“You’re adorable when you’re angry.” Blaine winked, and I seriously doubted that’s what he had previously said…or thought. Whatever.
Reese just stared at the pair of us, confused and blatantly pissed off.
“I don’t see what the big deal is that we share our own room,” Blaine lazily sighed, stretching out across the mattress. “It’s not like this is the first time we’ve slept together.”
There had already been rumors back in Mystic Harbor that Blaine and I had been hooking up before his supposed “death.” And seeing as how I hadn’t told Reese about the morning I woke up in my room only to find Blaine in bed with me, I could clearly see he was questioning the fallacious gossip as well.
“We’ll go to the other room,” I muttered.
That look of anger Reese was sporting quickly shifted to downright shock. “You can’t be serious!”
“We don’t know who might be out there trying to track us. If Reynolds catches up, I’m not going to risk you getting pulled into the middle of this. I’ve hurt you enough as it is.” I ran an exhausted hand down my face before casting Blaine another scowl. “And all this douche canoe’s gonna do tonight is try pushing your buttons.”
“Douche canoe?” I could actually hear him chuckle inside my head.
Before Reese could object, I grabbed Blaine and attempted to haul him up off the mattress. All I really did was just strain my arms. He didn’t budge, at least not until he shot Blackburn a victorious, shit-eating grin, batting eyelashes and all.
***
“You’re a jackass!” I plowed past Blaine into our new room, practically dragging him behind me until I reached the bedside. I furiously yanked away the sheets and prepared to crawl underneath, all too aware of his close proximity. I could even feel the heat from his body radiating onto mine as he stood behind me. Every muscle in my body locked, hearing a zipper draw down. I whirled around.
Blaine had already discarded his shirt, and he apparently was preparing to do the same with his pants.
“What the hell are you doing?”
That roguish grin of his only grew. “Joining you.”
“Not like that you aren’t.”
“Well, some studies suggest that it’s bad for a man’s health to sleep in jeans.” His smile was all fox as he nodded down at the faded black denim. “Some even say it could even cause infertility. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
“A hundred-percent of studies would prove that you’d be doing society a favor keeping them on,” I shot back, snatching up a pillow and moving to the far side of the mattress.
Blaine tossed his jeans aside, thankfully leaving on his black boxer briefs, and climbed in beside me.
I immediately took a pillow and wedged it between us.
“What is this for?”
“What does it look like? It’s a safety barrier, to prevent any unnecessary physical contact.” I adjusted the remaining pillow behind my head and offered him nothing more than my hand.
“Ah, yes, how truly innovative. It’s an impenetrable fortress, except… uh-oh.” Blaine stuck his entire arm out above the pillow and waved his hand in front of my face. “Just as I feared. A security breach is possible, if not highly probable.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Excuse me, Miss High-And-Mighty, but I wasn’t talking about me,” Blaine laughed. “No, my fears rest solely with you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Is that right?”
“Well, I don’t mean to be arrogant here, but come on. Have you seen this?” He motioned to himself grinningly. “Let’s not kid ourselves, love.”
“What? You think I’m gonna manhandle you in your sleep?”
“I don’t see how you could resist.”
“In your dreams.” Flipping him off, I jammed my head into the pillow and forced my eyes shut, trying to ignore the idle strokes Blaine traced along my offered hand.
“And in yours, love.”
Exhaustion overpowered my anger, and sleep took me in a matter of minutes.
Chapter 20
Demons
Gun shots reverberated in my ears as I startled awake from the same horrific dream I’d been playing on repeat. I looked around, and at first, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t in my bedroom. Where were my posters? My Christmas lights? My Chinese lantern? It took a moment to remember what had happened, where I was.
The motel.
I looked over my shoulder, finding Blaine still lying beside me. A low groan emanated from the bottom of his throat, but he didn’t open his eyes. His body twitched for a moment, and I noticed his breathing quickened. Another groan followed, and he suddenly jerked. It had been powerful enough that it should have woken him up, but he only murmured something I couldn’t quite understand.
“Blaine?” I whispered.
Nothing. He was out cold.
But then he made a strange choking sound, as if gasping for air.
“Blaine!” I shook him, hoping to rouse him awake when my breath suddenly caught as well.
***
The motel room vanished as darkness overtook my vision. It took a moment, but warm glowing lights eventually came into view. The shadows peeled away as muffled music filled the air.
“What’d you say?” a gleeful voice yowled behind me.
I whirled around, suddenly finding myself standing in the middle of a crowd. Everyone’s breath vaporized as they jumped about, rubbing their arms and hands furiously through chattering teeth as they all laughed and talked over the booming bass of the song.
A short sandy blonde haired boy stood staring at me expectantly. Something about him looked familiar, but I couldn’t place his face.
“What?” The voice behind me caught me off guard. It was rich and lilted with a distinctive silvery quality.
Blaine?
I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, there he stood.
“I said I’m gonna grab a beer. You want one?” the boy reiterated.
Blaine shook his head. “I’m good, man. Thanks.”
What the hell? Where were we?
Blaine shoved his hands into the lined pockets of his jacket, shivering as another guttural wind coursed through the nightly air. I had to do a double take. Holy hell! I realized the real question was When were we? Blaine’s hair…it was black, and it was also shorter than I’d ever seen it. A lot shorter. And his clothes… Since his reveal on the night of my Great Rite, Blaine looked like he’d been raiding Colin Farrell’s wardrobe. Dark, rugged, and casual. But this? With a tailored peacoat, matching slacks, and Armani dress shoes, he looked every bit worthy of his old nickname “Gatsby.”
“Blaine?” I bellowed at him, but he simply turned and headed over to a rickety set of wooden stairs. “Blaine? Blaine!”
I raced after him down to a path overlooking a reservoir where smoke stacks and numerous industrial buildings rested on the other side. None of this looked familiar, until a flash of light caught my eye. In the distance, I could faintly see what I realized was a lighthouse. Harper’s Cove. We were in Mystic Harbor!
“Blaine!” I caught up to him, snatching his arm to turn him around. Only…my hand slid right through his bicep.
What the hell?
I reached out, trying to grab his shoulder. And yet again, my hand fell right through him.
Was I a…ghost?
Had I died?!
Blaine plucked his familiar Kevlar encased phone out of his pocket as it vibrated. I tried catching a glimpse of the text message that came up on the screen, but he put the cell away just as quickly.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Hey, sexy!” laughed a drunken girl to him from up above on the raised dock. “You gonna dance with me, or what?”
He attempted a polite smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Rain check. I have to take care of something.”
She whimpered as Blaine began jogging away. I raced after him down the path running alongside the waterfront. We went all the way around the reservoir, going into the heart of the industrial complexes. Blaine navigated through the maze of factories before coming out onto the massive loading dock. By now, I’d given up on trying to get his attention. He couldn’t see or feel or hear me.
Then I remembered this wasn’t the first time this had happened to me. Once, I had fallen asleep in class, and I’d witnessed a murder that hadn’t taken place yet. The other was the night I’d been bitten. I was locked in the back of Russell’s truck and had passed out from my fever. When I thought I had awoken, I had somehow teleported myself back to the Reaper compound, in the prison cell with Blaine as Mr. Reynolds proceeded to torture him. Astral projection. Only this time, I was seeing the past.
“Pop?” he called out, peeking his head inside the vacant storage bays. “Oi, Dad? You in here?”
A distant clang echoed throughout the expansive, vacant space. Blaine followed the sound, coming to a large sliding metal door. He gripped the handle, struggling to heave it open. An empty beer bottle rested at his feet as he stepped inside the warehouse. Blaine took one look at the label and rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”
Carefully maneuvering between loose pieces of rebar and pipes that lay strewn about the floor, he made it halfway into the room when a lone light flickered on overhead. We both gasped, seeing the figure in the back corner—only I didn’t share in Blaine’s relief as he got a better look at the stranger. Matted brown hair clung to the man’s face as he staggered up from an old folding chair, ambling forward with uneasy steps. He would have been intimidating, given his broad build and lengthy stature, but he was a down-and-out mess.
“Pop, what are you doing out here…besides the obvious?” asked Blaine, motioning to the newly opened beer bottle dangling between the man’s fingers.
“What I should’ve done a long time ago.” The man stopped, letting the bottle clang to the floor. Blaine took one step toward him, but froze at the sound of an unmistakable click. He lifted his hands as slowly as he could, now staring down the barrel of a Smith & Wesson Governor revolver.
“D-Dad, put the gun down. Okay? You’re drunk—”
Dad?
The man standing before us wasn’t Blaine’s adopted father, leaving only one other option.
It was his birth father.
The man’s entire demeanor fell away as he straightened, his shaky hold on the revolver immediately steadying. “I should have done this years ago.”
Blaine swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat.
His father laughed, but it was a grievous sound.
“Pop-”
“I saw you…in the parking lot. I saw what you did to all those windows.”
Blaine’s already pale face somehow managed to go even whiter. “I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did!” the man barked, clutching the side of his head with his available hand. “You know what’s happening to you. Don’t deny it.”
Blaine cowered back a step, only to have his father center his aim right between his eyes.
“This has to be done, for the good of everyone. You’re only going to grow stronger, and you’ll spread your plague to others.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Blaine gasped. “You’d kill your own son?”
“I’m not your father,” he spat. “Your mother lied to me! All I ever tried to do was protect her, and how does she repay me? By fucking that filthy Underworlder!”
By the look on his face, I knew Blaine had no idea what the hell he was talking about. The young man just kept shaking his head. “You hear yourself right now? You’re drunk! Just put the gun down…please.”
“I’ve put this off for too long. It’s time I set things right.”
A deafening blast exploded into the air as smoke billowed from the revolver. My hands flew to my mouth, seeing Blaine stagger back. He stood shell-shocked in place for so long, he looked like a statue. I ran over to him, surveying him for a gunshot wound. Did the bullet somehow manage to miss him? Turning around, I followed Blaine’s petrified stare. Not ten feet from us was a single bullet, hovering in midair. The air aroun
d it rippled as it continued to stir, but it wouldn’t move forward.
Blaine’s father—or whoever he was—cursed as he raised the gun again, relinquishing every round from the chamber. This time, I watched as each bullet froze in place alongside its companions. “Devil!”
Blaine’s eyes were the size of saucers, and they only grew wider as he looked down. He lifted his left hand, staring horrified at the alien light that emitted from his palm. That’s when I noticed, he didn’t have any runes… Just as Blaine turned his palm outward, the bullets suddenly veered in the exact direction it faced, piercing into a crumbling plaster wall across the way.
I cried out his name, hoping to get his attention, but it was too late.
Dismay had overtaken Blaine, leaving him blind to his father. The man charged at him so swiftly, he nearly blurred. A sharp crack resonated as the corroded tire iron in his hand struck Blaine in the side of the skull. I screamed, but the sound fell upon deaf ears as I watched Blaine’s body limply fall onto the concrete floor. His eyes fluttered wearily. He was still conscious!
Blood began to pool from the side of Blaine’s head as he tried lifting his hand. It fell though once his father brought the iron down again for another swing. The jagged hook caught the side of Blaine’s face, tearing right through his cheek. A strangled cry escaped the beaten boy as his entire backset of teeth was ripped clean from his jaw, splattering across the floor. His cry only split the skin further, exposing gory muscle and broken bone, the sight so heinous it even made his assailant retch. Blaine’s frame convulsed as he gagged, trying to draw in a breath that wouldn’t come. He barely managed to roll to his side before coughing.
He’d been choking on his own blood. A mass of crimson painted the concrete as Blaine blearily spit out the contents lodged in his throat. He could barely keep his eyes open. The man knelt down and pried Blaine’s cell out of his jacket. The screen cracked as he slammed it down on the pavement, the final blow coming as his iron-toed boot hammered down on it for good measure.
Blaine’s weak fingers grappled for the pipe beside him, but it was just out of arm’s reach. Desperately clawing outward, his fingertips barely managed to grasp the end. He tried heaving it up at the man, but the metal cylinder clattered to the ground, proving to be too heavy. The man murmured an apology, the words barely audible as he raised the tire iron for the last time. He turned the device the other way around, having the pointed end faced down at Blaine. His hands shook ever so slightly. He couldn’t go through with it… How could he? How could anybody do that—do this—to someone?
Covetous: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 2) Page 21
