"I can't take this stress." Theresa stood up, wringing her hands. "I can't stand here and watch the Pretzel King die. I need to leave."
"Wait!" She tensed as she saw a blue spark jump off Derek's stomach. Hope exploded through her body, shattering the lump that had settled in her gut. "Did you see that?"
"See what?" Theresa paused in the doorway.
"Fireworks!" Another blue spark popped up, followed by a green one. And then a series of gold and silver. "It's working!" She eased his head off her lap and back to the floor, then backed up as fireworks began exploding off his body. Relief rushed through as a whistler erupted from his shoulder and spun off toward the ceiling, whipping around with a high-pitched squeak as white sparkles hit the floor. Whistlers were a really good sign.
Theresa pranced over to Derek, sighed with delight and leaned over him, letting the sparks hit her in the face. "I love this part. I wish I could produce fire in different colors like that." Her skin sizzled as the sparks landed on her scales. "It's so beautiful. It's like the Fourth of July."
Justine sat down by the door, out of the range of most of the sparks, her legs weak with relief. He was going to be okay. "I forgot what this was like. I haven't seen the fireworks since Carl drank from Mona." It was a pyrotechnic display that would make any mad scientist batty with envy. "It's incredible." Now that she knew Derek was going to be all right, she could enjoy the moment. All they had to do was break the Curse and prove she'd made the right decision by giving him two drinks. Then she could kill him, and everything would be fine.
Because she would kill him. Because that was her job and she never shirked her duties. Right? Of course, right. It would be no problem to follow through. No problem at all. Everything was perfect.
Which was all a complete lie. She pressed her fingers to her temples and tried to rub the sudden headache away.
She didn't want to kill him. She so didn't want to kill him. He could have come close to killing her in the lobby, but he'd fought it hard and literally handed her the chance to stop him. He'd trusted her completely. Who trusted a Guardian? No one did. But Derek had. His faith in her felt good. She wanted to be the person he gave her credit for being.
She wanted a chance with this guy who was so freaking complicated.
Theresa beamed at her. "I think we should do this more often. Pick random people off the street, let them drink from Mona so we can see the light show, then kill them. Don't worry, as the only non-Guardian in the room, I'll do the dirty work."
Justine chuckled. "I don't think that would be as fun as it sounds—"
"Saving people and then killing them? What's not fun about that?"
"Um, hello?" Derek waved his hand weakly.
They both looked down. Derek was lying between them, and he was covered in ash. "I don't mean to interrupt, but Theresa is spitting on me."
"Derek!" Justine's first reaction was to drop to the tile and hug him, but instead, she took a step back, because, you know, last time he'd been conscious he'd been extremely determined to kill her. "How's the murderous inclination?"
He cocked his head to study her, and something about the way he was looking at her made her belly flutter. "I seem to be back to my normal feelings about you."
"Really? What are those feelings?"
A half smile curved his mouth. "That you look super cute in those jeans, and I want a chance to get to know you better."
Her stomach did a little flip, and she couldn't keep from smiling. What man said that to a woman who had just shot him? Not many, she would bet. But he just wasn't bothered by who she was. How amazing was that? "So you're not going to try to kill me?" God, he looked tempting, stretched out on the floor, covered in soot and blood, with his belly spouting sparks.
"Not at the moment." He touched his stomach, where a red scar was still generating small sparkles. "Can't say the same for you, apparently. I said temporarily disable me, not put a bullet in my stomach."
Heat flushed her cheeks. "Um, well..."
Theresa cleared her throat. "Well, I'll just leave you two to work things out. I'll be in the other room if you need me." She dropped a dish towel on Derek. "Fire retardant fabric, so you can use it while you're still on fire. Sorry about the ash." She then spun around, narrowly missed Derek's head with the spike on the end of her tail, and hurried out of the kitchen.
Justine managed a guilty smile for Derek, who had propped himself up on an elbow, his partially burned, blood-soaked shirt falling open to reveal a heavily-muscled chest. What to say to a man after you almost killed him? She couldn't exactly apologize, since she'd been shooting to kill. "Um…sorry about ruining your shirt."
"My shirt?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "There was no need to go to such lengths just to get my shirt off. Just ask."
She grinned and felt the tension ease from her body. "You're not mad?"
"Well, I'm a little offended." He levered himself to a sitting position, leaning heavily against a cabinet. "I thought we had an understanding that neither of us were going to kill each other until we had to."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't promise that." She cocked her head. "But to be clear, you did try to kill me first. I shot you in self-defense, per your orders, in fact, so I'm thinking that I'm kind of in the clear on this one."
Derek raised his brows. "Hey, I did all I could to avoid killing you, a claim you can't make, I might add, given that you aimed right for my stomach."
She grimaced. "Yeah, well, your stomach is a little distracting with that six pack. It’s not my fault that I kept staring at it. I tend to shoot where I look, so yeah, I shot it."
He grinned. "Yeah? You like my stomach?"
"It's nicely toned, yes," she acknowledged, her cheeks heating up. "You did start the whole killing thing tonight, so again, I think we can both agree that you're the one that owes the apology." Now that she explained it like that, it actually made sense. Her life had been at risk, and she'd been trained to save herself.
Derek shifted his position, sucking in his breath with a gasp of pain that made guilt shoot through Justine. "It's Xavier who owes you the apology, not me. Where is he, anyway?" He let his head drop back against the wood and closed his eyes.
"I have no idea." She frowned, wanting desperately to crawl over to him and make sure he was okay. "I've been occupied with saving your life."
He frowned and fingered the new scar just above his cute little belly button. "How am I not dead?"
"Yeah, about that." She chewed her lower lip. "I sort of broke a rule, so I think I made up for shooting you."
He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. "Dare I ask?"
Justine avoided his gaze, busied herself with brushing ash off her jeans. "Well, it's kind of complicated..."
"She gave you two drinks from the Goblet of Eternal Youth," Theresa shouted from the other room. "You're not immortal yet, but you're close. Be sure and thank her with appropriate body massages. With hot oils. I have some in my bathroom if you want to borrow them."
Justine's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Theresa! I'll handle this!"
"No, you won't. You're sitting there being all girly." Theresa threw the kitchen door open and stuck her blue head into the room. "Here's the deal, Derek. You guys have to break the Curse now, or Justine's in deep shit. So quit sitting around, and get on it. Don't you die in like three days or something? And clean up the mess you made on the kitchen floor. You're such a bleeder." She let the door slam shut, muttering about inaction and useless mortals.
Justine cleared her throat. "So, well—"
Theresa stuck her head back in the room. "And one more thing, Pretzel King."
Derek looked over at her. "What?"
"She risked it all when she immortalized you, so kiss her, dammit!"
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kiss her? Derek looked over at Justine, who looked horrified by the dragon's speech.
Her cheeks turned red. "I didn't completely immortalize you," she said quickly, cutting him off befo
re he could address the "kiss her, dammit," order. "It was the only way to revive you. I couldn't let you die yet. For Mona's sake."
He cocked an eyebrow at her addendum. "Mona, huh?" She looked cute, sitting there with a guilty flush on her cheeks, her clothes still covered in his blood. He grinned at the thought she'd broken the rules for him. Yeah, maybe it was about saving Mona, but she'd still done it. She hadn't saved his ancestor, had she? Point for him.
"Of course. For Mona. Why else would I save you?"
"Because you think I'm delightful?"
The corner of her mouth twitched. "You're not that delightful."
"It must be my great kissing ability, then."
She grinned. "It was only about Mona. Everything I do is about Mona."
"Huh, well, that's too bad. I was hoping that you were developing some affection for me like I am for you." At her surprised expression, he grinned. "But thanks for saving me, either way." And he meant that last bit. Who had time to die when they were scheduled to die in three days? He sure didn't. "So, I'm somewhat immortal?"
"Somewhat, yeah." The way she was watching him made awareness pulse through him. Her gaze was intense and steady, as if she were drinking in every aspect of his existence. He liked it.
He flexed his arms. He didn't feel any different. He felt kinda weak, actually. Though, he did feel surprisingly well, if one considered the fact he'd almost died about three minutes ago. "So, what does two drinks do to me?"
"Well, it'll take you a few centuries to get old and die. And you'll heal from most things, but a serious death blow would still do you in." Justine chewed her lower lip, her brow wrinkled. "A third drink would make you immortal, for all practical purposes."
Damn. His life span was now a few centuries? Wow. Except for the soon-to-die thing— "Wait a sec. Will two drinks be enough to stop the Curse?"
"No, you're not that immortal. Even with three drinks, you can still be killed by beheading. Nothing can completely defeat death." Her gaze flicked to his chest, then back up to his face. "I don't think the gun will work on you anymore, though, unless I shoot you in the head repeatedly or something. Beheading would definitely work. Maybe multiple direct shots to the heart, too."
"Well, as long as you have a strategy to ensure my demise, I feel so much better." He stretched his arms over his head, as strength began to return to his body. "But I guess that means Mona won't break the Curse then. So much for that plan." Two-thirds immortal and still on track to die in three days. Ironic.
Justine stood, her face suddenly tense. "Was that your plan? To drink from Mona?" She set her hand on her hips. "Did you set up that whole scene in the lobby hoping I'd shoot you and then revive you?"
"I own a multi-billion-dollar pretzel company. Do you really think I'm stupid enough to actually think that would be a good plan?"
She tilted her head. "I don't know. Maybe you inherited the business, and Becca keeps it going. Maybe you're only a figurehead, and in reality your brain is capable only of changing engine oil and watching baseball games."
He snorted. "For your information, I invented the no-carb pretzel as a tribute to my dad, Victor LaValle, whose life goal had been a no-carb waffle. I took the company public, all before I hired Becca. Becca has merely managed things while I've been dealing with the Curse thing."
She blinked. "I didn't mean to offend you. I was kidding. I didn't realize you were so sensitive."
"I'm not sensitive. Just because my entire family thinks I'm insane and a liability doesn’t mean it bothers me when someone questions my basic intelligence." He pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the counter as his legs adjusted to his weight. "I don't care at all." There'd been a time, yes, but not anymore. He had more important things to worry about than what other people thought of him. Funny how the threat of a Curse will put things in perspective.
She cocked her head. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I thought you were brilliant, incredibly sexy and a man worthy of me?"
He grinned. "Yeah, actually, it does. Do you?"
"No. I just wanted to know if it would make you feel better if I did."
But she glanced at his bare chest, and a sense of satisfaction breezed through him. "Liar."
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. "I never lie. So, what's your grand plan you mentioned in the lobby? It better be worthy of two drinks of Mona, or I'll have to kill you immediately."
Right. They had more important things to deal with than whether the heat from the dance floor was still buzzing between them. "Basically, we need to find out who cursed my family, then make them undo it."
She folded her arms. "For this, I saved you?"
"You saved me because you couldn't bear to have me die."
Something flickered across her face. "Don't even say that, Derek. You know I can't afford to have you live."
"Why not? If I don't have to kill you, why would you have to kill me?"
She paced to the other side of the kitchen and leaned against the counter, her hands braced next to her hips. "You know too much about Mona. I agree that we need to break the Curse to keep other LaValle men from coming after me, but after that..." She grimaced. "I have to do my job."
Okay, so he didn't really like that answer. His end goal, after all, had been to continue living. And now apparently, he had several centuries-worth of living to lose out on, not just another fifty years. And he had a certain immortal Guardian in his life that he was really interested in getting to know better, for longer than three days. All the more reason to try to stay alive. "You're really going to kill me?" he asked. "Regardless?"
She sighed. "I can't figure out how to let you live," she said quietly.
The vulnerability in her voice made something inside him soften. For all her bravado, she didn't want to kill him any more than she wanted him to kill her. She might not admit it, but the connection between them wasn't only on his side. "Maybe we can find a way."
"I tried." She pressed her lips together. "And I can't sleep with you either. It would violate my Oath. The only sex I can have is it if is meaningless, empty sex designed to save Mona."
He pulled himself to his feet and leaned against the counter. The strength was slowly returning to his body. "I can live with that. Empty sex is all that works for me until I break the Curse. If that's what I have to do to get information from you, I'll make the sacrifice." Honestly, if he got naked with Justine, it wasn't going to be empty sex, but he didn't point that out.
Her eyes widened. "You want to have sex with me, even after I shot you?"
"Hell, yeah."
Her cheeks flamed red, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. She wasn't immune to him. Not one bit. And awareness of that hit him low in the gut. He levered himself off the counter and began to walk across the kitchen toward her.
She held up her hands as if to block him. "I'd still have to kill you."
He reached her and came to a halt, his body mere inches from her, but not touching. "You'll try, you mean."
She planted her palms on his chest to block him. Her hands were warm, her fingertips soft. "Why are you doing this to me? There have to be plenty of women in this world who'd sleep with you willingly."
He could feel his heart thudding against her touch. "You're the first one who hasn't thought I was insane. Also, the fact you plan to kill me takes away a lot of my guilt that I'll have to kill you if we don't solve the Curse. You balance me."
The corner of her mouth curved up. "You have such low standards."
"I'm a man. We don't have any standards." He reached up and entwined his finger through a strand of her hair. "I should also mention, however, that I find you smart, fierce, loyal, sexy, and compelling as hell. I need to kiss you, Justine. It's all I've been thinking about since last night."
Heat flared in her eyes. "I have to kill you, not sleep with you."
He lifted his other hand and cupped the back of her head. "What if I promise never to tell anyone what I know?" Er...anyone else, and
he'd make sure Becca, Quin, and Wendy didn't talk either. "I'm very trustworthy. Ask anyone I do business with. I'm the epitome of ethical. Let me interrogate you. It would benefit both of us to have this Curse eradicated, but if you can't drop your natural defenses and let me in, we might not succeed."
She leaned forward slightly, until her mouth was barely an inch from his. The scent of mint and freshness curved into him. "It doesn't matter who you tell," she said, her breath warm against his lips. "A Manasa could get all the information out of your mind before you knew what had happened. And then it would be on the black market and I'd be in so much trouble."
Manasa. Another word he didn't know. "Okay, I give. What's a Manasa?" He lightly kissed the corner of her mouth. God, she tasted good.
"A Manasa looks human, and they live in the mortal world like any human, but they can extract even the deepest secrets out of anyone's brain." She set her hands on his shoulders as he kissed the other side of her mouth. "They then usually sell the information. Nowadays, they use eBay. It's the fastest and easiest way to set up an auction. It's very lucrative, actually. Newspaper reporters love them, because they can get the scoop on stories." She sucked in her breath as he trailed kisses over her throat. "They usually buy the exclusive rights so the Manasa can't resell it. Manasas are pretty common, though they vary in their skill level. There are probably at least twenty or thirty in New York at any given time."
He bent his head and kissed her. Her lips were soft and tempting, igniting a fierce need in him. He wanted to lean into her, to deepen the kiss, to luxuriate in her body... "What if the Manasa isn't reputable? What keeps them from reselling?"
She sighed, leaning into him as he trailed kisses over her jawline. "Basically, once she extracts the info, it morphs into a printed document that pops up wherever she stores all her files. Usually a locked safe or something. If someone buys the exclusive rights to it, the Manasa gives them the original file. Once the Manasa turns over the original, she can't remember or access the information. If it's a non-exclusive sale, then the Manasa gives them a copy. As long as the Manasa has the original in her possession, she'll always know exactly what's in it."
Darkness Awakened Page 52
