by C. G. Blaine
I stay close behind him. Part of me still expects Hex to jump out, yell boo, and start us all over at the sweatshirt again. But we step onto the forward-slanting porch at the front without him appearing, and once we’re walking under the overhang, it feels like we’re in the clear.
“Patty’s Saloon,” Chaz reads the sign beside the green metal door before swinging it open and directing me inside with his chin. “Hostages first.”
I roll my eyes, passing him. He follows right behind me, and I’m about to smart off when an entire bar’s worth of people stop what they’re doing to look at us. The music is still thumping from a jukebox in the corner, and the door bangs shut behind Chaz, but everything else seems frozen. Bikers wearing a whole lot of leather—like you’d expect bikers to wear—bandanas, sunglasses tucked in the necks of their shirts, and then everybody else. Tables full of ripped jeans, Tshirts, caps faded from the sun, and a whole lot of skirts and crop tops.
A hand creeps onto my waist, Chaz’s protective hold reminding me to breathe, but after the initial shock of us walking in, the room reanimates. People turn back to their beers and conversations. A few stares linger as Chaz nudges me forward, his arm staying across my back.
“What can I get you?” The graying redhead behind the bar smacks her gum, her tone wary. “Water from the looks of it.”
“Phone?” Chaz asks.
“Pay phone.” She nods toward the back, somehow filling six shot glasses of whiskey while still keeping a careful eye on us. “Slip your hand in the slot where the phone book should be. You’ll find yourself some quarters.”
Chaz busts out a grin that I’ve been on the receiving end of a few times. Not lately, but before he hated me. He raps his knuckles on the bar top. “Thanks, Patty.”
She winks, and he ushers me around tables until we reach the far corner. The decorations are limited to road signs, except for a single deer head with a pair of bright pink panties hanging from an antler.
“Classy,” I say under my breath, but Chaz’s lips twitch.
He leans against the wall and snatches up the phone while I run my hand to the back of the shelf, dragging a few quarters out. But before I feed them into the slot, Chaz taps the receiver against his forehead.
“Shit,” he says. “Shit, shit.” He hangs it back up and rubs his face. “I don’t know anyone’s phone number.”
I close my eyes, realizing I don’t either.
A low chuckle rumbles from behind us, and seconds later, a guy slings his arm over Chaz’s shoulders. “Need an old man to show you how this thing works?” The top few buttons of his blue jumpsuit are popped open, his white undershirt wet from recently spilled beer. “You two look like you’ve been through it. What brings you here?”
Chaz blows out a breath. “I need a fucking drink.”
He heads back to the bar, leaving me with—if I’m to believe the name stitched above his pocket—Jerry, who takes over Chaz’s spot on the wall.
“Desert tour,” I say. “They left us behind.” Then before he can put too much thought into whether it’s a viable excuse, “Do you know if anyone has a cell phone we could use? We need to look up the number for the tour company.”
Jerry barks out a laugh that makes me jump. “No cell phone reception out here. No Wi-Fi either, before you ask. You’ll need to get on the highway and go for about forty minutes.”
Great. Chaz and I have both been around since before cell phones and landlines, yet here we are, screwed the second we lose access to modern conveniences.
“Thanks anyway.”
I make it a few steps before he says, “My kids are heading that way in the morning. They can take you and your boyfriend if you still need a ride.”
I force a smile over my shoulder, so he knows I heard his offer.
When I land on the barstool next to Chaz, he already has two empty shot glasses in front of him and is lifting a third. He glances over, throwing it back, and then slides me a fourth.
I take it, the whiskey biting on the way down. I make a face, my nose burning. “We probably shouldn’t be drinking until we’ve had some water and eaten.”
“You’re probably right.” He smiles as Patty refills the glasses and pushes two over. “But I don’t think either of us gives a fuck right now.”
I can’t argue. It looks like we’re stuck here—wherever here is—and I could use a few hours of not thinking.
He takes one shot after the other, then he watches me tip mine back.
The next time Patty walks by and sees our empty glasses, she leaves the bottle.
“She won’t hit anything,” Jerry says.
It’s the same thing he said on my last turn and the one before. And like those other times, my next dart lands on the board for triple points.
“I’ll be damned,” he says.
Like the other times.
I’ve been kicking his ass at darts while Chaz nurses a beer at a table nearby. Night only fell an hour ago, but we’ve already been drunk and back again because we have nothing better to do. The crowd of heartbeats is concealing ours, and leaving means we’d chance Hex tracking us down, so we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere in Arizona for the night.
Jerry offered to let us sleep in his cousin Rudy’s camper. A bunch of the people here live a few miles away in what sounds like a Mojave version of Slab City but with electricity and running water. Rudy’s out of state, visiting his girlfriend in Nevada. At a prison.
The group around Jerry is still roaring over my win when I glance over at the broody angel. He’s spinning the crystal stone that shows him Kai and Avery on the tabletop, but he’s focused on me. Our stare holds like the first time we were in a bar together. His eyes soften, back to the way they were then, magnetic and drawing me in.
It only lasts a few seconds. Then he blinks. Looks away. And the moment’s gone.
The pull remains though.
I sit down beside him, but his head stays down, tension refilling the space between us. As I fold my feet up on the chair, I watch his hand flexing underneath the table. Shadows appear in his palm and then disappear once it closes. I force my eyes up, pretending I didn’t notice.
We ride with Jerry and his wife to the little collection of RVs and trailers. They’re scattered around like a real neighborhood, most with lawn chairs or a picnic table outside. A few have Christmas lights strung around fabric awnings or fake grass on the ground outside the doors.
Rudy’s Palace—as the sign out front states—is stuck in the seventies. Brown shag carpet stretches from end to end, orange cushions cover the bench seating on either side of a bright yellow laminate table, and the tiny Formica counter beside the sink has a daisy pattern. But all that really matters is the real bed in the back and the bathroom with a shower stall and hot water.
Within twenty minutes, I’ve used a fourth of a bottle of generic vanilla-smelling body wash and just as much strawberry shampoo. I rip the tag off the underwear I found in the bedroom, still in the bag. Turns out, Rudy’s girlfriend and I are close in size. The only other things I’d wear of hers, though, are the pair of sweatpants and plain black tank I dug out of the closet.
I’m still combing my fingers through my wet hair when I come out. Chaz is leaning against the counter. He’s tall enough that if he pushed onto the balls of his feet, the top of his head would graze the ceiling, and even after he straightens, I brush against him as I pass.
He has gym shorts in his hand and a gray shirt. But what I fixate on is the blue tie with an unfortunate flower pattern.
Since I doubt he plans on wearing it, I roll my eyes. “We’re in the middle of nowhere with a demon chasing our heartbeats. I’m not going anywhere.”
“The tie isn’t for now,” he says, walking to the bathroom. “It’s for when we go to bed.”
Before I can respond, he drags the paneled accordion door closed. The shower turns on a second later.
Even though I’ve spent the last three days outside, I leave the inside door open and si
t on the steps. I relax back against the metal screen door and sigh. Tomorrow, we’ll be back in civilization. I can check on Nyla, move her somewhere Hex can’t find her. Somewhere Abaddon can’t find me.
“Trailers work best if you sleep inside of ’em.”
I raise my head. The guy is standing next to the Rudy’s Palace sign with a plastic bag in his hand. Long legs bring him the rest of the way. I take him in—the checkered shirt with a pocket, distressed jeans, gorgeous brown eyes with dark hair to match.
“Nyx, I take it?” He smiles when I nod and hands me the bag. “Jared.” Then he quickly adds, “Jerry’s son. My mom thought you two might need a few things.”
“Oh my God,” I say, checking inside. Unopened deodorants, toothbrushes, toothpaste, a comb. “Thank you. I mean, tell her thank you.”
“I’ll deliver the message. She keeps extras on hand for trips, but they never go anywhere.”
I laugh, and he smiles again.
“My dad said you and your boyfriend need a ride into town in the morning?”
“We do, but he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Brother?” he asks fast. “Close cousin? Best friend who would kill anyone who touches you?”
“None of the above.”
He blows out a breath and gives an exaggerated nod. “Good. The truck is very close quarters. I’d rather not have any issues when I’m pressed up against you. In the morning … you know, when I give you a ride.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you hitting on me, Jared, Jerry’s son?”
He puts his hands behind his back and shrugs. “Not very often my dad brings a beautiful woman home with him.”
“Your mo—”
“Fine,” he cuts me off before I finish. “He’s never brought home a gorgeous chick with a smile like yours, and if I haven’t been clear, yes, I am hitting on you.”
He’s cute and coming a step closer. “Let’s go somewhere.”
“Where? The truck you want to give me a ride in?”
That earns me a surprised quirk of the brow. “We would need to take it if I’m going to buy you a drink. Long way to the bar though. Might get lost or—”
Metal bangs above me, and I jump off the steps, my heart pounding when I whip around. Chaz glowers at us from the other side of the screen, his jaw hardened and focus over my head on Jared. Then it lowers to me.
The way he used to look at me made me all heart-fluttery and weak, but I can’t be weak when it comes to him. I need to be impenetrable. With the look he’s giving me now, I have to be, or he’ll eat me alive.
I stare him down through the steel mesh until he hooks his head for me to come inside and then walks away.
“Not your boyfriend?” Jared says.
I shoot him a smile before I climb the steps. “I’ll see you and your truck in the morning.”
He’s still standing there with a disappointed look on his face when I shut both the doors. I take a deep breath, touching my forehead to the inside one. When I can’t stand Chaz’s stare on my back anymore, I turn around.
His hair’s still wet, haphazardly pushed up, and the gym shorts and V-neck look a few sizes too big but still manage to hang off him in all the right ways. God, he’s gorgeous. It’s truly unfair how he can be such an ass and still make my pulse race without trying.
I grab a few things out of the bag before tossing it on the table on my way to the bathroom. When I come out a few minutes later, Chaz has a toothbrush stuck in his mouth. He’s propped against the counter, so I have to sidestep to get to the table. He smells spicy, like whatever brand of deodorant Jerry’s wife sent for him.
“Getting friendly with the locals?” He throws the toothbrush in the sink beside him and twists for a purple plastic cup behind him. A row of them are upside down, drying, but he must have filled one.
“Only the one,” I say, returning everything to the bag.
One side of his mouth turns up in a smirk. “Maybe we should vacation together more often. You get a fuck buddy. I get my soul tainted.”
I sigh as he sets the cup in the sink. He stretches out his fingers, bringing his hand back. I don’t even think he’s aware of it until he catches me looking.
“The darkness is cold,” he says, turning his palm up. “I thought it was because I’d lost my light, but I’m cold because of what’s currently inside of me, not what isn’t anymore.” His brow pulls in, real pain on his face. “I once said there was nothing worse than being mortal.”
“You could be dead. I’m sure, as an angel, you think it’s worse, but I’ve died enough times to know—”
His eyes flash to mine, stormy and intimidating, and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.
“You don’t know shit,” he grinds out. “I was brought into existence with divine light. Every second without it has been like drowning. I’ve spent my entire punishment gasping for air, filling my lungs with water. And I keep sucking it down, waiting for the slightest bit of oxygen to surge through me because those moments are worth every second of suffering. But now, those moments are gone, and the water’s cold and muddy.” He pushes off the counter, taking a step toward me. “Let’s not forget whose fault that is.”
“You know what?” I snap. “Go ahead and blame me. For pretending to date Kai and trying to save my sister. The Dimming Blade, the darkness—all of it. If you want to hate me for it, then hate me, Chazaqiel. I don’t care. But while you’re hating me, remember the only reason you’re even here to do it is because of me.”
My voice trembles at the end, and unwilling to give him my tears, I start to walk away until he spins me by the waist, trapping me between his arms and his hard body. I have to lean back to put space between us, and I tip my chin up to meet his harsh glare.
“Trust me,” he says, “I want to hate you.” One of his hands moves, and I can’t tell if he means to or not, but his cool fingers graze my back under my shirt, making me shiver.
“You want to, or you do?” I sound out of breath, and I realize how fast I’m breathing, my grip digging into his biceps.
He licks his lips, his eyes falling to my mouth at the same time, then they come back to mine different, darker. “Want,” he rasps. “I want to hate you. So. Fucking. Much.”
Two breaths—one mine, one his—and then his lips are on mine. I grab the back of his neck as he sets me on the sad excuse for a kitchen counter, knocking over the row of plastic cups. No part of him is asking permission, not his hands tugging my straps down my arms, not his tongue sinking into my mouth. And I know he won’t be trying to take any second of it away from me this time.
I shove his shirt up and we break apart, so he can yank it over his head. He groans as his lips crash into mine again, like it took too long. My head falls back when he moves down my neck, running his tongue across my skin. He pushes down my top, kissing his way to my breasts. The low-hanging cupboard presses into my back while he sucks one nipple into his mouth, his cold palm on the other. I whimper at the mix of sensations, and he jerks me to the edge of the counter into him. When my legs wrap around his waist, I feel how hard he is and lift my hips, wanting more. He grinds into me, his mouth still on me.
“Chaz…” My back arches into him, and he slips his arm behind me to hold me up.
“Say it.” He raises his head enough to see me. “Tell me you want me. That you’ve always wanted me.” He thrusts forward harder, working my sweatpants down with each one. “When you were with Kai, in my apartment, when my hands were on you at the hotel, five minutes ago while you flirted with the redneck.”
“Yes.” I circle my arms around his neck and bring myself up until we’re face-to-face. “I’ve wanted you the entire time.”
He growls, picking me up, and he carries me to the bedroom at the back of the camper. My feet touch the mattress, and he lifts my shirt. I raise my arms, taking over once he pushes it over my head. I toss it on the floor, and he’s already kissing down my chest and over my stomach. I close my eyes when he bites my hip and slips
my sweats further down. His thumbs drag my panties down, and then he pulls me to him and lowers us onto the mattress before he takes them both the rest of the way off.
While he rips open the drawer to the nightstand in search of Rudy and his prison girlfriend’s condom stash, I push down his baggy gym shorts. In one quick move, he finishes the job. I drag him to me by the back of his neck until he’s between my legs, rubbing his erection against me.
“Admit you wanted me too,” I say.
Chaz studies me, his movements slowing.
“All the times you acted like you didn’t, tell me you did.”
He tosses the condom package on the bed and dips his head to free himself of my hold. He licks and nips his way down my body. My fingers grasp his hair as he goes, and then he nudges his shoulder against my thigh, so I’ll spread them wider for him. I suck in a breath the second his mouth is on me.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you again since you bitched I’d only made you come once.” His words hum through me, and he slips a finger inside me. “Every time I caught you staring at me.” Another. “Or you touched me.” He adds a third.
My hips rock to find his tongue again, and when I moan, he clamps his free arm around my thigh, holding me to him. His fingers move faster in and out of me. They work at a different rhythm than his mouth and tongue, slowly torturing me. My entire body is on fire for him. Because of him. And then the cold hits me from the inside, his fingers curling to set me off. My thighs tighten around his head, and he groans into me while I come, not letting up until I cry out his name.
“Fuck.” Chaz pulls his fingers out of me and grabs my legs, yanking me down the bed to him. He braces himself on an elbow as he rolls on the condom. Then he pushes into me, and I fight to keep my eyes from rolling back, feeling him sink all the way in until he fills me.
He takes me in deep strokes, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Shit, baby. You feel so fucking good.”
His grip moves to my ass, pulling me to him, and I feel up the muscles of his back, his shoulders, and chest. Greedy now that I can touch him. When I reach his neck, he lifts his head, eyes heavy-lidded. And with one look, I’m drunk on them. His mouth crashes down on mine, and I moan, my body bending into his.
