Kiss at Your Own Risk (15 page)

***

Weird. Blaine had never realized that asphalt streets could actually move back and forth—

Trinity punched him in the left side. “Stop!”

Blaine halted the bike so fast that Trinity slammed into his back. “What’s wrong?”

She peeled her face out of his jacket. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact you’re headed straight for the edge of the bridge?”

Blaine squinted and realized that the undulating asphalt was actually the Charles River. “Damn. That’s confusing.” It wove out of focus again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fantastic.” He sat back on the bike for a sec. He could feel all the black magic he’d taken off Augustus riding his cells, clinging to his soul. He looked down at his hand and saw a charcoal-colored gelatinous substance bleeding from his palm. Huh. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

On the plus side, with this much garbage in his body, Augustus would be worshipping the carpet for a least a few hours. Bought ’em time. On the negative, he kinda felt the same as when the witch had tied him down and let a couple of hundred cranky water moccasins have their way with him.

Hadn’t been his best day, and it had taken a week to recover.

Didn’t have a week right now.

“All right. Let’s go.” He went for the handlebars and missed. Took the thing on the jaw instead. Damn things were moving all over the place.

Trinity leaned over his shoulder, and he tensed. The witch always hit him when he was down.

“What can I do to help you?” Her breath was warm on his neck.

He scowled, trying to concentrate. Had she really just offered to help? That made no sense. She was clearly trying to determine how weak he was so she could figure out where to launch her attack. “I told you. I’m fine.”

“Blaine.” Trinity slid off the bike and walked around to face him. She planted her hands on the rubber grips (how the hell had she grabbed those mobile suckers?) and eyed him. “You’re not okay, and I need you okay. What do you need?”

“I’m a man. I need nothing.”

He kinda thought she snorted, or maybe that was the sound of his brain exploding.

“For heaven’s sake, Blaine! Don’t be an idiot. What is up with the ‘I am an island’ thing?”

“Women love that shit.” His eyes were playing tricks now, he was pretty sure of it. Trinity’s face was getting smaller and her breasts were getting larger. Or maybe that was actually happening. That would be nice of her to do. Grow some knockers just for him. “Nice rack.”

“What?”

“I said…” Shit. Couldn’t remember what he’d said.

Something hard hit him in the side of his head, and he whirled around. Who’d come at him? He tried to flare up a fireball and—

“Blaine! It’s me! You fell off the bike and hit your head on the pavement.”

“I never fall.” But he could see some gray shit stretching out endlessly next to his head. Was that really road? Damn. Okay, maybe it was time to admit that the black magic harvesting hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped. “Where the hell is Nigel? He should be here by now.”

“Nigel?” Trinity was kneeling beside him now. “Who’s Nigel?”

“He’s like my personal EMT. Handy guy.” He studied her face, fascinated by how it was morphing forms. “What’s up with the blurry? You can do that at will?” He reached up for her face and felt her cheek. “Weird. Feels normal.”

“Blaine!” She sounded a little desperate now. “Tell me how to help you. Who is Nigel? Can he heal you? How do I reach him?”

“Forget Nigel.” He moved his hand down the side of her neck and ran his thumb over her collarbone. “Anyone ever tell you that your skin is softer than the petals on an orchid?”

“Blaine—” She hesitated. “No. No one’s ever said that.”

“Well, then you’ve been hanging with a bunch of no-brained dimwits.” He traced the tendons in her neck. “No prickly tingly yucky stuff. Just skin. Dig it.” He blinked, trying to focus on her, but she was sliding out of sight. A peach-colored blur. Like she was dissolving or something. Like she was leaving him behind…

His fist closed in her hair and he yanked her close. “You do not have my permission to leave me,” he snarled.

“I’m not.” She palmed his chest, trying to hold herself away from him.

“That’s what all the chicks say. Screw that.” He tightened his grip and pulled her closer. Needed a better hold on her hair. “Tired of people walking out. You trust ’em, they should stay.”

“You’re right. They should. And some do. Like me. So calm down.” She palmed his hip. “Is this a phone in your pocket?”

“A phone? Are you blind?” He grabbed her hand and set it on his crotch. “That’s like ten times bigger than a phone. More like a phone book, woman.”

She yanked her hand free and shoved it in his pocket. “I actually meant your phone.” She pulled out something silver and waved it in front of him. Maybe it was a phone. Maybe it was a harmonica. Hard to tell when she was moving it so quickly. Did he have a harmonica? Wasn’t sure.

But he did know that the item in her hand used to be in his jeans. “You stealing from me?”

“For God’s sake, Blaine! Of course not!” She fiddled with the object, and he hauled her down on top of him.

Her breasts hit his chest, and it felt right. Liked it. Liked her body against his. He set his hands on her hips and adjusted her to fit more closely between his thighs. “This is good.”

“Your face is turning gray. That can’t be a good thing.” Her voice echoed at him from a great distance, like it was dancing around his head

He tried again to look at her, but her face blended into the sunset behind her. Blurs of colors. He palmed her face, watching his hand meld into her lighter skin. “Nigel would like to paint this. Can’t cross-stitch it. Too amorphous.” Wanted to, though. Might be able to figure out a way. He lifted her hair and watched the golden streaks move across the sky. “Pretty.”

“This can’t be good. You’re hallucinating. Tell me you have Nigel’s number in your phone.”

His eyes were hurting. Too hard to see. He gave it up and closed them. Concentrated on touch. Tunneled his hand through her tresses. So silky. “Didn’t think there was anything softer than the Ritz Grande embroidery floss,” he mused. “Wrong.”

“Hello? Is this Nigel?”

He caught the back of her neck and pulled her down. Pressed his face to her throat. She smelled like baby powder and lavender. Barely there. Just the faintest hint, like she’d spritzed herself just for him, just for this moment of intimacy—

“No, this isn’t Blaine. I have his phone. I—” She stuttered as Blaine blew lightly on her neck. “Um… my name’s Trinity Harpswell, and I’m with Blaine. Something’s happened to him, and he kept saying you could help him, so—”

He kissed her throat.

“Stop it!” She pushed at his face, and he caught her hand. Pressed his lips to her palm. “No, not you, Nigel. Sorry. Yes. We’re on the BU bridge.”

Damn, her skin tasted good. The sweetness of brown sugar, with the delicacy of the lightest meringue. He caught her finger in his mouth and sucked on it. Wet and warm and so tantalizing. He wanted more. More skin. More tongue. More action. He licked the inside of her wrist.

“I—” She tried to get her hand free, and he tightened his grip on her.

“Not finished,” he muttered. Or maybe he said that. Wasn’t sure. Head was hurting like hell.

“I’m sorry, Nigel. I’m a little distracted. You want to know if he’s hot? Like on fire?”

Fire. Huh. That sounded familiar. Pretty sure he was supposed to be doing something with flames right now. Not sure what. Take a bath in a barbecue? Something like that.

Didn’t know. Just needed the girl. Felt good to be touched. Made him not think about how much his body hurt right now. He hooked his leg over her calf and trapped her. Yeah, liking that.

Trinity tried unsuccessfully to free her foot. “No. He’s not currently engulfed in flames. Why?”

Blaine grabbed the back of her head and tugged her face down toward his. He missed her mouth, caught a full frontal with a cold hard piece of electronics. His phone? Weird. Why was it in her cheek?

Trinity braced her hand on his chest, her fingertips digging into his skin. “Okay, I’ll try to get him to set himself on fire, but hurry up—”

Blaine yanked the phone out of her hand, tossed it aside, then fisted the back of her hair and brought her right down toward him.

“Hey—” Her mouth landed right on his, and he grinned.

Bull’s-eye.

Dear Lord Almighty, was this what a real kiss was like?

Trinity had a split second to think that it probably wasn’t a good idea to get intimate with a man who was potentially seconds away from a nuclear waste death after being contaminated by Augustus, and then the thought just didn’t seem to matter.

Nothing did.

Nothing except the feel of his mouth. Of the way his lips were consuming hers, taking them, compelling her response (as if he had to force her!). It was the kiss of a man who had decided he wanted it, and he was taking it.

No asking for permission.

No begging for forgiveness.

Just a kiss of utter and compete confidence, like there was no chance in hell that she didn’t want it as much as he did.

And you know, he was pretty much right.

She wound her hands around his neck, gripping the back of his head, trying to kiss him more deeply. How could she not? It felt so good. She was so used to being the strong one. Of worrying for the safety of the man she was with. Of running away if she was attracted to a guy. Of trying to seduce him if he grossed her out, which of course was just so anti-nature it was pathetic.

She never got cozy with the males who made her glad to be a woman. Too risky. But right now, in this moment, she didn’t really care about repercussions, control issues, or self-preservation.

She just wanted to be kissed.

Blaine ramped up his assault, and excitement danced in her belly and rode down her legs, like when she’d been on the bike and felt that vibration drive through her core. Only it wasn’t the bike between her legs. It was Blaine, and only Blaine. She could feel the muscles in his stomach flexing beneath her belly, felt the rising heat as he pressed his hips into her pelvis.

His thumb brushed over the side of her breast, and she jumped. Then his hand settled over it, cupping it like he was treasuring it. She was so liking that…

The man feeling her up had taken down Augustus for her. How could she not be jiving with a little down and dirty with him? That moment when he’d tackled Augustus and she’d seen him suck that black soot right out of her assailant… never in her life had she felt more like a woman than when he’d jumped in to protect her.

In that instant, she hadn’t had to be the strong one. He’d taken care of that for her, and it was the best feeling ever. When she’d watched him protecting her, it hadn’t been the black widow inside her that had responded with such longing. It had been herself. The core of who she was, because this man… this warrior… he was strength that she didn’t have, a raw tenacity that had eluded her in her quest to defeat the curse.

He was the personification of what she’d tried and failed to be, and she craved him on every level of her being. He was a warrior who could protect himself against her—

A dark force stirred, and she tensed. Hello, eight-legged freak, welcome to the party.

Oy. What was she doing? She couldn’t afford to succumb to her base instincts like some happy-go-lucky serial killer! She was a tightly wound spring and there would be no letting go. She wrenched her mouth away from his. “I can’t. We need to stop.”

Blaine began to suck on her collarbone. Yeah, how good did that feel? No wonder
Cosmo
listed it as the number one erogenous zone.

No! Stop! “Blaine! We can’t—”

He gripped her hair and forced her head back so he could kiss her throat. Oh, wow, total manly beast kind of thing to do, but… so hot. He was holding her so tightly, like he wasn’t going to let her go until he was finished with her. And in a supremely non-girl-power way, she absolutely loved it. Which is why she had to stop! “Get off me,” she managed.

“You’re on top.”

Was she? Weird. How had he managed that?

“You taste so good. Safe.” His words were slurred, but his mouth seemed to know exactly what it was doing as it worked her lips, caressing her mouth until he could slide that tongue of his right inside…

Safe? What did that mean? She knew what it was like to go through life being scared, but how could a man like Blaine have any reason to use that word?

He began to suck on her earlobe, and some sort of somethin’ somethin’ shot through her body. Ah… just a second. She’d stop him in a minute and—

“Well, hot damn. The king of abstinence has finally folded. Beer’s on me.”

She opened her eyes to find two huge guys crouching beside her. One of them was sporting an expression that made him look like he was ready to kill the next person who crossed his path, and the other would pass for the boy-next-door in his blue jeans, white T-shirt, and curls… if not for his blackened palms and the razor sharp blades poking out from the fingers on his left hand.

Both men were grinning at her, the kind of arrogant, male look that usually made her wish she could give the black widow gift to the string of broken hearts they’d left behind.

Then Blaine’s hand clamped down on her breast, his teeth sank into her earlobe, his whole body shuddered, and she looked down as his eyes rolled back in his head and a pink dust began crawling up his chest toward his head.

***

“Shit, woman!” The angry one yanked Trinity off Blaine and tossed her aside. “What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing!” She skidded across the pavement, wincing as the gravel scraped her palms. “It wasn’t me.”

“Nigel. Tell me you can heal him.” Not even bothering to check if she was okay after nearly throwing her into the Charles River, the warrior pulled out a large sword and began to whip it over his head, like he was winding up to unleash some catapult across the city. The air began to crackle, and the hair on her arms stood up.

Nigel hunched over Blaine and set his palm over Blaine’s heart. “He’s not tapping into his fire. What the bloody hell? You got a read on this, Jarvis?”

Jarvis pointed his sword at her. “What happened?” he demanded.

“He got pinked by Oh, Shit, It’s Augustus. And then Blaine sucked a whole bunch of black soot out of him. I’m not sure what it was.” Trinity grabbed the railing and scrambled to her feet. “He did it to save me.”

“Black magic.” Nigel shuddered, but he leaned over Blaine, pressing the heel of his hand into Blaine’s ribs. “Feels like I’m back in the Den. Can’t say I’m digging it.” His skin began to glow, and it seemed to pulse in time with the humming coming from the spinning sword. “Okay, buddy, let’s get you back with us.”

Trinity hugged herself as she watched the warriors work on Blaine. “Is he going to be okay?”

Nigel shrugged. “He hasn’t died on me yet.”

But that wasn’t an answer, and she knew it. A cold dread clawed at her heart as she watched Nigel rub Blaine’s chest, as Jarvis tried to generate more energy with his sword, as Blaine lay there unresponsive.

The scene was too familiar. Too haunting. Too many times she’d seen it. Kissing a man then watching helplessly as his life bled from him. “You have to save him.”

“Trying,” Nigel muttered. “Appreciate the advice, though.”

Her throat tightened as she watched Blaine’s chest fight for breath, the massive combatant strung out along the asphalt like he was dying. She inched toward him, and both warriors glared at her.

“You come one step closer,” Jarvis said, “and you’re toast.”

Um, yeah. There was no missing the promise in his eyes. Smart guy, not to trust her. She was high risk, in a major way. What was wrong with Blaine, claiming that it felt safe to kiss her? Hello? Could she be any more dangerous?

But when he’d made that comment, she’d forgotten that he was an arrogant killer. Instead, she’d let him into her heart, touched by the pain of another soul who lived in fear. She knew what it was like to crave safety, and her heart bled for anyone who felt the same. Had she loved him for that split second? Crossed that line and hurt him without even realizing what she was doing?

But as she looked at Blaine fighting for his life, she knew in her heart that she hadn’t. She didn’t love him. She hadn’t tried to kill him.

Not that it changed the fact he was still dying because of her. Because he’d protected her from Augustus.

Nigel leaned over Blaine. “The witch paid a visit while you were gone.” His voice was etched with concern that made her heart ache. As tough as these warriors were, they cared about each other, and that was so cool. No islands here, folksies. “Christian’s dying. And it’s your fault because you left without him.”

Jarvis cursed. “Are you insane, Nigel? He’ll kick your ass for that comment when he wakes up.”

“That’s my hope. Nothing like pissing a guy off to get him to decide to cheat death.”

But Blaine’s body went still, and the two warriors exchanged grim looks.

“What about Trinity?” Jarvis eyed her. “If she touches his tattoo, he might think she’s Angelica there to torture him. That’ll wake him up in a hurry.”

Trinity frowned. “Why would he think I’m Angelica?”

Nigel snapped his fingers at her. “Come here. Quick.”

Trinity didn’t hesitate. If she could keep someone else from dying, she was all over it. She bolted over to Nigel and dropped to her knees beside Blaine. “Tell me what I can do.”

Nigel ripped open Blaine’s shirt. On his chest was a skull and bones tattoo, a blackened brand burned into his skin. Nigel grabbed her hand and pressed her palm down over the mark. “Is it getting hot?”

“No. It’s cold.” Too cold. Like a corpse. And sadly, she knew what a corpse felt like.

Nigel adjusted his grasp on her wrist, shoving her hand more firmly against Blaine. Smoke began rising from Nigel’s palm, and she felt her arm begin to warm where he was holding onto her.

“She’s definitely got traces of Angelica,” Nigel told Jarvis. “We might be able to amp it up enough to fool him into going on the defensive.”

Trinity looked down at her fingers digging into the dark hairs on Blaine’s chest. This was so not how she’d envisioned finding out what his chest looked like. “I don’t understand. Why do I have traces of Angelica? Isn’t she the witch who tortured you guys?” She was so not liking the idea that she had a bio-chemistry akin to that of a murderous black witch. That couldn’t be a good sign, could it?

Nigel didn’t answer her. “Jarvis, harness more power. When I give the signal, put your sword over Trinity’s heart. I’ll hit her up the same time. I’m hoping we can amplify her energy level enough that it shocks him the way Angelica does.”

Jarvis began to whip the sword even faster, and Trinity’s skin began to smoke as Nigel’s palm got hotter. She bit her lip against the growing pain. “What are we doing?”

“Jumpstarting his tattoo. A magical defibrillator, if you will.” Nigel glanced at Jarvis, who nodded. Nigel looped his other arm around her neck, anchoring her against his body. “Three seconds.”

Trinity’s heart began to pound at the feel of being trapped against Nigel. He had one of her hands pinned to Blaine’s body, the rest of her locked down. She began to tremble. She couldn’t cope with not being in control. “Can you let go? I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“Just a precautionary measure, sweetheart.” Nigel tightened his hold on her as Jarvis moved closer. The hum from his sword was so loud she could feel it beating at her ears, throbbing in her chest.

Nigel wedged himself more tightly against her, and shoved her hand more firmly against Blaine. “This is going to hurt.”

She let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, well, I can live with that.” Anything to stop there from being one more death around her.

Respect flashed in his eyes, and then he nodded at Jarvis.

She looked up as Jarvis thrust his sword right toward her chest.

The sword was coming too fast, a blur, and she suddenly realized he wasn’t going to stop. Oh, no! Did they think she was immortal? “Wait—”

Then the sword sank right into her heart.

***

Angelica was trying to kill him.

Blaine suddenly became aware of her hated life force beating at him, her claws in his chest, trying to rip out the tattoo she’d always detested. Screw that. He wasn’t letting her win. He fought to open his eyes, to strike out. Couldn’t do shit. What the hell?

Muscles shot. Mind fried. Time for a car wash.

He set his tattoo on fire and then sent the conflagration racing through his body. The flames cut through the inertia, his body seized, and it was his own again.

He jerked upright and opened his eyes…

Only to find himself staring at Nigel. He blinked and turned his head. Jarvis was shooting some lame ass grin at him. Just the boys? He looked up. Blue sky. No Den. “Where’s Angelica?”

“Not here,” Jarvis said. “We tricked you.”

Painter boy grinned. “Nice recovery, Trio. Thought you were done there for a minute.”

Blaine realized his body was still aching, and he sent more fire through it to heal. “What happened?”

“Apparently, some dude named Augustus dusted you. Nearly took you out.” Nigel pointed over his shoulder. “More in a sec. Gotta save the girl.”

Blaine followed Nigel’s glance and saw Trinity on her back, blood pouring from a wound in her chest. “Shit! What did you do?” Her jumped up and jetted over to Trinity.

Her eyes flickered open when he crouched beside her. “Thought you were dead,” she mumbled. “Don’t scare me like that. I can’t deal with that stress.”

“I wasn’t dead. I’m immortal, for hell’s sake.” He pulled her onto his lap, and scowled when he felt how cold she was. He glared at Nigel. “You had to kill her?”

“Had to spill her blood and make you think it was Angelica attacking you. It was the only way to get you out of your self-pity apathy. And you’re welcome.” Nigel set his palms on Trinity’s chest as a faint humming filled the air again, indicating that Nigel was sending healing energy into the wound in her heart. “I couldn’t reach you. She saved your life.”

Trinity’s cold hand slid up to his face, and he looked down as she traced his jaw. “Yeah?”

“Did he just say I saved your life?”

Blaine snorted. “That would imply that I was dying, so no.”

She turned her head. “Truth, Nigel?”

Nigel smiled and began to rub the wound in a circular motion. The sound of running water filled the air, as it always did when Nigel was healing. “You did well, my dear. Blaine is like a motivational actor: always needs the right reason to decide to live again. Today, he needed you.”