Playing With Fire (6 page)

“Excuse me. The what-a’s?”

“The paras. Para-agencies.” When I made no reply, he added, “Agencies that deal with the paranormal, like PSI.”

“Whatever. Those agencies can go to hell,” I said, returning my attention to my hands. There were no burn marks, not a hint of redness. What struck me most, though, was how delicate they appeared next to Rome’s. While mine were slender and olive-toned, his were thick and strong. A lovely tawny color. My nails were a little scraggly—I hadn’t had the time (or inclination) to file them lately. His were perfectly buffed, obviously well maintained. Scars laced his palms.

“How did I start that fire?” I asked. “That was—that was…”

“Dangerous.” He let out another sigh. “You’re going to be more trouble than I anticipated.”

“You don’t know how I did it either, do you?” I felt like crying. “I set my fingers on fire, damn it. I don’t want to do that ever again. Not ever!”

“But you will. You’ll do worse before the day is out, I’m sure. These new abilities have already found their place in your chemical makeup. They’ve already changed you. While you slept, they were erratic and uncontrollable.” His words were whisper-soft, a caress that traveled along my spine. “Now…”

“Now?” I prompted, my stomach twisting painfully.

“Now you must wield them, not they you. You must dominate them or they will consume you.”

I tried to turn and look at him, but he stopped me by resting his chin on top of my head. Fine. He didn’t want me to move, I wouldn’t move. “How do you know they’ll consume me?” I asked, remaining in place.

“Maybe I’ve been where you are.”

My mouth fell open, and I instinctively tried to glance at him again. He applied more pressure to my head, keeping me immobile. “You can control the four elements, too?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate.

I bit the inside of my cheek at such a cryptic nonanswer. He’d been where I was, yet he hadn’t experienced the same thing. How? Why? I despised this puzzle; I
needed
answers. Rome was the only person I knew who understood what was happening to me. And so, unfortunately, this government agent who’d threatened to neutralize me was also my only link to sanity. And I didn’t even know his last name.

“Help me understand, Rome. Please.”

No response.

Tears gathered in my eyes as wave after wave of helplessness bombarded me. “I won’t let you kill me, and I won’t let you take me to a lab. I didn’t ask for this to happen to me.”

“But it did happen.” His fingers became steel shackles on my wrists. “And just so you know, I didn’t keep you alive—” He cut himself off. “I didn’t keep you alive to watch you escape.” A note of warning dripped from his voice.

Before I had time to act, before I had time to protest, he had my arms anchored behind my back, wrists tied together. The cord he bound me with was cool and firm, unyielding—and foreshadowed malevolence.

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Let me go! What are you doing?”

He gripped my shoulders and whipped me around, finally letting me see his face. His gaze pierced me with a fierceness that somehow managed to shock, frighten and rock me all at once. It darted over me, hungry, reading me, perhaps, before it went flat again, the light in it suppressed as quickly as it had flared.

“Your five minutes are up.”

F
ASTER THAN
I
COULD OFFER
up a prayer of “strike this bastard dead” I was trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey and tossed over Rome’s shoulder. While he had me in such an undignified position, he tied my ankles with the rest of the cord.

“Put me down this instant!” I shouted, attempting to knee him in his midsection.

“Stop wiggling.” He purposefully bounced me on his shoulder, cutting off my air when my stomach hit the sharp edge of his collarbone.

When I could breathe again, I muttered, “You’re squashing my kidneys and my pancreas! Do you know how dangerous that is? Put me down before I sink into a coma.”

“If you can point to exactly where your pancreas is located, I’ll do as you so sweetly asked.”

“It’s—oh! Damn you. Put me down right now. I do not want my face in your ass.”

He chuckled, that deep, seductive sound all the more potent because this time it held rusty layers of disuse, as if he didn’t allow true humor in his life very often.

Keeping his stride smooth and easy so I didn’t bounce on his shoulder again, he sailed down the short hallway and into the kitchen. He plopped me onto a bar stool. Without the use of my hands, I teetered precariously and almost tumbled to the floral linoleum.

“Now we eat and talk.” He moved to the other side of the counter, heaping a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon.

I glared over at him, ignoring my grumbling stomach. “We
were
talking. There was no reason to tie me up like this.”

“There was every reason.” His gaze veered pointedly to my bound hands. “Call me silly, but I’d rather not be roasted alive.”

I took some comfort in that and grinned smugly. “Afraid of me, Rome?”

He snorted. “Afraid of your inability to control yourself, more like.”

Score one (or twelve million, but who’s counting?) for Rome. I lost all sense of superiority, and my shoulders slumped. He was right. If I could catch my own fingers on fire without any provocation—that I knew of—what else could I do? I hated having powers.

The moment the thought filled my head, I blinked. Powers. Me. Would I ever get used to those two words used in conjunction?

“You’re as likely to harm yourself as me,” Rome said. He set the plate between us, scooped a portion of eggs onto a spoon and offered me the bite. “Open.”

“Like hell—oomph!”

The moment I opened my mouth, he shoveled in the spoon. The jerk. The bast—Oh, this tasted good. So good. The taste exploded on my tongue, the flavor more defined than anything I’d ever experienced. I closed my eyes, enjoying the buttery delight. He’d seasoned them just right. Killer, neutralizer and master chef. Odd combination.

He cleared his throat, gaining my attention. His eyes were on the food, not me, so I couldn’t read the emotion there. Like I could have, anyway.

“I have a proposition for you.” His voice was a little scratchy.

I swallowed and opened my mouth for more. If the eggs were poisoned, I’d willingly die. His brows arched. “Bite,” I said. “What kind of proposition?”

The heaping spoon trekked back to my mouth. I kind of liked being fed—and I didn’t like that I liked it. Especially by this man. I frowned at him, just to make a point.

“The kind where I help you, then you help me.”

Another bite. “Help me how? By putting me out of my supposed misery? By helping me save the world from my evil self?”

A flicker of anger sparked in his too-blue eyes, lighting them up. They quickly darkened again. “Will you stop that already? I didn’t kill you, and I’m not going to.”

“You came at me with a needle.”

“I didn’t use it on you.”

“Yes, you did. I remember a sting in my arm.”

He rolled his eyes. “I gave you a sedative to help you sleep. You were tossing and turning.”

“That doesn’t negate the fact that you did, in fact, try to neutralize me.”

“Are you this unforgiving with everyone?” He stuffed a piece of bacon into my mouth. “A man makes one little mistake and you hold it over his head for eternity.”

I nearly choked and had to force the chunk of salty meat down my throat. Once I regained my breath, I gasped, “One little mistake? Did you just say one little mistake? Is that what you said?”

“Yeah.” His expression was deadpan, with no flicker of emotion—which I absolutely hated and which he was so damn good at. I scowled while he put a bite of egg into his mouth and chewed.

How could he remain so unreadable? He was like a light switch. If he wanted me to know his thoughts, he showed them to me. If he didn’t, well, I got nothing.

“I’m finding it hard to believe you consider trying to kill me a little mistake.
Little
is forgetting to put the toilet seat down.
Little
is leaving your socks on the floor.
Little
is putting a dent in my car and pretending you didn’t do it.” I was growling by the time I finished my diatribe.

“Are you thirsty?”

I blinked over at him, momentarily rendered speechless. “That’s your response to me? You ask if I’m thirsty?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushed to his feet and strode to the olive-green cabinets that perfectly matched the outdated green striped counter. At least this room didn’t boast the same peeling yellow paint as the bedroom. Instead it had green polka-dotted wallpaper.

With the familiarity of a man who knew his way around, he reached inside and withdrew a glass. “Is this your place?” I asked.

“Hardly.”

“Then whose is it? Does the owner know you’re a criminal and holding me against my will?”

“For the moment, this is
our
place.” He paused, his expression mocking. “I feel warm and fuzzy all of a sudden. I just realized it’s like we’re on a secret honeymoon.”

Honeymoon of horror. “Did you kill someone to get this dump?”

A grin tugged at his lips. “Do you think this poorly of everyone or am I just lucky?” He procured a carton of orange juice from the fridge and poured some into the glass, the pleasant gurgle of cascading liquid the only sound for a moment.

I could have said the obvious: I only think poorly of those who want to neutralize me. Instead I asked, “How long was I out after you stuck me with that needle?” effectively changing the subject. I didn’t really want to know what he’d done with the apartment’s owner.

“A little over twelve hours.” Instead of bringing me the drink, he gazed down at it, his hands circling the sides. I saw only his profile, so I couldn’t read his expression. Not that he’d have one. I’d never met anyone who could mask emotions as quickly as he could. “Would it help if I apologized?” he asked.

I blinked. “For trying to kill me?”

“Trying to
neutralize
you.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not, but would it help?” he pressed. His gaze remained on the glass.

I didn’t have to think about my answer. “No.”

“Then I won’t bother.”

My jaw tightened, almost snapping. “Why did you spare me? You still haven’t answered that.”

Ignoring the question yet again, he finally turned toward me and closed the distance between us, eyeing me determinedly. “I’ll tell you this. If I’d been totally serious about hurting you, you’d be dead. I could have broken that shield if I’d put any effort into it. I could have sliced your throat while you slept. I could have pumped you full of drugs and done anything I wanted to you.”

I shuddered. Yes, he could have done all of those things. He hadn’t. “Why didn’t you?” How many times would he force me to ask?

He shrugged, but the action lacked animosity. “Open.”

Obediently, I parted my lips. The cool glass touched the edge of my mouth a second before a rush of tangy juice slid down my throat. The vibrant flavor awakened more taste buds. God, I’d never had such a delicious meal.

Rome set the cup aside and spooned up a dripping, syrupy bite of pancake. “That other agency I mentioned before—OASS, the non-government-sanctioned one—won’t hesitate to take you down. They’ll strike first and ask questions later.”

I swallowed, the food suddenly tasting like lead. “While I think it’s great that the man assigned to kill me—”

“Neutralize you,” he interjected through clenched teeth.

“Whatever. It’s the same thing. And while I—”

“It’s not the same thing. I only meant to knock you out.”

“Yeah, but you wanted to knock me out for, like, ever.”

He uttered a frustrated sigh. “I never planned to kill you.”

Another bite. “Okay, then. Once you knocked me out for most of eternity, what did you plan to do with me?”

His cheeks darkened, and the fine lines around his eyes tightened. “I planned to put you into a coma—uh, deep sleep, and take you to my boss so he could experiment on you, then put you to work for him or lock you up. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

I didn’t know whether he meant the words in truth or in jest. Either way, they sucked. “What made you change your mind? And don’t sidestep the question this time.”

“I checked. You weren’t lying about your dad.” For some reason, he sounded accusatory. “You pay for his stay at the assisted living center, and he can’t leave it because of his regimented medications.” Rome shrugged. “There’s more to it than that, but I’m not going to discuss it with you right now.”

Did I believe him? Did I believe that he now meant me no harm? “If you’re so big on keeping me alive now, prove it. Untie me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But—”

He cut off my words by stuffing more pancake into my mouth. “You have no idea of the damage you can do. Your inexperience is dangerous.”

I forced the food down my throat. “Inexperience? Uh, hello. In case you were wondering, this isn’t a new job I applied for.
No one
has experience with this.”

His gaze narrowed on me. “You’re likely to get more experience than you’re prepared for if you don’t learn to slow down on the emotional trigger. Have you noticed that bad things happen when you get mad?”

“Are you saying the fire is caused by anger?” I ran my tongue over my teeth. “Well, anyone would be quick to respond with fury if they woke up half-naked with a hired goon at the foot of their bed.”

“Hired goon.” He laughed. “I like that.”

“Excellent,” I said drily. “Then you’ll probably like Rat Bastard, as well.”

He didn’t lose his amusement. “All I’m saying is that your emotions go unrestrained. You don’t try to tamp them down in the least.”

“I do, too! If I didn’t, I’d have fed you your balls at our first meeting.”

“Ah, that kind of sweet talk really turns me on.” Another grin, this one slower, more leisurely, spread over his features, softening his expression, making him look all the sexier, and giving him a charm I found irresistible.

I stiffened, not liking how attractive I found him. How stupid could I be? Apparently the more time I spent with him, the lower my IQ dropped. My eyes narrowed, and I worked at the cord binding my wrists, doing my best not to let him see my arms wiggle.

“Just so you know,” he said, feeding me another spoonful of eggs. His countenance lost all traces of humor; his eyes went flat. “I’m not the only hired goon to show up at the foot of your bed. Someone broke into your apartment last night.”

“What?” My back straightened.

“He tried to steal you from me.” Rome’s voice deepened, became utterly menacing. “I knew more like him would come, so I got you out of there as quickly and quietly as possible and brought you here.”

I paused, my blood chilling at the thought of the danger I’d encountered and hadn’t known about. I didn’t doubt for a second that Rome was telling the truth about this. My dreams, I realized, hadn’t really been dreams. They’d been real. Too real. I’d seen a man come at me with a knife.

But he hadn’t killed me because…because…The answer clicked into place. Rome had killed him first. Rome had protected me. Up to this point, I’d been able to use sarcasm and humor to mask my fear; I couldn’t now. This was real, in-your-face death. It couldn’t be undone. Wasn’t pretend.

“He tried to stab me,” I whispered, going pale. “I remember seeing his weapon.”

Rome blinked in surprise. “No. He tried to kidnap you. He tried to stab
me.
You know an awful lot for someone who was supposedly asleep.”

“I only saw bits and pieces, but I thought…I thought it was a dream.”

“No, no dream.” He pinched a bite of eggs. “What else did you see?”

“There was a jaguar there. I saw—” My brow furrowed. “Surely I’m wrong. Surely there wasn’t a wild animal in my apartment.”

“No, of course there wasn’t,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re blending your dreams with reality.”

But the sights, the sounds had been so real. So vivid.
Uh, hello. If a jungle cat had been there, there would be signs. Like a gnawed-off arm.
“Who was the man?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I didn’t care to stop and ask his name. All I know is that his boss, Vincent, won’t be pleased with the failure. Vincent will send more agents, and honey, trust me when I say you do not want them to capture you. I’ve seen what Vincent does to his victims. He’ll test you, painfully, cruelly, in ways even my boss has outlawed. And then, if you’re still alive, he’ll force you by whatever means necessary to work for him.”

Terrifying words, but Rome wasn’t finished. “And don’t think you can lie to him, tell him you’ll work for him and escape.
His
power is making people tell the truth. No one can lie to the man. No one. And it’s not because some women find him attractive,” he added drily.

Attractive. Pretty Boy…Vincent. It made sense. I’d wanted to tell Pretty Boy all my secrets, I recalled. The pulse in my neck hammered wildly. “Isn’t that what
your
boss wants to do to me? Test me, then make me work for him?”

“Not painfully, and not by force. You’ll either do what he wants or be imprisoned like the other naughty supernatural beings.”

“What kind of supernatural beings are we talking about?”

“Shape-shifters of every kind. People who can walk through walls or suck the soul right out of you. I believe I mentioned the people whose bodily fluids are so toxic they’ll kill you if they even breathe on you. Shall I go on?”