Resisting the Bad Boy - A Standalone Bad Boy Romance

by Gabi Moore

  With a small growl, Aurora took a deliberate inhale. Still nothing. Slowly, she pushed out the breath through her nose, feeling her nerves settle a little as she did so. She could definitely do with less nerves, so she took another breath in, and another breath out.

  “Concentrate on feeling the air circulate through your body.”

  “That’s not what happens—”

  “Don’t get scientific on me. Just focus on the feeling of drawing in life with each breath, and exhaling the stress and negativity.”

  “Don’t get meta on me, now,” Aurora muttered, but she did as Milo said, envisioning the air circle through her. But then, in her mind, it wasn’t really air. That isn’t what it felt like, after all. When she focused, it felt more like particles, dust motes, glowing and living, that she drew in with each breath. And when she exhaled… it seemed as though she was expelling ash.

  Shocked, Aurora blinked. The vision in her head had been so vivid. She closed her eyes and tried again, not even noticing how closely Milo had begun to watch her.

  It came easier this time, the glowing particles and dark ash spots clear in her mind’s eye. Aurora followed their progress, watched the golden specks gather in her chest, and the black ones swirl into the room and dissipate. Fascinated, she had no idea how long she watched, when she realized all of a sudden that she wasn’t the only one with the glowing dust motes.

  They flocked around Lester and Milo, in much greater density than Aurora. She kept her eyes shut, but in some abstract way she could see the two of them sitting there, glowing.

  “Whoa,” she murmured, hardly daring to breathe. The particles filtered in and out of her with the air the moved with her speech.

  Milo’s hands were still outreached; Aurora inched her own hands closer to them without even a thought for what might happen. She watched, amazed and enthralled, as the gold particles in Milo’s skin began to creep towards her, like metal shavings to a magnet. Her fingers grew nearer and nearer until his hands were just below hers; still the particles snailed up to the surface, as if they were survivors hailing a plane.

  Aurora had no idea what all this meant, but she took the next obvious step. She lowered her hands to rest on top of Milo’s, as he had asked.

  Immediately, the gold particles seeped into her. Aurora gasped; it felt like summer sunlight, after a long winter. Wonderful, full of hope and promises of better days. Tears welled up in her still-shut eyes. It had been a long, long time since she had ever felt something so warm.

  Take more. The voice in her head was unfamiliar; it wasn’t even a voice really. It was something primal, like the need to sleep and eat. It wound through her brain over and over, with the same two words. Take more take more take more take more…

  It seemed a thrilling thing to do, and Aurora couldn’t figure out why. Yes, these light drops, like snowflakes, were beautiful and filled her with contentment and wellness. When they absorbed into her skin, she felt rested and whole, as if she would never need anything again. She knew she didn’t need more, but she called for it anyway, summoned it instinctively from Milo’s body, just because she could.

  A sharp cry jolted Aurora out of her meditation, and her eyes snapped open.

  “That’s probably enough for now,” Milo said hastily. He’d already withdrawn his hands.

  Her heart punched a beat against the hollow of her throat, terrified. “What was that?” she asked. If her voice was higher and shriller than usual, no one mentioned it.

  Milo went through several facial expressions, a grimace, surprise, hesitation, then resignation.

  “That… well, that was a taste of your powers.”

  “That was…” Aurora’s voice failed her, and she flopped back against the couch. “That was… amazing! What—did you see the lights, too? What was that?”

  “It was how your father beat me the first time,” Milo muttered.

  Aurora froze. She dropped from her cloud like a stone, and looked at Milo, really looked at him, in the light of the lamps. His young face seemed to have aged a few years in just seconds—or had it been minutes? Aurora was no longer sure. She felt bright and vibrant, which was the exact opposite of how Milo looked. His skin was grayish and his hands were shaking. His blue eyes were sunken and ringed in dark bruises.

  “Oh my God!” Aurora leapt forward and put out her hands to help, although she had no idea what she was going to do about his condition.

  Milo flinched back. It was clearly a reflex, but it stung nonetheless.

  “I’m sorry,” Aurora snapped—and felt sorrier still for snapping. What had she done?

  “You did what you’re designed to do,” Milo answered her thought. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the couch. “You took some of my energy. I can regain it the normal way, sleep and food, but I can only recover so fast. Don’t worry, I’ll be all right… eventually. And hey, can you check to see if Lucien has anything to eat in that fridge? Shapeshifters are always hungry, I’m sure he has something…”

  Aurora leapt up in her socks (she still hadn’t put her boots back on) and hurried into the kitchen. Like the bathroom, Lucien kept his kitchen neat and clean, and she dug out a can of loaded baked potato soup from the cupboard and threw it in a bowl. All of this she jammed in the microwave and hit buttons until it roared to life.

  “What was that?!” Aurora asked again, even less calm now than before. “Milo! Did I just suck the life out of you?”

  From the couch, Milo looked at her, eyes glittery bright in his sunken face. And that was answer enough for Aurora. She stood there, breathing as if it pained her, feeling the euphoria of Milo’s life force that she’d stolen right out of him. The microwave beeped before she spoke again, and then Aurora was able to busy herself in retrieving the sizzling canned soup stirring it frantically to hide her fear.

  “Here,” she set it on the table in front of Milo. “Careful. It’s hot as hell.”

  Milo gave an unimpressed snort and scooted towards the bowl. Indeed, it was still sending up wafts of steam where it sat. He sighed.

  “Look, don’t get upset,” he told her. But even as he told her this, his voice was scratchy and small, like a lesser version of what it had been just minutes ago. Aurora rubbed her face.

  “Don’t get upset? How can you say that? Could I have killed you, if I kept it up?”

  Milo shrugged. “Of course. You could have taken all my life force—the coroner would have said I starved to death and wasn’t getting enough oxygen at the same time. The cells of my body were straining to support me on nothing, and finally, everything just shut down.”

  “And you tell me not to be upset?!”

  “Yes, Aurora.” Milo picked up the spoon and tried a tiny bite of soup. “Mmm loaded baked potato. Anyway, yes, I’m telling you not to get upset. It’s not like this is some uncontrollable thing. You chose to take more of me than you needed. Next time, just don’t.”

  At the mention, Aurora grew uncomfortable. She sat back down on the couch. “You know?”

  “Of course I know. We were connected for a minute.” Milo took another bite, and blew madly on the soup until he wheezed. It didn’t work very well; the bowl still steamed. “But you’re learning. You had to learn what could happen, and it’s better that it was with me than with someone who doesn’t know to pull away, believe me.”

  “I don’t think it’s better,” Aurora pointed out irritably.

  “It probably is.” Milo shrugged. “Just look at yourself. You look almost back to normal. The energy did you good.”

  “Yeah, by taking it from you.”

  He made a frustrated sound in his throat. “You’ve been doing it without realizing for a long time,” Milo told her, exasperated. “Years. Your ability to draw people’s energy has grown with you, and believe me, it’s driving Ian crazy. It’s really a huge help. As your abilities grow, he gets weaker. Eventually, you’ll kill him without even meaning to.”

  “What?” Aurora shrieked. How could he just say thi
s, like it was nothing? Seeing Milo’s face, she took a deep breath and tried again. “Look, I get it that you’ve been at this for years, but I just found out my father is alive, I just found out he’s in New York, I just found out he wants to get to me, and I just found out about all this stuff that’s been happening for years behind my back. Do you even understand how it feels when you tell me I have to kill him?”

  Aurora mentally shook herself. Of course Milo knew; he was probably the only one out of all of them who knew precisely what she was going through because he could read her mind. He was watching her now, probably listening to all this play out, but it didn’t show on his face.

  Finally, he sighed. “I’m sorry we’re all being so callous. We aren’t trying to be—you’ll just have to believe that we aren’t.

  “BUT,” Milo held a finger to silence her. “But. Keep in mind that you’ve never known your father. You’ve never met him. You don’t know how he is. But we were all friends before he left… so if you think it’s cruel for us to talk so openly about killing your dad, try to think how long it took for us to accept killing our friend.”

  “I’ve only got one father, though,” Aurora pointed out. He was right and she knew it. But damn if she was going to own up to that—not when it forced her to consider the reality that was coming her way. That they were all right. That eventually, she was going to do exactly what they expected her to. “You all still have each other.”

  “And you have us, too,” Milo insisted, stirring his soup. “You’re going to have to get used to us butting in, now. You’ll love and hate us as much as a real family in no time, believe me.”

  Aurora sighed and watched him poke at the soup—she hadn’t eaten since the eggrolls yesterday. When she’d been shaken awake by Lucien, her appetite had been gnawing out the inside of her belly. Now, however, she was barely interested. Her hunger was gone. It was a disconcerting thought.

  “I’ve never had a real family,” she realized suddenly. Milo had a mouthful of baked potato soup, so she rambled on. “It’s been just me and my Momma for… all my life. I guess I have grandparents in Louisiana, but they didn’t approve of her running off with my father, so I’ve never spoken to them. I’ve never even seen pictures of them. We don’t have any at all in the apartment.”

  Milo chewed thoughtfully. “Your mother always used to say she didn’t look back because she wasn’t going in that direction.”

  Aurora smiled. And then, she looked at Milo sharply.

  “How long ago?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Ramona in… what… twenty years?”

  Aurora frowned at him. “How old did you say you were?”

  Milo poked at his soup coyly. “I didn’t.”

  “You’re really old, aren’t you? I mean, like Mr. Cheng and Madame Moreau were way too old to still be alive. You are too, aren’t you?”

  Milo gave a gasp of mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m not a day over sixty.”

  “Sixty?! What about Lucien?!”

  “Now, Lucien hasn’t joined the actual circle yet. He’s in the… outer circle, I guess you would call it, so he’s still aging at almost the normal rate. But he’s about forty-two.”

  Aurora’s mouth dropped open. Lucien didn’t look a day over thirty! But then, he’d mentioned it, hadn’t he? He’d claimed to have been there when Aurora’s father went rogue. That would have to put him over forty, at least.

  “You’re slowing down, too, though you’re too young to really notice it,” Milo went on. “Lester, too.” Aurora had almost forgotten Lester was there; he’d been quiet as a mouse through the whole conversation. At the mention of his name, Lester stood suddenly.

  “I’m going to get a shower in,” he announced, even as he was walking out of the room. “Those clothes I left here should still be under Lucien’s counter…”

  “You’ll have to forgive him,” Milo told Aurora as the bathroom door closed. “He was very close to Moreau. Even before… he’s always been on the shy side. When he manages to come to grips with it all, and when gets to know you, he’ll hardly shut up.”

  Come to grips with it? That sounded familiar. Aurora sighed and leaned back into the couch. Her mother disappearing, her father being alive, herself being some sort of energy vampire. She had a lot of ‘coming to grips’ to do on her own.

  Chapter 10

  The afternoon was wearing quite thin by the time Aurora got Milo to admit that something might have gone wrong.

  Shut up in Lucien’s apartment, it was easy to start feeling cabin fever. The first time she’d restlessly brought up the time to Milo, he’d pointed this out gently. He convinced her that she was just unaccustomed to being shut up inside all day, and that with everything happening over the last thirty-six hours, it was normal to start thinking disaster lurked around every corner. So Aurora settled down a little to wait.

  It had been a whole day sine Lucien left, now, and the cabin fever argument was wearing thin. Milo wouldn’t let any of them leave, but even he couldn’t pretend that Lucien shouldn’t have been back by now.

  “He might have run into trouble,” he admitted, reluctant.

  He might have run into trouble. Those were terrifying words to Aurora, who already felt as if all her control had been stripped away. Her life was in these peoples’ hands, and now he might have run into trouble?

  “What do we do?” Aurora asked urgently. What she wanted to ask was, ‘What can I do?’ or ‘What will you let me do?’ or ‘Please, for God’s sake, let me do something!’ But this was all so new. Was there anything she could even offer in the way of help?

  Milo had quite recovered from being partially drained. His skin had regained color, and he looked quite as young as ever. He paced slowly around the apartment, frowning.

  “This is a pickle,” he sighed. “Moreau gone, now Cheng and Lucien gone. I can’t really leave you and Lester, can I? Besides the fact that my powers aren’t really offensive. Well…” he smirked and shrugged. “Not in the fighting sort of way.”

  “Let me go,” Lester piped up; it was only now that Aurora realized his voice still had a squeaky quirk to it. Just finished changing. He really was young. “I can fight better than you can.”

  “Sometimes,” Milo replied grimly. “Other times, you still freeze up. You need some practice before I throw you out alone.”

  “You might not have much of a choice,” Lester pointed out.

  Milo didn’t answer that. Aurora guessed that he didn’t have a ready reply—after all, Lester had hit the nail on the head.

  In fact, it looked like Milo was about ready to give in altogether when the apartment door slammed open.

  Aurora jumped out of the way as Lucien and Mr. Cheng stumbled into the apartment. She was so shocked, her brain took a while to process what she was seeing—both of them were naked. Mr. Cheng was wrapped in what looked like an old blanket, staggering along, but Lucien wore nothing, not even shoes.

  Heat rushed up Aurora’s face and she spun away, torn between helping Mr. Cheng to the couch and desperately not wanting to see him without clothes. Lucien wouldn’t have been so bad—except that Milo was right there, probably with an eye on her mind, and she’d rather not have him in her head when looking at all of Lucien’s bare skin.

  At least Milo seemed too busy to notice at the moment as he dived across the room, grabbing one of Mr. Cheng’s arms to help guide him to the couch. “Easy there, Cheng. Close the door! What happened?”

  “There were a lot of them, more than we expected,” Lucien replied, still naked, as he shut and locked the door. “When they lost our trail, they all went back and converged on Cheng. He’s been fighting all night—you should have seen the mess by the time I got there. He’s going to need some sleep, but I’m not sure this is the place for it.”

  “What do you mean?” Lester asked. He was in the kitchen, throwing food in the microwave.

  Aurora was still turned away, but she heard the grim tone as Lucien answered, and could imagin
e his face. “They followed us here. They can’t get in yet, but Ian knows where we are.”

  Silence fell in the apartment, broken only by the tiny chiming of Lucien’s many wards. There was no air current, no breeze inside, but some of the charms were moving, now, as if stirred by forces unseen. A chill went down Aurora’s spine.

  “What about Lester’s ward on you?” Milo asked, breaking the eerie silence.

  “Still there,” Lucien replied. “But it seemed to falter once I changed. And it doesn’t extend to Cheng.”

  “Dammit,” Lester muttered. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “What now?” Milo asked, urgent.

  “I don’t know!” Lucien exclaimed. “Without Moreau we can’t move around unseen for long. We could make it to another safehouse, probably…”

  “I… know where we… must go.”

  Every eye in the room (even Aurora peered back over her shoulder) turned to Mr. Cheng, who had managed to sit up unaided on the couch. He blinked and looked around the room, still in a bit of a daze. He shook his head a bit, as if to clear it.

  “There is a… safehouse,” he continued. His voice seemed odd, and if he was having trouble speaking. Immediately, Aurora was worried. How badly had he been injured? “Moreau and I… kept it secret. In Manhattan.”

  “We have a safehouse in Manhattan?” Milo asked, bewildered.

  Aurora looked at Milo. How had they kept a secret from him?

  “Yes,” Cheng replied. “For years. Near Moreau’s home.”

  It didn’t surprise Aurora at all to hear that Madame Moreau had lived in the Upper East. What was shocking was knowing that they had managed to procure an extra property there, an auxiliary base, pouring money in property taxes and upkeep into real estate that most of them didn’t even know about. Just how much extra income did they have?

  “Let’s get you two dressed,” Milo suggested. “How long will we be safe for?”

  Lucien shrugged. “Probably no more than a few hours before they narrow our location down. All the charms have this entire building in a fog, but they’ll figure out where it’s coming from sooner or later.”