Touch If You Dare

by Stephanie Rowe

  Reina shoved her bangs off her face, her movement restless and agitated. “I’m kind of on thin ice with him right now. I can’t really risk my position.”

  “Fine.” He wasn’t going waste time begging. He had her where he wanted her and she’d figure it out sooner if he just left her to work it out.

  Jarvis headed toward the cross street where his car was parked. He’d already made it to the corner when Reina finally spoke up. “Wait.”

  He looked back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “You really know someone? You’ll help me with Augustus?” She sounded so doubtful it pissed him off.

  “Hey.” He strode back across the bricks toward her. “I don’t make many promises, but when I make them, I keep them. Hell, yeah, I’ll help you. What kind of question is that?”

  She jerked backward, and he realized suddenly that he was reaching for her, ready to grab her.

  Shit. He dropped his hand. The last thing he needed was to taint her up by touching her and infecting her with his hate. Jesus. He was getting edgy. One comment questioning his moral integrity had set him off? What did he care what she thought of him, or whether she understood exactly how good he was at what he did? Since when did a woman’s opinion matter to him? It didn’t. But for some reason, one flicker of doubt from Reina felt like a full assault to his manhood. He needed her to realize how great he was, and that was seriously messed up. Reina was getting to him in a way he couldn’t afford.

  “Jarvis?” Reina was looking at him warily, and he felt something twitch inside him. Something he didn’t like.

  Hell, he was outta here. He had to go find a fight. Sparring practice. Anything to bleed off the negative energy amassing inside him.

  Jarvis turned sharply and headed straight for his car. He had to get away before he went over the edge. The hate was building, the monster was coming, and being around Reina was stripping his self-control. He needed to get out of there, and now.

  He was nearly sprinting by the time he reached the corner.

  ***

  “Questioning a warrior’s abilities isn’t always a wise thing.” Nigel offered the unsolicited advice to Reina as she watched Jarvis heading away from her. “We tend to get offended. Might want to rethink that approach.”

  Jarvis was leaving. It was a relief, but at the same time, she felt like a piece of hope had just been ripped out of her heart. She took a step in the direction Jarvis had gone. He was dangerous and unpredictable, and he wanted her to risk her job in a way she absolutely couldn’t afford, but he’d said he could help. Could he really? Would the payback destroy her dreams, or was he her chance to succeed? He was powerful enough to do it. She knew he was. But was she strong enough to survive him? “Do you know who he’s talking about? The people who would pay for a soul harvesting?”

  Nigel didn’t look up from his sketching. “I have an idea.”

  “So, you help me.” She gave her full attention to Nigel. He was a lethal warrior, but he didn’t scare her like Jarvis did, despite his leather pants and impressive muscles. Maybe it was the pale pink rose tattooed beneath his cheekbone. Maybe it was because Nigel’s obsession with his art gave the illusion of him being in control. Either way, Nigel didn’t unsettle her the way Jarvis did, so working with him would be so much smarter. Granted, Nigel didn’t compel her either, but that was good, right? She had no time for compelling men. “Will you? Please?”

  His pen kept flying across the page. “Nope.”

  She fisted her hands in frustration at his careless dismissal. Didn’t he understand how important this was? “But why not? He left. I’m sure he doesn’t want to—”

  Nigel tapped his pen against his tattoo and studied her. “It’s like how you don’t date your buddy’s ex. He made the offer. You’re his property now.”

  “What?” She was horrified, but at the same time a thrill of excitement went through her. “I don’t belong to anyone. I just want to save my sister. Jarvis—”

  Nigel gave her an interested look when she cut herself off. “Jarvis what?”

  “Scares me,” she admitted.

  He nodded. “Smart girl. He should.” He leaned the pad against his chest and studied her. “But what should scare you more is what will happen if you don’t help him. Forget what he can do for you. If you don’t help Jarvis, nothing else will matter. Nothing.”

  A chill rippled over her, and she rubbed her arms. A warrior of such strength needed her? It scared her to think of Jarvis facing something so dangerous he couldn’t defeat it himself, but at the same time, to think that she could help him… it was empowering. A gift. Exactly the thing she’d strived for and failed at with every member of her family. She’d tried to help. She’d failed them. Could she really make a difference with Jarvis? “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a good man.” Nigel’s face grew deadly serious. “Honorable. Without him, many of us would have died long ago.” He leaned forward. “He honors you by asking for your help and offering you his assistance. You should get down on your knees and bow to him. He’s that fucking good.” A blade suddenly appeared in Nigel’s hand. “I will not let anyone betray him,” he said. “Ever.”

  Reina stiffened at Nigel’s intensity. Where was the easygoing art guy? “I wasn’t going to betray him. I just—”

  Nigel looked down at the blade. Surprise flashed across his face, then he closed his hand and the knife disappeared, as if it had never been there. But they both knew it had. “He’s leaving.” Nigel pointed his pen down the street. “You’re losing your chance to team up with the best fucking warrior alive.”

  Jarvis was pulling up to the intersection in a black Escalade. Leaving. Right now. She had no time to process or evaluate! How could she possibly agree to a deal she didn’t even know the terms of? “I don’t—”

  Jarvis revved the engine and began to drive away.

  Nigel grabbed her arm. “Go to him. Now.” Then he shoved her in Jarvis’s direction.

  Damn all men! Make her an offer she couldn’t afford to refuse, with terms she couldn’t afford to accept, and then give her zero time to decide, look for other options, or to have some other sane kind of response. Decision made under duress, anyone?

  Duress or not, she knew she couldn’t risk losing her one chance. Her choice had been made. She ran, and Nigel saluted her with a pleased grin.

  She didn’t bother to respond. She just hauled ass down the street, praying she would make it before it was too late.

  He was just pulling out when Reina leapt out in front of his truck and slammed her hands down on the hood. As she knew he would, he jammed on the brakes in time to avoid crushing her, then he gestured for her to get off his SUV.

  “I accept your offer,” she shouted.

  Jarvis checked the rearview mirror, then shifted into reverse. What? He was bailing on her? She raced around to the side and yanked open the passenger door. “Wait—”

  “Back off.” He shifted back into drive.

  He was actually going to take off without her? Fat chance of that! She grabbed the door handle and swung herself into the truck just as he peeled out into the street.

  He stopped the vehicle. “Get out.”

  She wedged her body into the plush leather seat. “No. You made an offer and I accepted it.”

  “It’s rescinded.”

  “Why?” She slammed the door shut, grabbed the seat belt, and snapped it closed. She must be losing her mind. Locking herself in a car with a man who terrified her? Brilliant move, truly brilliant. But at the same time, it felt good to stand up for herself, to grab onto hope and refuse to let go. She hadn’t had real hope in a long time, and the idea of Jarvis adding his resources to her battle was desperately appealing.

  Jarvis took his sunglasses off the glistening dash and slapped them onto his face. “Out.”

  “Why? You need my help—”

  “You were a poor choice.” The air inside the truck was getting heavy and thick, like it was a hot humid August day, but
it was May and only fifty degrees.

  She rolled down the window. “If you want help with Death, I’m your only choice.” Okay, twilight zone moment here. What was up with her trying to convince Mr. Scary Guy to help her after he’d offered and she’d said no?

  “We always have more than one choice.” His voice was low. “If you open your mind, there are always an infinity of possibilities.”

  “Not for me.” She touched his arm, and he jerked away from her, nearly crawling out the window. Wow. Talk about a one-eighty. Last time he hadn’t moved away at all. Had she developed some horrific communicable disease in the last three minutes? “You said you could help. I don’t have any other choices. You think I want to work with you and risk my boss’s ire? If I had any other options I would!”

  Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his shades, but she still shivered. His jaw was rigid, and there was a lethal energy rolling off him. With deliberate slowness, he pulled his sunglasses off his face.

  His blue eyes were now a bottomless, dangerous black. “Run.”

  Oh, three cheers and a toast to that idea. Unfortunately, despite what he claimed, a girl didn’t always have access to an unlimited plethora of fantastic choices. “I can’t. I need your help.”

  “You endanger me. And yourself.”

  His voice had an edge that would scare even the toughest badass on the planet. And in case anyone was confused about the facts, she was not tough. She was a softy who just wanted the people she loved to be safe. That was it. Nothing more. “How could I possibly endanger you?”

  He made a snarling noise and leaned toward her so quickly she didn’t have time to get away. His face was an inch from hers, so close she could smell the most delicious scent of woods and man, and she could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. The heaviness of his energy pressed at her, making her skin hot and clammy.

  “I don’t react well to you,” he gritted out. “You edge my control.”

  “What did I do?” She leaned back further, aware of his chest so close to hers. Of the width of his shoulders boxing out all the space in the front seat, trapping her, stealing her air. The door dug into her shoulders. All she had to do was pull the handle and slide away.

  But she couldn’t. She needed him. Saving her sister was more important than hiding from him. And plus… there was something about him crowding her that felt good. Which was insane, of course. Except she knew it wasn’t. He might be stalked by hell itself, he might demand that which she couldn’t afford to give, but he’d already had chances to hurt her, and he hadn’t. He’d saved her, and no woman in her right mind would fail to think that was an appealing trait in a male.

  “I don’t know why you unsettle me,” he gritted out. “But I can’t afford to go over the line right now.” He shook his head once as if to clear it. “You. Must. Leave.”

  There was torment in his eyes. Lines of pain around his mouth. Tension in the cords of his neck. And suddenly he didn’t seem like a monster anymore. He seemed like a man in agony. “Jarvis.” Before she could think about the fact that it was one of the less intelligent moves she could make, she laid her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry for your pain.”

  He sucked in his breath, and she thought he was going to jerk away, but he didn’t.

  He went still under her touch. His gaze was riveted to hers, and she saw the shock on his face.

  His skin was hot, as if he were burning up from fever. She moved her hand to his forehead. “Are you sick?”

  He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “Your hand is so cool,” he whispered, disbelief raw in his voice.

  A man who was shocked by the comfort of human touch? Well, not that she was entirely human anymore, but close enough. She put her other hand on his cheek, not afraid of him anymore. Just wanting to ease his pain, as she’d done repeatedly over the years for her sisters and mother, as they got sicker and more terrified of their future.

  Until, of course, they reached that nefarious end, turned into advertisements for GNC health food centers, and lost their ability to feel anything but an über-high. At which point, Reina’s loving support had become unwelcome and annoying.

  But Jarvis needed to be touched. She could sense it in every fiber of her soul, and her spirit yearned to give him comfort. She framed his bristly face with her hands and rested her forehead against his. The position, with his face against hers, was so intimate, a connection between lovers, between soul mates who had no boundaries between them. She felt the world go still, like all the hell chasing her faded, until all that was left was the sensation of his skin against hers, of his presence wrapping around hers, of her own reaching out for him.

  It was a moment of utter stillness, of peace, of having the most intimate connection with a tortured man who could protect her against the world. His skin was still burning up, but it seemed to be slightly less likely to give her third-degree burns. She was easing his pain, or maybe she simply wanted to believe she could give someone relief from the hell that stalked him, after a lifetime of failing to succeed to save anyone. It didn’t matter whether it was real or not. In this moment, it was a gift of peace that she would never let go. “This feels good,” she whispered. “I—”

  “Shit!” Jarvis jerked back suddenly, out of her grasp. His hand went to his sword, and before she’d even moved, he had the tip of it at her throat.

  Well, excellent. That was exactly the feel-good kind of feedback she’d been jonesing for.

  Chapter 7

  Jarvis held the sword steady, waiting for Reina to descend into the hell-o-hate and decide that he had to be castrated, disemboweled, and other fun stuff. He’d gone skin to skin with her for several minutes, when the hate had been so thick in him he’d barely been able to see. Her mind would snap within moments. He shouldn’t have touched her. He knew better.

  But when she’d laid her palm against him, he’d literally lost his mind for a minute. Her caress had felt so good, and she’d simply wiped the monster away. The relief had been instant. He’d been so shocked by the sensation he’d been unable to force himself to pull away in time.

  “What’s with the sword?” Her eyes were still a rich blue, her cheeks still a healthy pink. Her mouth hadn’t compressed into that thin line of aggression, and her hands were palm out, in a gesture of “I’m not going to hurt you, please don’t slice my head off.”

  Not that he was buying it. Some women were very, very good at hiding their intentions until the barb ice pick was already lodged in assorted soft tissues. But hell, she sure looked normal. “How do you feel?”

  “Unappreciated.”

  He lowered the tip a fraction. Made no sense, but he wasn’t feeling any aggressive vibe from her. Just that same sense of peace and warmth he’d been getting from her, tempered with a shiver of wariness. But no aggression. Was it really possible? No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. There were no miracles for men like him. “What else are you feeling? Cranky? A little violent?”

  “No, just confused. It’s not every day a man goes through as many personality changes as you have in the last ten minutes.” She cocked her head. “Is it that time of the month for you?”

  She was teasing him? Yeah, it was the desperate humor that emerged when you’re scared shitless, but not the kind of jokes chicks made right before they went for his jugular. He leaned closer and passed his hand just above her heart. Warmth beat from her skin, not coldness, no tingle of black magic. “You’re not feeling angry toward me?”

  “Angry?” Her gaze flicked down toward the blade again. “Um, no. I must admit, though, I’m not feeling quite as warm and fuzzy as I was a few minutes ago.”

  “Ah! I knew it.” He raised the blade again, feeling smug that he’d been right. But there was also an unfamiliar prick of disappointment in his gut. For that split second, he’d started to think that he could actually touch her, that she could touch him, and he’d be damned if that hadn’t sounded like a hell of a good idea. It wasn’t
something he’d ever considered, or even bothered to want, but that one second of thinking he’d found it only to realize he hadn’t… Not that it mattered. It was better that way. He liked his life just fine. “The hate will fade as soon as you get away from me,” he told her, repeating the same instructions he’d given so many women over the decades. “Just get out of the car and—”

  “Oh, so now you’re invalidating my emotions?”

  He blinked. “Invalidating your emotions? Shit, woman, I’m Hate. It’s not an emotion. I’m a fucking curse.”

  “You think I’ll stop being annoyed you pulled a sword on me if I leave? That I’m not capable of generating my own aggravation? That the only way I could dislike you is if you messed me up?”

  She should be insane by now. Attacking him. He didn’t understand why she was psychobabbling to him instead of stabbing him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m trying to tell you that my emotions don’t work that way, and you can’t simply dismiss them. You have to apologize, express your appreciation for who I am, and put the sword away. That’s how it works between adults.” She eyed him. “Or are you going to kill me? Because if you are, then I might take your advice and leave you alone.”

  “I don’t engage in first strikes against women,” he snapped before he could think to take advantage of the opportunity to lie and give her a reason to remove herself from his presence. He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure her out. Why wasn’t she going AWOL on him? “I’m merely going to keep you from attacking me.”

  She made a small noise of aggravation. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you hate me.” What part of the Guardian of Hate did she not comprehend?

  She stared at him, then burst out laughing.

  Laughing.

  He was too stunned to react. He couldn’t understand it. How could she be laughing? Violent aggression he was ready for. Delighted, whimsical laughing was beyond his ability to process. He hadn’t heard genuine, innocent, female laughter in his whole life. And it sounded good. God, it sounded good.