Touch If You Dare

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Jarvis, you have a serious complex. I mean, yes, holding me at sword-point isn’t endearing you to me, but why would I hate you? I’m not like that.” Her eyes were dancing with amusement, but there was a sadness in her expression that made him uncomfortable. “I’ve never met anyone worth hating. Sure wish I could manage it, because it would make my assassination attempts a lot easier if I could hate the person I was trying to kill, but it’s just not my thing.”

  She laughed again, and he felt the honesty in her voice and her tone. There wasn’t anything dark festering inside her. She really wasn’t going to the dark side, even though she’d fondled him for well over a minute.

  The woman was immune to him. He couldn’t shake her. Couldn’t contaminate her. Couldn’t tap into a dark side that she didn’t even know she carried. Holy crap.

  Cautiously, he lowered his sword, still waiting for the sudden shift that would take her from woman to a double X assailant. Not quite trusting it to be true. That there was a woman, a passionate, loyal, courageous woman he could touch. He had to be wrong. He had to be.

  But all he saw was a look of relief in her eyes as he sheathed his blade. No flare of excitement as she took advantage of the opening and leapt at him. She simply relaxed in her seat.

  He didn’t get it. She’d eased his hate, and she hadn’t been rocked by such close contact with him. Yeah, his evil twin was still swirling inside him, but her touch had taken the edge off enough to give him his control back. How? And why hadn’t she been brought down?

  If her touch could keep the monster at bay, then maybe he could afford to be in the same room as her after all. For the mission, of course. It was strictly professional. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s the deal. I’ll work with you as long as you promise not to piss me off.” Regardless of what her touch did, if she eroded his self-control by taunting him, even accidentally, they would all be screwed.

  But the feisty female was already shaking her head. “I can’t promise that, and why would I?”

  “Because if you piss me off, I can’t promise not to kill you.” And the rest of the world.

  She cocked her head with sudden understanding. “You really do have a monster inside you.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement of “oh, well, that explains everything.”

  “No monster. Just me.” As fantastic as it would be to be able to attribute his dark side to the external application of evil juice, he was hate. Why else would he be the Guardian of it? It was a match made in heaven.

  She nodded. “Okay, I’ll try not to aggravate your inner alien. I’m actually glad to know it’s not you that’s the scary one, just some demon-like predator roaming inside your body.”

  He scowled, and he felt darkness bubbling around inside him again. The beast didn’t like to be argued with now? Fantastic. It was bad enough to be the Hate Hotel. But having it become overly sensitive was just not adding fun to the game. “I am the monster.”

  “Okay, fine. Whatever you say.” She reached over and patted his cheek, and he caught her hand and pressed it to his face. Her skin was warm, her touch gentle. He’d never been touched in kindness before, and it felt amazing. He took a breath, letting the feel of her skin fill him. And just as before, the sharp edge smoothed, and he was able to take a breath, as if an anvil had been shifted off his chest.

  She smiled. “I like that.”

  He forced himself to release her hand, not daring to hold it any longer, but all his instincts were screaming at him to hang on, because this moment might never happen again. It was most likely an aberration, a heartbeat in the wind, a hiccup in his hell. “What do you like?”

  “Giving you peace.”

  Yeah, understatement of the year. He could sit there with her hand on his jowls for the rest of his life and never move again. Which was just weird. He’d never been able to sit still for anything, but Reina’s touch made something inside him quiet. Which was good. He could focus again, and that was what he needed for this mission.

  He started the engine again. “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s not going to last.” A reminder for both of them.

  She ignored his warning as he shifted into gear. “So, we have a deal? You help me?”

  “And you help me.”

  She bit her lip and looked at him. “As long as it doesn’t endanger my sister.”

  He pulled out into traffic, dodging an aggressive cab driver. “That’s fine. I don’t care about your sister.”

  Her face became shuttered, and she looked out the window. “Well, I do.”

  “Well, hell. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I had no interest in endangering her.”

  She shrugged. “I know. It’s fine.”

  But it wasn’t. He could see she was almost ready to cry. Hit a woman while she’s down, why don’t you, big guy? Hadn’t he just listened to that whole conversation with her sister? He knew what was up and he’d still made a callous remark. Crap. Hadn’t he learned a damn thing in Sensitivity Training for Warriors 231? He knew better, and he’d still blown it.

  He swore under his breath as he swerved around a double parked Mercedes. What was he supposed to do now? He’d been taught to give flowers and foot massages when he was an insensitive boor, but he was pretty sure if he offered to lube up Reina’s feet, it wouldn’t go over all that well, though the idea did hold some appeal…

  How was he supposed to team up with a female? A team was only as good as the partnership. He knew how to insult Nigel into putting the sketch book away. He knew how to threaten Blaine into healing himself from the edge of death. He was fantastic at interpreting Christian’s grunts. And he was great at sparring with any of his teammates to let off steam and get each other fired up.

  But he had no clue how to make a female better, stronger, and tougher. What was he supposed to do about the weepy look on her face? Was he supposed to punch her in the shoulder? Make a joke about getting her balls hacked off by Angelica? Give her crap about how Angelica was winning in her desire to make a bunch of blade-wielding saps out of them all?

  That’d work for the guys. But Reina—

  Jarvis looked over at her and saw that the V-neck collar of her shirt had slipped to the side, revealing the edge of a black lace bra. She was wearing a gold chain so delicate he knew he’d break it if he so much as breathed on it. From the links dangled a jade pendant that nestled softly between her breasts.

  The recently neglected part of his body that always reminded him he was a man, despite years of Flower Arranging 101 or Advanced French Braiding, twitched and then stiffened.

  Ah, hell. This partnership was never going to work.

  Because he knew only how to team up with men. Women were enemies, always the ones to distrust. He didn’t know how to work with one. Screw it. He was finding another way to access Death. He would—

  Reina looked over at him and smiled, making those rosy lips of hers curve up in a way that made him want to yank her right onto his lap and see how long he could kiss her before she hated him. “I’m glad you’re helping me,” she said with an earnestness that made him shift in his seat. “Without you, I know my sister would be dead in another day or two. With you on my team…” She gave him hopeful, tremulous smile. “For the first time, I feel like I have a legitimate chance to save her. So, thank you.”

  Bloody hell.

  Angelica had Pavloved him and the other men into being useless when a woman looked at him that way.

  He was stuck with her, wasn’t he? He looked down at his palm. Five stars were there now. Ten minutes of being around her and more stars had appeared.

  Best guess? They had less than twenty-four hours to save his brother, the world, Love, and her sister, or they were all dead.

  And not in a good way.

  ***

  Reina couldn’t help it.

  Ridiculous, she knew.

  But she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to touch Jarvis again. She’d made a difference to him, if only for a moment, and she wante
d more of it.

  Jarvis looked over his shoulder to change lanes, and she tapped the back of his wrist with her index finger. He jumped. “You need to stop that.”

  “Why? Doesn’t it feel good?” Because it felt amazing to her.

  “Yeah.” Jarvis was silent for a moment, and then he seemed to make a decision. He swung the truck off the street and peeled into the woods beside the road.

  “Where are we going?” Reina grabbed the armrest as they bounced over the rough ground, driving farther and farther away from circulation. From people. From escape. Hmm… suddenly she was remembering with vivid clarity her prior concerns about the monster within. Was she really feeling warm and snuggly enough to head off into a secluded area with the man who sported eyes of bottomless pits of hell?

  “I need to show you something.” He finally stopped the truck deep in the woods. No houses. No people. No one to come to the aid of a maiden in distress. “Come on.” Jarvis slammed the truck into park, then got out and threw the door shut behind him.

  The keys were still in the ignition. She could leave if she wanted to. Did he scare her that much? Yes, of course… and then she thought of the anguish in his face and the way his whole body had shuddered with relief when she’d laid her hand on his cheek. She recalled his tormented expression as he fought down the beast that haunted him, and she felt her heart soften.

  The answer was no. Jarvis Swain no longer terrified her. He was a man in pain, and she could help him. So she opened the door and joined him amidst the isolation of pine trees and shrubbery.

  He was standing silently, his sword at his side, surveying the surrounding forest. His brown hair was wafting slightly in the faint breeze, and his muscles were flexing in his sword arm, as if he were preparing for battle. “Hear that?”

  All she heard was the rustle of leaves, the chatter of squirrels, the creak of branches. Forest sounds. Sounds of comfort, but instead of feeling a peace, goose bumps popped up on her arms. “What am I listening for?”

  “The birds.”

  There were only a few chirps and tweets, not as many as she’d expect. And then even those quieted. The squirrels went silent, and even the trees became still, as if they’d gone into hiding, just like the men on Newbury Street. Had it been Jarvis who had driven everyone away before, not Augustus? “Is that because of you?”

  “Yep.” He raised his sword and began whipping it in a circle over his head. The air began to thicken, and she heard a loud humming.

  Her hair began to blow in a sudden, unnatural wind. The sadness in her heart began to lift for the first time in years, as if the sun had come out inside her soul. The leaves became more verdant, the flowers became brighter, and the birds began to sing, louder and louder, as if the entire world was feeling the same glorious relief she was, as if a mantle of doom that she hadn’t even noticed had suddenly been lifted.

  Then Jarvis hurled his sword. It cut through the air with a shriek, the blade glistening as it raced in and out of the shadows. It slammed into the trunk of a huge oak tree, the blade sinking almost to the hilt.

  Jarvis turned toward her, and his eyes were blue again. Not as pale as the first time she’d met him, but definitely blue. No longer black. It made him look human, handsome, and alive, and she relaxed.

  He bowed deeply. “The Guardian of Hate, at your service.”

  She frowned. “The Guardian of Hate? What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m the only thing between a world of peace and a land where everything and everybody destroys each other. I just pulled the hate out of myself and my environment, which includes you. How do you feel?”

  “Better,” she admitted. “My heart feels lighter.” Her relief at the happy feeling in her heart began to fade, replaced by the dull thump of trepidation. Why did she suspect they weren’t heading toward a blissful conclusion to this experiment?

  “I put the negative energy from you and the immediate vicinity into the sword, and then into the oak.” He nodded at the tree. “Watch. This is what the world becomes without me in it, or if I lose my ability to contain the hate.”

  A small, black circle was surrounding the blade, as if the tree had created a target around it. The bark was decomposing, and she could smell the rotted contamination stripping the tree of its vitality. “What’s happening to the tree?”

  “Just wait.”

  The circle grew larger and larger, like an insidious black plague that had taken root in the trunk. There was a high-pitched wail, as if the plant was screaming in agony, and then the leaves turned brown and shriveled. They wafted gently to the ground, crumbling as they fell. “Did you do that?”

  “Yeah. I’m poison.” The ground turned black, and then the taint began to creep across the soil toward them. Saplings shriveled, ferns crumbled, bugs took to the air with a frantic buzzing. Faster and faster it spread, gaining speed, destroying everything in its path. “Oh, shit,” he muttered. “I need to stop that.” He grabbed her around the waist and tossed her easily on top of the car. “Don’t get off, no matter what!” he ordered.

  “But—”

  He sprinted across the clearing and grabbed the sword. The moment his hands touched the handle, his whole body went rigid. Smoke began to rise from his palms.

  “Jarvis!”

  “Stay there!” He jerked the sword out of the tree and plunged it into the soil. The blade glowed, and a horrific grating noise ripped through the air. The sun seemed to disappear, dark shadows crept off the tainted soil and up his legs, like the demons of hell were sucking him into the earth. She realized he was harvesting the hate out of the earth and back into his body, and it was killing him.

  “Jarvis!” She leapt off the truck. The moment her feet hit the ground, she felt like fire was burning through the souls of her feet.

  “Stay back!” He shoved his sword deeper into the earth, his whole body trembling.

  She fought across the ground, but it was draining her dry. Her body was aching and screaming, agony was bleeding at her head. Her chest constricted until she couldn’t walk anymore. Until her body wouldn’t work. She fell to her hands and knees. “Jarvis!”

  He let out a loud battle cry and ripped his sword out of the ground. There was a keening scream, as if he’d broken the earth in half, and then all the torment vanished from her body. Immediate and complete release.

  Jarvis braced his hands on the ground, his skin mottled with black just like the soil had been. He’d stripped the hate out of the earth and put it in himself, poisoning himself to save everything else. “Jarvis!” She leapt to her feet and ran toward him.

  His eyes were demon black now, and his face was twisted with anguish. “Don’t touch me,” he rasped out. “I can’t contain it—” He caught her as she fell into him. “Reina, I’ll destroy you if I touch you—”

  “Oh, God.” He was on fire! Okay, yeah. Wrong decision to ignore his warning to stay away! She struggled to get out, but his arms closed around her, crushing her against him.

  “Holy shit,” he gasped.

  Her skin was burning, her body screaming to get away. “Let me go!”

  “I can’t.” He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. “We’re fucked.”

  And then he kissed her.

  Chapter 8

  The moment his lips touched Reina’s, Jarvis knew he had to have her. Had to take her. Not for relief. To destroy her. It was the beast talking, acting, taking her. Not him. But he didn’t care. Didn’t want to stop. Because he wanted her, too. Any way he could get her.

  She fought against him, and the monster inside him grinned. The hate would come alive inside her. It always came. It was time for hate to win, for the world to succumb to the way life should be.

  Reina suddenly stopped struggling. She flung her arms around him and began to kiss him back.

  The kiss froze Jarvis. Her lips were cool like the soothing balm of the waterfall behind the cabin he’d grown up in, and the turmoil inside him began to quiet almost immediately. He be
came aware of her hands in his hair, of her fingers rubbing gently along the back of his neck.

  He focused on her touch, on her kiss, on the sensation of her lips moving against his, using her existence as a map to find his way back to sanity, to control. He concentrated on the feel of her breasts pressed up against his chest. On how cool her body felt against his. He breathed in the taste of her.

  She felt amazing. The way she was kissing him back: no desperation, no anger, just pure, unabashed passion. No one had ever kissed him like that, not for this long. It always turned dark and hateful within seconds. But her kiss was still untainted, still clean, and it felt magnificent. She was chasing the monster away. As he began to find his way back, as he reclaimed control of his body, he softened his grip on her hair and cupped her head, angling for better access, kissing her now because he wanted to, because it felt like someone had wrapped him up in angels and music.

  Her lips parted beneath his, and he groaned as he brushed the tip of his tongue over hers. She tasted like strawberries and woman, like the warm sunshine when it heated him after a grueling torture session. He tightened his grip on her, and then she made a small noise of discomfort.

  He immediately pulled back and searched her face. Regret pulsed through, guilt that he had risked her by kissing her for so long. There had to be limits to what she could withstand from him. “How are you?”

  Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were bright blue. Not murky and tormented. Her ponytail was askew, and stray locks dangled, making her look like a woman who’d been thoroughly kissed, not a crazy killer chick about to attack.

  She blew a tangled tendril of hair away from her face. “There’s a lot of different ways to answer that question, actually. What exactly are you referring to?”

  He stroked her face, unable to believe her cheeky tone, the sparkle in her eye. She was a mirage, an illusion he’d created out of his own insanity. “How do you not hate me right now?”