Touch If You Dare

by Stephanie Rowe

  ***

  “My name is in your brother’s file. I want to know why.” Reina was aware of Jarvis’s restlessness to get to his brother. It was apparent in the tension in his bunched shoulders, in the way he was gripping the doorframe with his callused hands, as if it was taking all the self-control he could muster not to haul her out of the office and down to the dungeons.

  But he managed not to kidnap her. Instead he studied her with his hyper-vigilant, blue-flecked eyes, as if trying to decide how seriously to take her concern.

  “I’m only linked to people who are about to expire, and only when I’ve been selected as their Guide,” she explained. She clicked on the code Death used for her, and it took her to her bio page. Date of hire. A list of every person she’d used death dust on, including the failed attempt with Jarvis. He knew every move she’d made during her nine years working for him. Uh oh. What if he figured out her plans for Natalie?

  Jarvis went still. “My brother is scheduled for Death?”

  “That wouldn’t make sense. Death would protect love. I want to know what’s going on and why we’re connected.” She clicked on a “conflict-of-interest” button, and then saw a list of everyone in her family who had died. Their photos. Dates and time of death. How they died. Who Guided their soul. It was like being smacked in the face with her worst nightmare, and she clenched her stomach against the sudden shock. “My family,” she whispered. Oh, God, I miss them.

  “What’s on that screen?” Jarvis was already striding back across the room. “What happened?”

  “They’re all here.” Every memory. Beating at her. She couldn’t hide. Couldn’t forget. Couldn’t pretend it hadn’t all happened. Not with the list before her, tracking all their demises.

  “Who?” Jarvis moved up beside her, then swore when he saw the monitor. “Your family?”

  She tapped the screen, her hand shaking. “My mom. Paula Fleming. I was eleven, and she went joyriding with this gang of biker werewolves. I was running after them, screaming at her to come back, and there was all this dust and this exhaust and then they were gone and—” She swallowed. “She died trying to leap across Lover’s Canyon on the leader’s bike. Apparently, he was on the other side, naked, and she was trying to get some action.” She could still remember standing over her mother’s grave, her whole body shaking with disbelief, of raw emptiness, of abandonment, of sheer unadulterated terror that the nightmare had begun. She’d been so cold, nothing had been able to get her warm, not for days and days. “I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t help her. None of them. They all left me—”

  “Hey, babe.” Jarvis crouched beside her and rubbed her back with a tenderness that tightened her heart. “I’m sorry.”

  “And that’s Arlene.” She pointed at the picture of the cheerful redhead, with all the freckles and the bright blue eyes. “It was right before she snuck off to try to break the Guinness World Record for kissing length. She picked an incubus and suffocated. I mean, come on. Why would you do that?” But she knew why. Because the deedub messed with everyone’s mind. “I tried to convince her to go for popcorn popping, but she wouldn’t. I mean, if she’d done that, maybe I would have had time to find a way to save her, but she—”

  “Listen.” Jarvis parked himself on the edge of the desk, partially blocking her view of the monitor. His face was soft in a way she’d never seen before, and his eyes were understanding. He laid his hand on her cheek, his touch warm and gentle. “I know it sucks when people you care about die. I get it. I buried a lot of friends while I was in the Den. It’s hell.”

  “It is.” She couldn’t help the sudden tears that flowed at his understanding tone and she wanted to bury herself in his chest. She wanted to stop being brave. To end the charade of pretending it was okay, that life went on.

  As if understanding her unspoken need, Jarvis held out his arms. She accepted the offer, and he enfolded her in the protective shield of his body. His chest was hard, but his heart was beating softly, pulsing with warmth and humanity. He was alive. He was holding her. She wasn’t alone, not anymore. “I was supposed to save them,” she whispered. “I didn’t. I failed them—”

  “Stop,” he snapped as he shoved up his sleeve and held out his arm. On his skin was a tattoo of a black serpent, dotted with hundred of black skulls where its scales should have been. “See the skulls?”

  She nodded numbly, her heart grieving with the weight of decades of self-recrimination and loss. “Yes, but—”

  “Each one represents a recruit I mentored while I was in the Den who died while under my protection. Two hundred and seventy-one of them.” His voice was hard. Unyielding. “I couldn’t save a single fucking one of them. And since that was my job, I did actually fail them. Your only job was to love them, and you did that.”

  Oh, God. He’d been through it almost three hundred times? Her heart cracked even more, but this time it was for him, for his pain, for his own sense of failure. She laid her hand over the serpent. She felt the weight of his own agony pressing down onto her. He understood. He really did. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that—”

  “My only reason for existence is to protect those under my care, and I screwed it up. I betrayed the very reason I am alive.” Violence rolled off him in hot waves. “No one else dies under my protection, and that includes the entire, fucking world that’ll suffer if Cam goes down and if I explode before he’s there to clean it up. Get it?”

  Her heart tightened for the pain in his steely voice. For the tautness in his muscular shoulders. For the determination in his eyes, the absolute refusal to allow himself to fail on a major scale. “But how do you know it ends now?” Because she could feel his strength rolling off him and his conviction that it wasn’t going to happen again. “How can you be so sure that you won’t fail again? And again? And again—”

  He put a finger over her lips, his touch almost more of a caress than an order of silence. “Because I won’t allow it. Now that I’m out of the Den, I’m in control of my life again, and I say who and what dies around me. I decide now.”

  She searched his face and saw he spoke the truth. “Just like that? You just believe it and that’s enough for you?”

  “Yeah.” He thumbed her cheeks. “Take all your love and turn it into power, not fear and weakness.”

  “It’s not that easy.” She gestured at the screen. “My family is on there and it’s just a matter of time until…” Natalie’s picture flashed on the screen. “Nat?” she whispered, terror stealing her voice. Little words appeared beneath it. “Soul: Natalie Fleming. ETD: Friday, May 3rd, 11:01 PM. Death by Orgasm. Guide: Not Assigned.”

  “She’s been scheduled.” She couldn’t get any air. Couldn’t make her lungs work. Couldn’t swallow.

  “Hang on there, babe.” Jarvis grabbed her hips and spun her away from the computer. He crouched between her knees, his voice urgent and demanding. “Stay with me. You’re in control here.”

  She grabbed for his shoulders, hanging on desperately. “I thought this plan would work. I really did. And I’m too late. I can’t—”

  “That’s bullshit. You can. It’s not done.” There were black flecks in his eyes, haunting him, chasing him, just like the deedub poison chasing her sister.

  “And you’re going to die, too.” Oh, God. “I can’t deal—”

  “You’re a warrior, for hell’s sake.” Frustration wrought his voice. “Warriors take a hit and keep on going—”

  “A warrior?” She stared laughing, hysterical, awful laughter. “I’m not a warrior. I’m a failure. Every time it counts, whenever it matters, I fail—”

  He swore and then yanked her close. “Tell me what to do to help you pull yourself together,” he ordered. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know!” He was right, he was right. Panicking was accomplishing nothing. She had to snap out of it, had to—

  The screen flashed again, and this time the words “Confirmed” appeared across the top of her sister’s picture. “I’m t
oo late—”

  Jarvis swore, fisted her hair, and then kissed her.

  Chapter 11

  Reina felt instant relief in her soul when Jarvis kissed her. It wasn’t simply the warmth of his lips on hers. It wasn’t just the way his fingers were tunneled through her hair. It wasn’t only the heat of his ribs as he wedged himself between her legs.

  It was the absolute, utter tenderness of his kiss.

  The kiss in the woods had been violent, hot, carnal.

  This time, his lips were soft, a light kiss on the corner of her mouth, on the bud of her upper lip, a tender nip on her lower lip.

  It wasn’t about knocking her down and dragging her onto his lap. It was a kiss of respect, of honor, of wanting, yet not ravaging, of trying to tempt her back into sanity and peace. Of trying to show her that there was good in the world, in herself, and in those around her. Of giving her something to believe in other than failure, death, and loss.

  He was giving her beauty, purity, connection, and her heart bled for more. For something to hang on to, to propel her to pull herself together one more time and believe that this time there could be a happy ending.

  He moved closer, pushing her legs apart as his torso forced between her thighs. The heat from his body was intense, hotter than a man, hotter even than Blaine, Mr. Fire Guy. His left hand was on her hip, holding her still, his right hand buried deep in her hair. She was trapped, and it felt wonderful because his strength made her feel safe. Like she wasn’t alone anymore. Like he was there for her.

  Her body shuddered, and then peace rippled over her, and hope flared in her heart. It could be different this time.

  Jarvis broke the kiss and pulled back, his black-flecked eyes searching hers. He hadn’t released his grip on her, hadn’t moved from between her legs. His eyes were smoky and dark, brimming with a sensuality that made her body tighten.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them grew, and he thumbed her lower lip. Her heart began to race, and she caught her breath. The expression on his face was pure desire, a passion that comes from the calling of his spirit, from the man, not the beast. It was a look of intimacy, of a yearning to tumble her onto the nearest set of silken sheets and spend hours luxuriating in the burning ardor between two people who’d gone to hell, and somehow pulled each other back to sanity, to humanity, who had awakened each other’s hearts.

  Then he let out his breath and dropped his hand from her face.

  Disappointment and loss surged through her, and she had to stifle a cry of protest, a request for one more moment, one more intimacy, one more caper in his arms. “Jarvis—”

  He grinned, a satisfied look flashing in his eyes. “That worked. You’re not panicking anymore.”

  “What?” He’d gifted her with that incredibly romantic and tender kiss just to calm her down, just to help her heart recover? She should be annoyed and disappointed, but she couldn’t summon the emotions. She was feeling too peaceful to get annoyed by the fact he’d kissed her just to calm her down. His kiss had eased her pain, it had given her hope, and she was going to cling to it. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my job as your partner. No thanks necessary.” He shifted his grip in her hair, sifting softly through the strands, apparently not quite ready to break the connection. “I hate to admit it, but Angelica seems to be right about women.”

  She smiled at his thoughtful tone, as if he was trying to assimilate all the information about how to work with a female. “It wasn’t just the kiss that calmed me down.”

  “What?” He cocked a brow. “I’m a fantastic kisser. The chicks all gave top marks even with the fact I poison them.”

  “You’re a great kisser?” She grinned, her heart actually light enough to dance a tiny bit, and it felt wonderful. “It wasn’t long enough for me to make that call.”

  Challenge flashed on his face, and he reached for her. “Well, let me—”

  “Oh, no. I’m not ready for that.” She pulled back, out of his reach, laughing at his grunt of aggravation. “It was the whole protector thing, not just the kiss. That was the beauty of the kiss.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “I don’t create beauty.”

  “You did. For me.” She traced her hand over his serpent, not wanting to ruin the afterglow of the experience by dissecting it. “I’m glad I’m somewhat sane now, so thanks.” Then she saw Natalie’s face on the screen, and unsettled fear rippled over her. “I can’t believe she’s been confirmed—”

  “Don’t knock yourself out about it.” Jarvis rested his elbows on her thighs, clearly very content to remain between her legs. He’d given her something to treasure, and that was still in the air, creating an intimate connection between them. “I had Guides sitting by my side at least a couple hundred times while I was in the Den, and I ditched them all. Confirmed doesn’t mean shit until your soul says hasta la vista, baby.”

  “Oh, that’s good to know.” She imagined Jarvis fighting to stay alive while a Guide loomed over him, waiting to take him. How awful. Is that what it would be like for Natalie? Strange shadowed beings waiting for her to die… “Oh! I just had an idea” She leaned past him and began typing on the computer. “I’ll make myself her Guide, and that way if it comes down to the last minute, I’ll be the one there to take her and we can do the switch. I could stall if I needed to.” She hit enter and sat back, watching her name flash next to her sister’s. “That feels so much better. Insurance policies are good.”

  Jarvis grinned. “I like that thinking. Excellent backup plan.”

  She smiled back at him. “Thanks for clearing my head. I appreciate it.” She paused. “It’s nice not to be doing this alone.”

  His smile faded and the room suddenly felt hot. Small. She became aware of him between her thighs in a way she hadn’t been before. Suddenly, the connection wasn’t about innocent reclaiming of hope. It had turned hot and dangerous. Passionate. There was a look in his eyes that made something throb low in her abdomen.

  He slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt. His palm was warm against her skin. “I’m not used to being able to touch people,” he said quietly. “I bring out the hate in everyone.”

  The look of awe on his face made something tighten in her throat. “You can touch me whenever you want. I like touching.” Oops. Her voice sounded a little too breathy. “You know,” she added, “team bonding thing. It helps you focus, right? Calms your mind.”

  He said nothing, but his hand moved across her belly, his fingers tracing her ribs. So slowly, so precisely, as if he were absorbing every moment, as if he were experiencing it for the first time in his life.

  And he probably was.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m not going to flip out. You can touch me.” She knew she cleared his head the same way he’d given her peace. It was good to have a partner with mental clarity. That was why she’d offered. Because it was smart. And, yeah, well, okay, it felt good, too. Really, really wonderful.

  “I want to know why you work for me.” He moved suddenly, grabbing her hips with both hands and yanking her against him. “Why do you ease the noise in my head? How come I don’t wreck you?” He cupped her face. “When I touch you, I can think again. The monster’s still there, but it’s not trying to fuck with me.” He leaned closer, until his lips were a breath away from hers. “And when I kiss you,” he whispered, “I feel like myself. I didn’t know what that felt like until now.”

  This time, it was going to be a real kiss. A kiss of passion. A kiss between a man and his woman. She could see it in the darkness of his eyes, in the intent on his face. A kiss that was only about following the raw, unfettered desires that made him a man.

  And yes, it was stupid, inane, and crazy, but she desperately wanted him to kiss her. Really, really kiss her. Because she knew it would make her feel alive in a way she hadn’t dared to feel since her family had started dying on her. She laid her hand on his cheek, felt the roughness of his stubble beneath her palm. “Yes,” she w
hispered. “Kiss me.”

  His grip tightened in her hair and he leaned forward—

  “What in God’s name is going on here?”

  Reina jerked back just as Death’s gleaming scythe came hurtling across the room, right for Jarvis’s head.

  ***

  “No!” Reina leapt up from the desk as Death stormed into his office. “Don’t kill him! He’s with me!”

  Jarvis whipped out his sword and intercepted the scythe a split second before it would have lopped off his head. Hooray for men whose minds had been cleared with some hot touching with a female!

  Death vaulted across the room, swept the scythe off the floor, and slammed it toward Jarvis’s heart. Jarvis blocked it again, and the two men went into looming-predator mode, muscles flexing, blades pressed against each other, each of their grips strong and secure, glaring at each other over the locked blades.

  “You are fortunate I averted my swing,” Death snapped.

  “I’m fortunate I’m faster than you are,” Jarvis replied easily, having no trouble going from passionate would-be lover to badass warrior in an instant. His muscles were bulging, his legs braced in battle stance, and his face was utterly calm. He exuded confidence, aggression, and utter control. And this man, this incredible warrior, was on her team.

  They really had a chance.

  “If I had powdered you, you’d be dead,” Death said. “The fact you’re still living is my choice, not your paltry battle skills.”

  Jarvis inclined his head. “Just because you got me once doesn’t mean it’ll work again. I’m extremely difficult to kill.”

  “I’m Death. I can kill anyone merely by thinking about it.”

  “Okay, guys!” Reina paused to punch the start button on the espresso machine, hoping to distract her boss. “Death, meet Jarvis Swain. Jarvis, this is Death. We’re all friends, so put down the weapons, please.”

  “If I relinquish my blade,” Death said calmly, “it puts me in a defenseless position against a warrior with a tainted sword. I cannot agree to such an asinine action.”