I spared a glance toward Chance only to find that he had melted back into the crowd and was talking to someone.
Zane needed no prompting to continue and was still speaking when my gaze returned to his. “According to the story circulating through the bars, the Hammer went out at the witching hour.”
At my blank look, he rolled his eyes. I know. My best friend is a witch. Mia however, does not need a specific hour to be witchy, so I had to get the hour that was considered witchy so that I could follow his timeline. Turned out the witching hour was three thirty in the morning. How would anyone know that?
I dug my fingers into my scalp at the temples. Never noon. Nothing scary or monstrous or remotely related to the boogieman ever happened at noon. It happened at always some god-awful time at night. I fought off the urge to stomp my foot in frustration and glanced at my phone to see the time. Someone hit my elbow and sent my cell skittering across the bar floor.
“I’ll get it.” Zane shuffled off helpfully.
I turned to see who had knocked it out of my hand. They hit me again. This time full bodied and sent me sprawling over the pool table. I tried to catch myself, but my body shot pool balls flying. I landed with a thuw-ump.
My hand landed on the eight ball, and I watched it soar into the air and come down. Pool balls are heavy. It came down in almost slow motion. With nearly beautiful accuracy, it dropped Zane who cheerfully held up my cell phone. He crumpled almost comically to the ground. My cell again skittered across the floor of the bar.
This event would have drawn the attention of everyone in the bar had it not been for the fact that the person who had hit me was in a fight. I glanced over and realized the fight that had started my phone’s journey centered on one person…Chance?
Some drunken guy kept swinging a pool cue at him. Chance grinned like a loon. He stood very still and waved his arms in a gesture that said to one and all, What, me? I am just standing here. Then, as the stick swung to crack that smiling, genial face, Chance vanished. He reappeared, unharmed. Stuck his hand out and said, quite cheerfully, “Twenty bucks.”
The drunken man staggered back confused. “Double or nothing.”
Chance ignored the chaos that his game caused elsewhere. People dodged the drunken man’s missed shots. Most didn’t duck fast enough. I had been hit by one of those people. I got off the pool table and apologized to the players whose game I had destroyed.
Ironically, Chance, who was by far more annoying than I could ever be, did not bother anyone. Whereas I, who had my butt knocked on a pool table, which by the way was entirely not my fault, caused the real bar fight.
A bimbo in a tight red halter-top came over, shoved me back on the pool table, and yelled in my face with breath that smelled like an ashtray, “Seventy-five cents!”
“What?” I slipped on another ball and tried to get up. I tried hard to keep my feet off the table. Shoes are hell on pool tables. Butts aren’t great either, I don’t care how many pornos say otherwise.
“You owe us seventy-five cents! You messed up our game!”
“By what? Getting thrown on it?” Normally, I would have probably just given her a dollar and told her where to shove the last quarter, but really, poor Zane had taken one of those balls to the head. Yell at Chance not me. Possible soul mate or not, I was so not taking the heat for falling.
“You trashed it, you need to pay for it, or I am going to kick your skinny, trashy butt from here to the lake!”
I got off the pool table again and she shoved me back. Okay, that was twice. I gritted my teeth. I tried to glare at Chance, but he kept playing with his drunken man. An emo girl cooed over Zane, and the other members of the Terrible-Trio had disappeared. I had no one else to back me up. I was at a loss. I got off the pool table and I shoved my attacker.
Unfortunately, she was drunk and unstable on her heels. When I pushed her, even though I hadn’t done it hard, she hit someone else. That someone else then, in turn, spilled his drink on someone else.
The entire bar went nuts.
Drinks spilled. Pool cues busted over heads. People yelled and I scrabbled on the floor with a drunken woman until Chance scooped me up and carried me out.
I chewed him out as he carried me over his shoulder. I ranted and thrashed until he dropped me to my feet outside the bar. I was still yelling when he tilted my face back and kissed me.
I slapped him.
He laughed at me. “Do you really think you’re as nice as you think you are?”
“Yes!” I spit the words at him.
“And you fought why?”
“It was your fault!”
“Really? I was playing around while you played detective. You were rolling around on the floor of a bar with a human for what?”
“She wanted seventy-five cents!” I bit my lip. “Well, there was more to it than that!”
His rich laughter rolled over me. He bent at the waist, he was laughing so hard, and I could see down the hill past him. I smacked his back and shook my head. Jerk.
But then down the hill over his shoulder, I saw something that made me clutch at him. I know, me, clutch at Chance? Who’d have guessed? I held onto his side, and his laughter faded as he searched the night to see what had stilled me.
Dazzling lights lit the Harbor, like, well, the Harbor at Christmastime. Besides the usual streetlamps, fairy lights hung in rainbow hues from nearly every shop window. Bulbs twinkled in wreaths, from strings on eaves, and about every other creative place. The snow made them brighter somehow.
Illuminated at the bottom of the hill, stood my boyfriend and my friend.
“It’s Vance.” With hair flowing like liquid night against a backdrop of creamy snow, I recognized him easily, even at a distance. His movements held the smooth grace of a panther or some other big cat on the prowl. The holiday lights illuminated and framed his strength and beauty. The scene looked like some play that we had snuck in on during the third act.
Julia came from the other direction, her red hair glowing like a beacon. She had first caught my eye. Since Chance and I had come out the back of Brennan’s and stood at the top of the hill, darkness shrouded us. I pulled him farther into shadows, just in case.
Chance took my arm and slid me against his side. The move seemed smooth and natural. I tucked the thought aside, and I kept my eyes on the street below. I couldn’t decide what bothered me about the scene unfolding, they hadn’t even noticed each other yet, but I was fascinated. I held onto Chance’s arm and my breath quickened, some weird sense of impending doom making my heart race and my hands shake. “Nothing’s wrong.” Although I had whispered the words, my heart raced faster, making me a liar, and I didn’t shift from his side. We stayed in the shadows watching.
He tucked me tighter against him and still said nothing.
I wasn’t sure why I had whispered or why I hid. It’s not like we were going to see anything, I knew that...
Julia walked toward Vance and his dark head bowed down. Still, neither seemed to notice the other. Then suddenly…a light sprang between them. They both slammed to a stop. Julia literally stumbled. Vance, more graceful, did not stumble, but he tilted his head. Neither seemed to particularly notice the light, but from above, I both noticed and recognized it. Without really thinking about it, I reached to Chance and he took my hand.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but I could hear him as if he had spoken in my mind.
“It’s not what you think.” But I clutched his hand.
The two on the street stood still. Neither looked up but the light trembled between them, a shimmering new connection. Julia moved her hand back and forth, and I remembered doing something similar the first time it had appeared between Chance and me.
Was this the first time she had seen it, then?
I trembled in the circle of Chance’s arms. “Are you doing it?”
“No.” His voice stayed calm, not accusing, not cruel. Lacking its usual Chance-ness. Almost kind, even, and hardly sounding like
himself at all.
“It’s not what you think. It’s not that.” I was repeating myself and a bit of a wobble trembled in my tone. He wasn’t arguing, but I needed him to believe me. I needed to believe me.
Julia’s pale face tilted up. Lamp light and distance washed away recognizable color and expression from her lovely features.
At nearly the same moment, Vance looked up. Unlike Chance and me when the cord first appeared, they rushed toward each other. I nearly ran down the hill as soon as I detected them starting to move. I don’t know if I meant to stop them, or yell, or what I meant to do because Chance pinned me to the brick wall behind us.
“No.” He glared at me with those glass green alien eyes of his. “They have no more control over it than you do.”
“We control it.” I kicked him. It wasn’t a terribly effective kick. He pressed too close. He always pushed too damned close.
Chance’s breath and his scent, that summer storm scent, closed in as he attempted to block the sight at the bottom of the hill from me. But it was all I could see. Vance held my friend. He kissed her. My own betrayal rang in my head, shouting that this was only what I deserved.
“We control it barely.”
I could no more escape Chance’s words as they battered me into the brick than I could escape his hold.
“We control it part of the time. We are neither of us human, as I remind you all of the time, and never were. We are not, and have never been, mortal, we’re stronger and more than that. He was mortal. He was human. She is human. You are not. I am not. You cannot compare what we do to what they are capable of.”
I shoved at him, but I would have had equal success shoving the brick wall. “Move.” Now I whispered. I did not want them to look up the hill and see me. To know I’d seen, to see me with him… “Let me go.”
“Not until you’re under control.” He sounded so damned calm, I wanted to slap him.
“Let me go.” I tried to sound reasonable.
The two broke apart. Vance backed away from her. The silver cord shattered, and they did not appear happy even from a distance.
Chance bent his head to touch mine, his forehead resting against my temple. “You don’t pick your soul.” His voice barely carried over the snow. Somehow, I felt branded by the words. “You have to have faith that it’s right.”
“She had to know.” My voice rang cold and cruel and all the things his usually was.
“No more than we did.”
“Then he did.” This time I could hear accusation in my own tone. I didn’t want to be right, but part of me worried I had to be.
“I don’t think he did.”
“You brought me out here on purpose.” I dragged a hand through my hair, wishing I could slap the thoughts that whirled around like angry bees through my head.
“No.” Chance appeared stunned. “I don’t want to hurt you. Not like that. I don’t like him, but I will win fairly. I didn’t know.”
I shoved at him again and searched down the hill. He moved when I shoved and gave me my space. No one was there. I stared down at my feet and then back at him. For once, he did not glare back at me. He looked away.
I stood there breathing the cold, cold air. The kind of air that hurt to inhale, that froze the snot in the nose. The kind that made icy knives dive into the chest with each breath, making lungs bleed. Or perhaps only my heart bled.
I stood there. Alone. Then I moved to him. I wrapped my arms around Chance and my head rested under his chin. His arms circled me after a moment. He sighed and held me tight. His hands clutched at me, and I sensed a throb in the line. It pulsed around me, a living thing, a lifeline that kept me from being so alone.
“Pause the rules.” I whispered the plea, unable to say it out loud.
“Why?” He sounded tired.
Under other circumstances, I might have been amused that I had managed to wear out Mr. Endless Energy. Tonight I felt battered, the win less of a success than proof we’d both been through hell and back lately. “If they can’t fight it…maybe I shouldn’t have to either.”
He sighed. “I’m not your revenge.” He began to pull away.
For once, I held onto Chance and really looked at him. “No, not that.” It wasn’t that. He met my gaze as if trying to follow me. “It’s more that, well, maybe you have a point. I don’t know really. I never tried not to fight.”
He studied me. Holding himself still and weighing my words. Finally, he wove his fingers into mine again and met my gaze. His other hand traced, with fingers long and strong, along my jaw line.
I shivered.
“You call me a monster for switching sides.” A smirk flitted across his face like a shadow across the moon. His expression was more Chance now than it had been a moment before.
I tried to shove away. “I changed my mind.”
He yanked me to my toes so we were eye to eye in a swift harsh move. “Didn’t you say you weren’t going to fight?”
His question threw me, but I met his gaze squarely. I breathed out in one long gust. He continued to hold me by the shoulders. Not in a romantic pose at all, more like one would hold someone they yelled at, but his voice hadn’t risen, not even a little. I worked to still my features, to settle my emotions and release all fight from my muscles. We had paused the rules. What would happen if I gave myself over to this? Even for a moment?
He closed the remaining distance but, instead of a kiss, he pressed his forehead to mine and let go of my shoulders. Dropping me abruptly back to my feet, he then ran those long clever fingers down my arms. He brushed his face against mine so our breath mingled. My pulse sped. Step by step, he backed me up until I again felt the brick at my back. Nose to nose. Then his hands pushed my hips hard into the wall. The breath whooshed out of me, and he bit gently at my jaw. Our eyes remained locked.
I whispered his name. My eyelids fluttered closed. “What are you doing?”
“What I want.” His voice rumbled with seduction. It slithered over my skin and I licked my dry lips, heart racing in response. “You said you wouldn’t fight me. Did you change your mind, Janie?”
I made a sound in my throat. It came out a bit like a gurgle. His fingers slid under my shirt. They wandered up my stomach and his lips traced my neck. I tried to turn my head to capture them, but he moved to my ear. “I want—” I couldn’t get anything more out than that. Maybe that was the whole thought. I wanted.
“Mm-hmm?”
“Chance.”
He continued to stay out of reach. His fingers found one nipple and toyed with it. It pebbled hard at his touch, and a small satisfied growl rumbled out of him.
I shifted, wanting more.
His power grazed mine.
I tried hard to remain passive, to not fight him as I had promised. “Chance.” I nearly moaned, and I seriously hated the edge of desperation that deepened my voice.
“By the way, Janie?” His face finally came back into my view. His eyes blazed, green fire and fury. “I like you better fighting.” His mouth finally closed over mine. He pushed me up and against the wall and wrapped me in that summer storm.
Heat and light and power coursed down my throat, and his tongue swept in my mouth with it all. I dug my fingers into his scalp and felt his answer in my own. He hiked me higher so that his body pressed against mine. I pulled from his mouth to gasp.
His gaze met mine. “Is this what you wanted?” Again, he kissed me and his power met mine in a blast of white. If sensation had sound, this would have been a scream of power.
I met him kiss for kiss. I tried to bury myself in the moment, in what we were. I did not even feel the tear slide down my cheek until his thumb wiped it away.
He broke from me and let me slip down the wall. He backed up and, when he looked at me, he seemed…hurt.
Chance, the indomitable, Chance the bad guy hurt.
“I fell for it.” I wasn’t sure if he spoke to me or just vented. “Proof that age is not enough to protect a man from a woman, I gu
ess. Even I can hear what I want to, it would appear. I will repeat myself, Janie. I will repeat myself because I can feel you’re hurting.” He leaned close enough that we were eye to eye.
I said nothing. I just breathed, fast and hard, and ached with the unfulfilled need of him.
“I am not some tool for you to use. I can be hurt, too. You will not use me to hurt him. You will not use me to make yourself feel better if he hurts you. What stands between us is between us and has nothing to do with whatever—” He paused to wave an arm at the hill for emphasis, as if Vance would appear there at any given moment. “Whatever thing you have going on for the vampire. I don’t even know what I am talking about anymore.” He shoved a hand into his hair.
I reached toward him.
He stared at the offered hand. His angry expression burned then it crumpled around the edges. He took my hand. “We are going to be the worst soul mates in history.” He tugged me close and held me under the streetlights. And for about the tenth time since he had met me, he simply held me while I cried…exactly what I had needed to begin with.
When I had finally snuffled my last sniffle, I looked up at him. He remained the bad guy. I needed him to stay the bad guy.
He stared right back at me. He knew he was the bad guy.
“Well, if soul mate means you know when to back off and let me cry, you are getting better at that part, anyway.”
He sighed and disappeared.
CHAPTER Eight
I stood in the cold for a few minutes holding my arms to my sides. If the Hammer came out, I wasn’t altogether sure I had it in me to deal with him. I felt sort of glad I hadn’t found him yet. It seemed like everything I thought I knew, I didn’t understand after all, and everyone I thought I understood, no longer acted in character…even me.
I wanted to go home, but I wasn’t even sure where home was anymore. I crunched my way through the still falling snow back to Odd Stuff. I let myself in with my key, still shiny and new, and still hanging on a key ring with a huge chunk of quartz. I rubbed the quartz. It had no mystical meaning to me. I wondered what wondrous things it meant to Mia, and I wondered if she felt any better.
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