“Then let’s go.” Mari broke into a hard sprint, moving with crazy speed across the damp grass despite the stilettos and tight skirt. Kudos to the brilliant witch who’d trained her to be girly but badass at the same time. Oh, wait, that was her. Go, Angie!
“My car’s up ahead,” Mari said. “I pay a bribe to the meter maids not to ticket it so I can have easy access.”
Angelica raised her brows at the shiny red number. “You can’t afford a Ferrari on what I pay you.”
Mari held up a key chain and the car chirped. “You don’t pay me anything.”
“My point exactly—”
“Angelica!” Napoleon tumbled into sight in the middle of the Common.
Sudden fear shot through Angelica. “My spell’s that weak? It didn’t block him for even a minute.” By the hairiest five o’clock shadow, even after three hundred years, she was no match for her ex-husband? That was an ego-killer for sure.
He jumped to his feet, showing all his naked glory. “Stop,” he commanded.
Three centuries of independence vanished, and Angelica halted in her tracks.
“Keep going!” Mari yanked open the car door. “He’s not going to kill you if you run. He wants your body and your smut monster.”
Angelica looked over at Mari, at the dear girl who was becoming so deadly. If she gave in to Napoleon, every darling in her care would suffer. She owed it to them to be strong. To take him on. She stepped away from the overpriced hotrod and raised her hand. “I don’t have much, but maybe I can slow him down—”
“No.” Mari knocked her arm aside. “The place is teeming with Otherworld police. No offensive black magic is allowed within one hundred yards of humans in public areas. They’ll grab you.”
Angelica hesitated as Napoleon began a slow, purposeful stride across the grass toward them, his manly parts jiggling around. No one seemed to notice the naked man invasion, and she realized he was glamouring to hide himself. A spell he’d probably perfected during his numerous assassin trips.
Relief soared through her. How lucky for him that nullifying a glamour spell was one of the few non-torture related skills she’d acquired to keep her girls and boys from hiding when they heard her coming. No nookie went unnoticed in her house.
She grinned. “I’ve got this, Mari. Trust me.” Heat spiraled in her hand, black wisps filled the air, and then she flung the heart-shaped smoke bomb at him.
Napoleon didn’t even bother to break stride; he just held up his palm to block it. Then she flicked her fingers at her own clothes, and they vanished (well, they appeared to vanish. He hadn’t earned the right to really see her boobies).
Naked girl moment.
Nappy’s eyes widened, his palm fell to his side, and her magic hit him splat in the face. His spell faded instantly, and a loud scream filled the air as people began to point at the well-endowed naked man running around the Boston Common with a boner.
Less than a second later, he was buried under a mound of jean-clad men who were all seething with magic. Angelica had figured the cops would go for a naked Nappy before they’d grab her for her spell.
The human world was funny that way.
Angelica grinned as she turned back to the car. “Point for the girls.”
Mari was already in the driver’s seat, her arms draped over the open window as she watched the scene. “You know, it never fails to amaze me exactly how much power we have over men. A fake breast sighting, and he forgot to block your spell?” She revved the engine as Angelica slipped inside. “Defeating men is child’s play.”
Angelica raised her brows as Nappy threw off the crowd and stood up, fully clothed again. “Is it?”
Mari glanced over at him. “It’s not going to work a second time, is it?”
Angelica settled back in her seat as her young apprentice floored the gas pedal and the car sped away. “No, it’s not.”
Mari checked her rearview mirror. “How long until he catches up with us?”
“Not long enough.”
“So, where to?”
Angelica pulled out two small yellow tulips, ones that had been carefully nurtured in her Garden of Delicacy, hidden by a careful spell amid a bed of thousands of other tulips. One of the precious flora in her lap had been blooming for three hundred years, one for just under three decades.
They were both still in their dirt, rooted. Waiting for the time when they were needed.
She picked up the older tulip. As multiple orgasms were her witness, she never thought she’d cut that one.
“What’s that?”
“My map to my precious darlings.” Angelica took out a pair of golden scissors and carefully cut the ancient flower.
She held the blossom in her palm. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the petals began to vibrate. It began to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster, then a high-pitched ringing filled the air.
And then it stopped. Pointing to the right. “Smutty’s in that direction.”
Mari took a hard right through an alley. “And what’s the other one for?”
“Trinity Harpswell.” And then Angelica cut its stalk.
***
Okay, so maybe allowing Blaine to have his wonderful, amazing, and really sweet way with her hadn’t been the smartest decision… but Trinity was definitely not taking it back.
She awoke to the bright light of morning to find Blaine sprawled on top of her, his face was buried in her neck, and his body was pinning her to the roof deck. The sky was gorgeous blue and cloudless, and his weight was comforting and heavy.
She sighed with contentment and trailed her nails lightly over his well-muscled back.
He jerked and stiffened.
“Sorry. Did I tickle you?” She let her fingers drift across his shoulder, and his tension immediately eased.
“No. Just startled me. Forgot where I was for a sec.” He buried his face deeper in the curve of her shoulder, and his breath was warm against her skin.
How perfect was this moment? So peaceful. This was what life could be like if she survived the deadline. Nestled in the arms of a really good man, who cherished her and—
She began to feel hot.
The sun began to get brighter.
“Oh, no.” She pounded on his shoulders. “Get off! Get off!”
“In a sec.” He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled more tightly against her. “Still recovering.”
This felt way too good. Just how she wanted to be with a man—
A blinking light began to form behind him. A prism. “Blaine! Look!”
Blaine finally lifted his head, and he swore when he saw the glittering light. “Is that for me?” But he didn’t so much as shift his weight to let her get out from under him.
“I told you not to be so nice to me.” The prism got brighter. It was almost the shape of a person now. Her fingernails dug into his skin. “You have to make me hate you. Right now.”
“After you show me how to kill the witch,” he said conversationally, still watching the emerging hologram, “I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh, come on! Do you really think I’m going to buy that?” She writhed beneath him, frantically trying to get free. “I have to get out of here—”
He caught her wrists and looked directly into her eyes. “I said, I’m going to kill you when you stop being useful to me. I swear it to you.” His voice was quiet. Unemotional.
She saw the utter seriousness in his expression. It was almost enough to make her believe him. But not quite. It made no sense. “Why on earth would you kill me?”
“Because you’re the witch’s Chosen.”
“As if that means anything to me.” The figure took shape behind him. It was her. Again. “Oh, come on, not another suicide mission—”
“Listen to me.” Blaine framed her face with his hands and moved so he blocked her view of the soon-to-be assassin. “Angelica altered your physical being so if she’s killed, her soul will leave her body and jump to yours. Second life
for her. Adios to you.”
She went still, too stunned to continue struggling. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
He shook his head. “The only way to stop Angelica is to eliminate her escape route.” He gave her a grim look. “And that’s you.”
She stared at him, a sinking feeling in her heart. She already knew Blaine well enough to know what he had to choose. “And you’ll do it. To save Christian.”
He nodded, and she saw the firm resolution in his eyes. “I made a promise to him, and I won’t leave him behind to die.”
She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, trying to regroup. “Okay, so let me get this straight. After making love to me and being so nice that I almost fell in love with you, you’re going to use me, and then murder me?”
He grimaced. “Not my first choice on how it all could have played out, but yeah.”
Wow. Nothing like a hot poker to a girl’s heart to make the love fade fast. “You’re a bastard.” She hit his shoulders again, and this time it wasn’t out of panic. It was anger, and it felt good. “You just lost the right to be naked with me.”
The oversized lout didn’t even budge. “Your twin’s hitting the road.”
Trinity looked past his shoulder and saw that the prism was fading. The sun was fading to a normal brightness. Her skin was cooling off. “Oh, God.” She sagged back against the makeshift bed, suddenly too exhausted to fight anymore. “She’s gone.”
“Yeah.” He trailed his fingers over her forehead, tracing the lines of her face. “See? Told you not to worry about me.”
She batted his hand away, even though a part of her wanted to bask in the sensation. Wait a sec. “Did you tell me that only to stop me from going Jack the Ripper on you?”
He raised one eyebrow. “It’s the truth.”
But as he said it, she saw a deep regret in his eyes, and she knew that yes, it was true, but he was big-time tortured about it.
Well. How about them apples? On one level, his anguish proved he was the quality man she’d suspected, but at the same time, he was a complete bastard, you know, for the whole make-love-kill-you thing, no matter what his reason. Which meant she could let herself like him, admire him for his loyalty to his friend, but the truth would keep her affections from ever morphing into the oh-so-dangerous love. She smiled. “You’re perfect.”
He grinned and kissed her, and his lips were so warm and tempting that she almost forgot that she was fast developing a strong hate for him. “No,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’m not. I admire you on so many levels, and making love to you is something I’ll never forget as long as I live, but ending the witch’s life is more important than saving yours.”
“That was so sweet, and awful at the same time.” Trinity pulled back and traced her index finger over his whiskered jaw. “What I meant was that you’re perfect for me.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Because I’m going to kill you?”
“Yes!” She hugged him. “That’s just the lowest, most despicable thing a man could do to me.” She pulled back, elation dancing in her heart, along with complete misery, betrayal, and devastation, of course. Because she really had almost fallen in love with him, and to have him rip that out from under her… yeah… completely sucked. “It’s fantastic.”
He raised the other eyebrow, and he looked more than a little wary. “Most chicks wouldn’t be quite so happy about it.”
“Most women aren’t cursed.” Trinity planted an excited kiss on him. Yes, there was this really awful element to the whole scenario, a kind of macabre disbelief that a man she was almost in love with could be so brutal, but after a lifetime of facing down the curse, the knowledge that she didn’t need to worry about Blaine being Love Potion Number Five, was just… well… it was such an incredible relief. Liberating. “This is great! Why didn’t you tell me this before?” She shoved him off her, and this time he granted her freedom.
“Well, I figured that admitting it straight up might make you reluctant to help me.” He propped himself up on his elbow, his brows knitted in concern, as if he was waiting for her to suddenly whirl on him and chop off his head.
“You lied to me to get me to help you?” She jumped up and began pulling her jeans back on. “Priceless. That move’s incredibly low.” She grinned. “You don’t even have to say anything else offensive for as long we’re together. This whole thing is going to get you a ton of mileage.” She held her arms over her head. “I can’t even tell you how good this feels! No black widow! Whoohoo!”
She’d never felt so safe, so liberated in her life! “We can work together and I don’t need to worry that I’m going to love you, no matter how many heart wrenching stories you tell me that make me want to hug you until all your pain goes away.”
Blaine eyed her, and his face was masked. “You really were in danger of loving me?”
She felt her cheeks flood at his intense expression. Gah, so not wanting to admit love to a man who clearly didn’t even like her enough to refrain from killing her. “Well, you know, as much as I can love, being as completely screwed up as I am.” How embarrassing. Like it wasn’t bad enough to start to fall in love with the wrong guy, but to have a glowing apparition of murder appear every time she had the thought was just too embarrassing. It was like this neon statement of “I love you” when in reality, she would so not be confessing love.
It was a total screwup to the normal evolution of a relationship in which both parties hid all their true feelings and built a relationship based on lies and superficiality and saved true confessions until the point at which they were both too entrenched in the fake relationship to run away when they actually got to know the real person.
Damn the curse for depriving her of the chance to build a relationship based on lying about true emotions!
She grabbed her bra and fastened it around her ribs. “Definitely, we kill the monster first, since I’m going to have to be on guard after the witch is dead, you know?”
Blaine narrowed his eyes, and his face became suspicious.
“What’s that look for?” Trinity snorted. “After that confession, you can’t possibly think we’re going to kill the evil DNA splicer first, do you? No chance—”
“Is your tulip bothering you?” He sat up, his gaze fixed below her neck, and not on her breasts. “You’re scratching it.”
“My tulip?” Trinity realized that she was rubbing her nails across the birthmark on her collarbone. The minute she started thinking about it, it began to burn. Big-time. “Yeah, it is.” She rubbed it harder. “It hurts.”
Blaine jumped to his feet. He strode across the roof deck. “It’s glowing. Like the sun’s rising in your collarbone.” His voice was urgent, his expression serious.
“It is?” Trinity tried to rub it again, but Blaine caught her hand.
He peered at her skin. “That’s a homing beacon. Angelica must have triggered it so she could find you.” He set his palm over it, drawing some of the heat out of it and easing the discomfort. “Your respite’s over, babe. It’s time for the Chosen to go home.”
Trinity recalled how Blaine had been yanked away from his family, and she clutched his hand. “She’s coming to kidnap me?”
“No.” He scanned the skyline. “She’s coming to harvest you.”
“What?” She had no clue what he meant, but it didn’t sound like a good thing.
Blaine jogged over to his clothes. “You’re an incubator for the curse, and she’s planning to harvest you when it ripens.” He yanked on his jeans, moving fast. “It appears she’s not leaving kill number five to chance.”
“That’s really not what I wanted to hear right now.” Trinity ran across the roof and grabbed her shirt from the heating vent, where Blaine had apparently tossed it. Nearly twenty yards. Gotta love a man so caught in the throes of heat that he turned into a fabric launcher. “Can you burn the mark out of me?”
“I don’t know.” Blaine hurried over and pressed his palm to her flower. Heat
seared her skin and she bit her teeth against the pain. It got more intense, then Blaine shook his head and dropped his hand. The pain eased instantly. “Can’t. It’s too entrenched. You’d never survive my flames.”
“Try again.” She grabbed his wrist and set it back on her chest. “I’d rather die by your fire than by hers.”
He cupped her chin, his fingers light. He searched her gaze, and his eyes were hooded with regret. “My dear, that’s exactly what you’re going to get, but don’t wish for it too soon.”
Her chest tightened. “I won’t let you kill me.”
He said nothing. He just bent his head and kissed her.
The kiss was short, and its tenderness nearly brought tears to her eyes. He thumbed her cheek. “Just so you know, I—”
He stopped.
Her heart began to race at the softness of his expression. True love declaration? That would go so far to easing the pain of his treachery. “You what?”
He gritted his jaw and shook his head. “Nothing.” He stepped away, grabbed her shoes, and handed them to her.
Fantastic. She’d wanted an I’ll Love You Forever, My Darling moment, and she’d gotten footwear. Sigh.
“We need to keep moving to stay ahead of Angelica.” He yanked on his boots. “Things just got serious.”
“Oh, because it’s been all relaxed and fun up until now.” She pulled her shoes on, tugged her shirt over her head, and then a faint odor wafted toward her. “It smells like sewer.”
“Not a lot of sewer on the twenty-fifth floor.” Blaine finished locking down his laces. “We need to regroup with the team and figure out a plan. Now that the witch is tracking you, I don’t think we’ve got much time.”
“Great. Because I wasn’t stressed enough before.” The odor grew stronger, and she frowned, trying to place it. “What does that smell like?”
Blaine sniffed. “Rotten bananas.” He took her arm. “So we’re going to head back down to my bike and—”
“Rotten bananas?” Sweet mother Mary! “Augustus?” She whirled around, searching the night sky. “I cannot believe the number of personal challenges this week is giving me.”
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