Kiss at Your Own Risk

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Augustus? Really?” Blaine grinned, and then his smile faded. “Damn. It’ll take me too long to figure out how to kill him. I’ll have to save him for later.” Blaine pulled her up against him. “Let’s jet. Hang tight.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She searched the sky for her stalker. Should she be looking on the roads? “I don’t even know how he travels.” Heat began to build beneath their feet, and she knew Blaine was about to detonate a fireball, like he’d done before.

  But this one felt way more powerful than any of the others. So not feeling the love for being accidentally incinerated right now.

  “I’d guess Augustus drives a pink chariot pulled by a dozen matching horses.” Energy crackled beneath them.

  Trinity snorted. “Oh, come on. He probably drives a black, shrouded hearse with dead bodies tied to the bumper—” A rose-colored horse-drawn carriage rounded the corner of the top floor of the John Hancock building, and it was closing fast. The Augustus express? “Ah… looks like you were right—”

  A gnarled hand shot out the window and flicked a pink star in her direction. “Oh, man—”

  Blaine’s sudden explosion catapulted them through the night sky like a shooting star that had just downed a couple of gallons of double espresso, torpedoing them away from Augustus. The streets of Boston were rushing past, way too far below. “Um, Blaine?”

  He pulled her up against his chest. “I still need you. No chance I’m letting you die yet.”

  Ah, right. His personal agenda. She took a breath, knowing she could trust him to make sure she didn’t plummet to a splattery death. She could rely on Blaine, not just to keep her alive, but to keep the spider girl at bay by being gentlemanly enough to periodically remind her of his contemptible plan.

  He was a gift, a wonderful special treasure, and she so appreciated him. The ache in her heart that this man was planning to murder her? It hurt, yeah, but it was no match for the peace he gave her. Her honeymoon with Blaine would soon be over, so she was just going to enjoy the freedom he gave her for now, and deal with the rest when it was time.

  She peeked over his shoulder and saw Augustus had fallen hopelessly behind. He pulled his beautiful copper-colored team to a halt and saluted Trinity.

  He was conceding the skirmish, but not the war.

  With Augustus nullified for the moment, they began to descend, and Trinity looked down to see they were nearing the bar where Blaine had left his motorcycle. The alley was still covered with crushed cockroach remnants, and there were scorch marks on the ground from the battle. The stain from Jarvis’s blood when he’d gotten sucker punched was like a giant death stain on the ground.

  As Blaine set them in front of the bar, next to his bike, she caught a whiff of charred bug. The whole scene was a vivid reminder of what truly mattered: saving her father’s life without sacrificing her soul, and doing it while avoiding an overly ambitious witch, a pissed-off assassin, a homicidal lover, and her own curse.

  Blaine slung his leg over the seat, jammed the ignition, and the bike roared to life. He jerked his head at her as he grabbed the handlebars.

  She didn’t hesitate. She just leapt on behind him and hunkered tightly against him as he peeled out.

  They were out of time, and they still had no answers.

  Chapter 20

  Hello dream home!

  Trinity halted in the archway of the double French doors that brooked the threshold to Blaine’s condo. She hadn’t spent a great deal of time wondering what being thunderstruck would feel like, but she was pretty sure she knew now.

  Felt kinda like someone had taken a rainbow and slammed her upside the head with it. As if that cleared things up.

  Because yeah… the open floor plan of Blaine’s place exuded the passion, the energy, the unbridled emotion she craved so badly. His place was alive in exactly the way she burned for her own place to be. It was the home she wanted to wake up in every single day.

  Oriental carpets with the deepest crimson reds covered the floors. Wild and bright modern art paintings of who-knew-what adorned the walls. They were so vivid, nearly leaping off the canvas.

  The walls of the entry were a lemon-mustard with white trim. The kitchen was brick red with gloriously powerful black granite counters. The decadent black leather couch in the living room looked unbelievably soft, and the ivory matador sculpture-cum-floor lamp beside it gave her the chills when she looked at the triumph on the bullfighter’s face. A potted palm sat at the end of the couch, its huge leaves bringing tropical serenity to the urban setting.

  Ultra mod track lighting was everywhere, and the dark wood floors were glistening with rich tones. A poster-sized cross-stitched depiction of two young boys filled the wall across from the entrance, and special lighting illuminated its bright red frame. Cheeks flushed, the boys were gallivanting in a vibrantly colorful field of spring flowers, and a small black dog was running beside them, a large stick in his mouth. Their exuberance was so vivid she could almost hear them shrieking with laughter. A deer, two rabbits, and six butterflies cavorted beside them, while a pair of fish leapt joyously out of a stream in the background.

  It was the story of pure childhood exhilaration, of the utter delight of the soul, of two beings so caught up in the sheer joy of being alive. It was the youth Blaine had been yanked out of. “Did you make that?”

  “Yeah.” Blaine didn’t even look over his shoulder. He just headed right into the kitchen. “Brought it out with me.”

  Trinity studied the creation. He’d been running for his life, and he’d brought that with him? It was his dream. A hope he clung to. A desire that had kept him going. She knew, because she had that Passion Fire Bubble Bath that she looked at every night. She wanted to be alive. Blaine wanted his childhood. His brother.

  “Christian.” Blaine’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “You there?”

  Trinity shut the front door behind her, and then peeked into the room. “What are you doing?”

  Blaine was crouched in front of the fridge. “Angelica linked us through the stainless steel before, so I should still be able to tap into the connection.” He laid his palm on the door. “Christian.” His voice was urgent, and she could feel the air thicken, as if he was shoveling energy into the appliance. “Come here.”

  The stainless steel front began to shimmer, and then a face appeared. The sunken ashen visage of a man who looked like a cross between the Grim Reaper and an ad for leprosy. Oh, dear Lord. Was that really Christian? Trinity edged closer, her throat aching for the suffering on the warrior’s face. “What happened to him?”

  “The witch happened to him.” Blaine set his other palm on the fridge. “How are you doing, buddy?”

  Christian lifted a hand, and his effort was weak as he placed it against the steel, so the two men were palm to palm. Smoke rose from Blaine’s hand, and she hurried over to him. “Are you burning yourself?”

  “This is Trinity.” Blaine pulled her down beside him. “She’s a black widow. She can kill Angelica.”

  Christian’s gaze flicked to hers, and there was no life left in that face. He’d given up, a man whose soul was already waiting for Reina. It was the same expression she’d seen on Barry’s face when he’d realized he was dying. A combination of agony, regret, and immense relief.

  “Don’t come back for me.” Christian’s voice was raspy. “She-bitch wins if you return.”

  “Not this time.” Blaine’s voice was hard and his fingers dug into the metal, making little divots. “I’ll be there soon.” Smoke began rising from the tattoo on his chest.

  “Don’t be an ass,” Christian said. “The witch can’t be killed—”

  “A black widow can kill anything.”

  Christian’s eyes closed, and he shuddered. “She’s Angelica’s black widow, Trio. She’ll turn on you as soon as you’re inside. Don’t be the dumb shit I was and trust one of Angelica’s girls.”

  Trinity sat back at the harsh betrayal in Christian’s voice, and then tensed when Blaine
shot a long look at her. As if remembering the woman Christian had referenced, and questioning his own judgment of her.

  “I swear I would never turn you or your friend over to the woman who hurt Christian like that,” she said, unable to keep her voice from breaking. And she meant it. God, did she mean it.

  Blaine cupped her jaw and trailed his finger over her lips. His eyes were burning in his face, and the smoke was thickening on his chest. “I trust her.”

  Christian was watching them now. “You slept with her? She’s messing with both your heads and—”

  “No.” Blaine dropped his hand from her face and turned to his friend. “We’re coming for you.”

  “Don’t bother.” Christian tried to sit up, and fell back to the bed with a painful groan. “One of us has to stay free, so you can take my promise that there’s no reason to come back. I’m dying, and I’m gonna let it happen—”

  “No.” Blaine was rigid now, his pulse hammering visibly in his throat. “If you’re dead when I arrive, I’ll haul your carcass out and set it up in my living room and have parties for it for the next thousand years. You might as well stay alive because I’m coming for you either way.”

  Trinity’s throat tightened at the desperation in Blaine’s voice. At his fear that Christian really was going to die before he could get there. She set her hand on his shoulder. His muscles were taut and his skin was so hot, it was almost as if he was on the verge of self-ignition.

  Christian shook his head. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. I’m done, Trio.”

  Blaine swore. “Listen up, you pansy ass. I’m not contacting you again, so if you die, I won’t know about it. If you’re dead when I arrive, then you can take the guilt to the grave that I’m risking my life for a corpse. I swore I’d come back for you, and I will. It’s your choice about what I take back with me.” Then he jerked his hand off the fridge and the connection broke.

  Where Christian’s face had been became a cold, inanimate kitchen appliance once again.

  Blaine propped his elbow on one knee and bowed his head, as if he were praying. But who was there for a man like Blaine to pray to?

  Trinity moved behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, and rested her cheek on his hunched back. He took her hand and pressed it to his face. “I know you get it.” His voice was raw. “The way you and your dad sacrifice for each other.”

  She scooted around in front of him, and nestled between his knees. She laid her hands on either side of his face. “I do get it,” she said. “I understand.” And she did. Given who Blaine was, he had no choice but to go back for his friend, to do whatever it took to save him. And it was that loyalty, that courage, that made him the man she admired so much.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Once we go back in, she’ll never let us get out of there, and we can’t figure out how to kill her.”

  Trinity nodded. “So, I’m all you’ve got.”

  Blaine fisted the back of her hair and tugged. His grip was tight. Immobilizing her. Trapping her. “Can’t afford to let you go.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t break my promise. As soon as the monster’s dead, I’m all yours. And then—” She left it hanging. Was he still planning to kill her?

  He said nothing, and she sighed. It really complicated matters to know she had to have a plan to fend him off immediately after the witch was dead. Because it wasn’t as if she had enough challenges going on in her life.

  Blaine cupped her face and lowered his head to kiss her. She started to tug out of his grasp. “I don’t think we should—”

  “I need it.” His face was wrecked, his voice haunted. “Please.”

  It was his emphasis on the word need that broke her resolve. No one ever needed her and now he needed her for all sorts of things. And honestly, if Reina was being tortured and dying, she would do anything to save her. Blaine wouldn’t be the man she might love if he could walk away from his friend. Ironically enough, the trait that made her almost love him was also the one that made it impossible to love him.

  But the love was what she was feeling right now, so she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down, and gave him the kiss he’d asked for so nicely.

  His kiss was gentle, almost reverent, as if he couldn’t believe she was in his arms, kissing him. It felt real, raw, burdened with emotion so intense that the only way he could handle it was to share it with her.

  Her heart swelled, and her skin began to heat up— Oh, no!

  A loud crash sounded from outside the front door. Blaine jumped to his feet and sprinted toward the vestibule, a white-hot fireball blazing in his hand.

  Trinity sank back on her heels, trying to catch her breath. Heavenly intervention right there. But how unfair was it that she couldn’t even let herself enjoy the moment without going spider? Not even for one minute? For once, just once, she wanted to be able to appreciate a man and not have to run away screaming.

  “For hell’s sake,” a man said. “You followed us here?”

  “Of course I followed you here.” Reina’s voice drifted through the door. “How else would I find Trinity?”

  “Reina!” Trinity leapt to her feet. Yes, so feeling the love for some female support right now.

  Blaine extinguished the fireball as the door opened and Nigel strode in. His eyes were glowing and he looked excited. “Do you have any idea how incredible the architecture here is? I could paint it for years.”

  “You kill the Chameleon?” Blaine asked.

  Trinity looked sharply at Blaine. Did he really think his team could kill the monster without her help? Because if that was true—

  Nigel shook his head. “No chance. But we wore it out. Left it napping under the bridge by the swan boats. I think it’ll be there for a while.” He went into the kitchen and grabbed a set of brushes, a bunch of paint, and a sketchbook that he’d apparently stashed in Blaine’s top drawer. “The thing will be easy to find when we figure out how to kill it.” He looked at Trinity as he flipped open the sketchpad. “Or when you decide to kill it.”

  Trinity set her hands on her hips, bristling at his tone. “Hey, even though I’m not going to actually deliver the death blow, I’m going to make sure it dies. You can count on that.”

  “You’re a woman.” Nigel swiped a whiteboard from a cabinet, laid it flat, then began squeezing paint onto it. “Not a lot of reliability there.”

  Trinity sighed. These men so needed time around women who weren’t trained to maim and kill.

  “You’re not coming inside.” Jarvis stepped over the threshold, then swung around and grasped the doorframe, using his body to block Reina. “You’re not invited.”

  Trinity started toward the door. “Let her in, Jarvis—”

  Blaine caught her arm. “I trust his judgment. If he thinks she’s dangerous, I’m going to defer to him.”

  “She’s dangerous only if he tries to stop her. I’m trying to protect him from her.” Trinity tried to pull free, but Blaine merely tightened his grip and propelled her back into the kitchen.

  Fine. Let the men see what they were dealing with.

  Reina started laughing at Jarvis. Her auburn hair was messy and disheveled, and there was blood on her jeans, but her eyes were twinkling. “You’re scared of me?”

  “Hah.” He leaned against the doorframe and set his foot across the door. Folded his arms across his leather-clad chest. “I just don’t have time for Death right now.”

  Amusement danced in Reina’s eyes. “Well, listen, big guy, you can stop worrying. I’m not here in my official capacity. I’m here on BFF duty. Trin needs me.”

  Jarvis glowered at her. “The black widow has us. That’s all she needs.”

  Reina rolled her eyes. “That’s so arrogant to think a couple of macho guys are an adequate substitute for female solidarity. You’re so wrong.”

  Nigel walked up to Jarvis. “Let her in. I want to paint her. Never thought eyes that beautiful could carry that much guilt.”

/>   Trinity stiffened. Oh, man, that was so not a smart thing to say to Reina. “Nigel—”

  The amusement vanished from Reina’s face, and she glared at Nigel. “Don’t you dare try your emotional artist stuff on me.” She jabbed her fingers into his chest. “And I don’t appreciate that you think my only value here is as a model for some creepy guy to paint nudes.”

  Nigel raised his brows. “Nudes? Now that’s an idea—”

  Reina lifted her fingers and waggled them at him.

  Trinity yelped in protest. “No, don’t—”

  Black powder poured out of Reina’s fingertips, coating Nigel in a gray cloud. He blinked, turned ash gray, then tipped over and crashed to the floor. Fantastic. Just what they needed, for Reina to piss off the men who were their only chance to save Trinity’s dad without losing her soul. “Reina—”

  Jarvis already had his blade at Reina’s throat. “Heal him,” he commanded.

  “Don’t—” Trinity grabbed for Jarvis’s arm, but Blaine hooked his elbow around her neck and pulled her against him, so her back was trapped against his chest.

  “Let them be,” he said quietly. “They’re working things out.”

  “They’re going to kill each other!”

  “No.” Blaine pulled her back into the kitchen. “They’re both warriors, and they’re feeling each other out. It’ll be fine as long as we let them sort through it.”

  Trinity scowled at him. “They’re not dogs.”

  “No,” Blaine agreed as Jarvis pressed the blade harder against Reina’s throat. “But in some ways, not that different. Trust me when I say it’ll all go better if we give them a minute. I have a feeling we’re going to need them both before this is over.”

  Trinity bit her lip as she watched Reina tap the blade lightly, as if testing it. Yes, it was true Reina was a rock solid friend if she had your back, but she was also a very dangerous enemy. “Okay,” Trinity whispered. “Sixty seconds, and then we’re getting out the hose.”

  Blaine squeezed her once and kissed her hair. “You got it.”