Twist

by Dannika Dark

  Once inside, he pulled out a cell phone and slid the key in the ignition.

  “I have the female. Where do you want her delivered and… There’s no need, she’s not going anywhere.”

  “Tell him he’ll never have me,” I said.

  Logan stared straight ahead, but his eyes shifted just a fraction in my direction.

  “I’m a Chitah, are you saying my word is no good?” He gripped the stick shift and squeezed.

  Silence.

  “No, I did not agree to this and I don’t like that you’re changing the rules. Tell me why you’re backing out of the agreement?” He focused outside the window and lowered his voice. “Let’s get one thing clear: I am not a delivery service.”

  I wondered how fast I could whip my foot around and break the key in the ignition.

  “Be that as it may…”

  His fingers curled around the wheel and he sighed. “I will accept that offer. Where?”

  The engine roared to life.

  Several minutes crept by. Over the silent hum of the tires spinning along the asphalt, Logan’s throaty voice broke the silence. “He said you have something that belongs to him.”

  “I bet he did. Does he come with a name?”

  “We never got to the introductions.”

  “And you expect me to believe that?”

  “I expect nothing, except an answer to my question. What do you possess that’s his?”

  “I have something he wants, but it doesn’t belong to him.”

  Logan squeezed the ends of his wet hair and turned the wheel with a sharp yank. A terrified squirrel dashed through the headlights and scurried into the brush.

  “Maybe you should give it to him.”

  My nature would have been to lash out at him, but I sat quietly in my seat. Power and age should have brought wisdom—but in this world, all it brought was greed.

  “What he wants is my light.”

  “A juicer?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Call it whatever you want.”

  “Maybe I’ll call it… bullshit. I can’t blame you for trying,” he sang.

  “To be honest, I don’t care what you think, Mr. Cross. You’re the least of my concerns.” I held my tongue and focused on leveling down the energy that was beginning to surface. The low decibel hum was a symptom, as thirst is to one who is dehydrated. I needed to be alert, and seek an opportunity to lay it on him.

  And boy, did I want to lay it on him.

  “There was a change of plans. I’ll be trading you off up ahead.”

  “Why not take me directly to him?”

  “We negotiated over the phone to meet, but he changed his mind at the last minute. I suspect as a Mage, he fears me.”

  “How do you trust a man you’ve never met?”

  “Who said I trusted him? We will be square after tonight.”

  “Ah, that explains a lot,” I said. “So you are the fool that owes him.”

  “I pay my debts.”

  “You should quit getting yourself in a position where you owe people. It makes you look inept.”

  His eyes flashed at mine. “You sure are a noisy little bird,” he snapped.

  “Bite me.”

  He made a frightening sound—deep and low. I knew I was instigating trouble, so I turned my attention on the locking mechanism.

  Plan A: I somehow manage to open the door with my hands tied behind my back and roll across the highway, losing skin and breaking bones.

  Plan B: I knock him out. What’s the worst that could happen? The car flips over, crushing my body between the door and asphalt. Then, a fire sparks from the gas leak, and I slowly burn to death.

  Neither was an option. I wiggled in my seat, trying to loosen his impossible knot. I looked out the window and saw we were heading deeper into the woods. A low fog covered the ground like a soft breath.

  “We’re nearly there,” he said.

  I was running out of options—and out of time. “Will you take a bribe?” I asked reluctantly. That piqued his interest.

  “What do you offer?”

  “I have no money on me. What will you take?”

  His lower incisors rose as if they were hands volunteering.

  When the car pulled off the road, we got out. My stomach twisted into a tight knot as he gripped my upper arm. What Pandora’s box did I just open?

  The rain tapered off to a fine mist, leaving a thin film of moisture on my face. An earthy fragrance lifted from the forest like a familiar memory. I stepped on a large twig that rolled, causing me to slip. Logan’s other arm swung around and caught me before I fell. We moved down a steep slope until he backed me up against a wide tree.

  His eyes memorized every angle of my face before falling to my mouth. Logan’s heated gaze was like a pulse against my skin. Frosty wind cooled my cheeks, and the bark of the tree was rough against my back. I felt everything around me: the delicate breeze, a small insect crawling on my wrist, the sound of my heart stammering in my chest, and Logan’s rhythmic breathing.

  “Typical.” I dropped my eyes to the muddy ground.

  “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I am not an animal.”

  “Then why do you have me cornered against a tree?”

  “I despise your kind,” he bit out.

  Yet, he inched forward and curled his fingers around the ends of my hair. “I might consider letting you go, for a kiss.”

  “Consider? A bribe means payment guaranteed.”

  “It’s all I can offer. Take it, or leave it.”

  “Do you normally play with your food before you eat it?”

  He soaked me in, top to bottom. His piercing gaze was like a blade running across my delicate skin.

  “Then we can go,” he said, hooking a hand around my upper arm. I yanked my shoulder back and flattened against the tree. He might be lying—in which case all I would be out was a kiss. But if he spoke the truth and kept to his word, then it meant my freedom. It seemed like such a small pawn to sacrifice.

  “I’ll agree to this one request, but if you start putting stipulations on it, then I’m telling you up front the answer is no. Go on and take your kiss, Mr. Cross.”

  I tensed, expecting him to drag me back to the car. The earth crunched beneath his shoes as he parted his legs, leaning forward. My fingers continued working to loosen the knot. Logan lifted my chin with the crook of his finger, and lowered his head to meet mine.

  “Give me your lips,” he growled. It was insistent, and there was no desire coating his words. This meant nothing to him; I might as well have been a tetanus shot in his ass.

  “Why do you want this?”

  His lip twitched. “A Mage is my enemy, and I should know everything about my enemy. I’ve never been close to a female of your kind,” he said inching closer, “and I find you… puzzling.”

  Puzzling wasn’t a word a man had ever called me before.

  His gaze was detached, as if he were studying the inner workings of a pocket watch.

  Logan abruptly planted his warm lips on mine. I stood very still, waiting for those sharp teeth to slice me up, but they remained retracted.

  Something changed while his lips explored mine, softening with every stroke.

  Bark from the tree snapped above my head, showering small chips of wood in my hair. His fingers clawed against it, and I sensed a shift in his energy.

  There was nothing demanding or rough about Logan’s kiss. His fleshy lips touched mine with soft pecks on the corners before returning front and center. They diligently tried to coax mine to respond, but I did not reciprocate. Up close, his body carried a masculine smell, one that made it very tempting to capture a breath and hold it in. His lips tasted of peppermint, and his chin was shaved so close it was baby smooth.

  Logan didn’t kiss me as a man who wanted more—he kissed me adoringly, reverently. I didn’t even know this man and he kissed me with more passion than any man I’d ever known. My knees wobbled and I tried to steady myself.

>   “Kiss me back,” he breathed.

  When he rubbed his face against my cheek in one long stroke, I grew alarmed. Not because I was afraid of him, but I was afraid of what I was feeling. He was inciting a desire to participate, and I had an urge to nuzzle against his neck.

  “I don’t like games. I told you—”

  My words cut off when a vibration rumbled from his chest.

  His brow arched. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” he chuckled, brushing those soft lips over mine… again and again.

  My lips wanted to obey, and I knew it was wrong. An internal battle was ensuing—instinct vs. common sense—two dominant forces at the root of all decisions.

  His breath over my mouth whispered, “Kiss me, little raven.”

  Common sense got its ass kicked.

  I kissed back—just a small movement of my trembling lips. Logan groaned, and in a split second, his incisors punched out. I sucked in a sharp breath, and my eyes flew wide open.

  He pushed away with a ferocious glare.

  “What the fuck do we have here?” a voice shouted from the road.

  Two men walked in front of a spray of headlights. The energy flared out and washed over me like an electric current.

  “You were supposed to meet us by the tracks, a mile down,” one Mage said, pointing as if speaking to a child. “Do you have a problem understanding orders, or do you need a can of tuna as motivation?”

  The second Mage hunched over laughing.

  Logan turned to confront them.

  “I would not advise provoking me, Mage,” he warned. “It appears I’m not the only one who has difficulty following orders.”

  “Oh we’re following orders, pussycat. Bring the girl,” he said, curling his fingers. When he struck a match and lit the end of his cigarette, I caught a glimpse of a thick mustache. A cloud of smoke swirled around him in the humid air, and he flicked the match on the wet pavement. “You’ve had your fun with her. Our boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “I don’t take orders, and the agreement is to deliver her to the appointed location. This is not that location. Leave us,” Logan demanded. “I will entertain nothing you have to say. When I am ready, she will be all yours.”

  All yours.

  Kiss or not, he wasn’t letting me go. I struggled to loosen the knot behind my back when a bold, heavy scent covered me like thick molasses. I became dizzy with it, resting my head against Logan’s back. I inhaled, and the fibers of his shirt were rich with the smell. Its effect was like a drug, and when I realized what I was doing, I snapped my head up and stepped away.

  The man flicked his cigarette on the asphalt and crushed it beneath his heel.

  “We don’t have time for this bullshit,” he muttered. “Go get her, Nate.”

  Nate, a very unassuming Mage with scrawny features and a short goatee, made his way down the slope, sliding on the wet grass. Logan stood motionless with his arms passively hung at his side. When Nate was about twenty feet away, he stopped unexpectedly and grimaced.

  “Fucking hell, Ethan, he’s marked her. Get the gun!”

  Chapter 11

  Knox paced across Sunny’s kitchen floor like a tethered dog. He was a ground zero, balls-to-the-wall kind of guy. Simon and Justus rushed to the airport, and Knox didn’t feel right about leaving Sunny alone. Part of him wanted to run into the action, but someone needed to keep an eye on the girl. She was in a panic, and people on the edge do crazy shit.

  Knox was restless from lack of sleep, and not because he was stuffed on a tiny couch like a moose in a burrito. No, his sleepless nights were because of Justus. Once Knox discovered his gift of charming the skirts off the ladies, he kept his eyes locked on Sunny’s door through the long hours of the night. You can’t trust a man with that kind of power. He acted as a buffer by following her around the apartment. She was a conversational creature, always asking Knox questions and offering him food. So what if she slept with Justus? Why should he care?

  Still, it scratched his back the wrong way.

  “You’re going to wear a ditch in my floor.”

  Sunny breezed by him to make a cup of hot chocolate. It was the usual time when she enjoyed her cocoa. Knox noticed.

  She reached for a mug on the top shelf of a white cabinet, wearing a short purple robe. Her thigh was wet where it peeked through the slit of fabric.

  Yeah, Knox noticed that too.

  “Let me get that,” he murmured, lifting the cup from the shelf.

  “I’m going to make you something special, so have a seat. I know a secret recipe that involves a bottle of Kahlúa, which I just so happen to have,” she said, tapping a finger to her chin and looking around. Her eyes lit up and she opened a lower cabinet. “Maybe it’ll help those dark circles around your eyes.”

  It sounded good. Knox couldn’t remember the last time someone made him cocoa. Probably never. He dragged his feet to an empty chair, ruffling a hand through tangles of hair as he watched her heat the milk on the stove.

  Sunny stirred a long spoon in the blue mugs, setting them down on the table. She tucked her chin in her hand, watching the swirl of foam spin around. The worry on her face shouldn’t have bothered him, but it settled at the pit of his stomach like a hot coal.

  “She’s fine. Just sit tight and wait for them to call.”

  Her blond locks—colorful with highlights—cascaded over her face. Fingers ran deep into their waves and while he couldn’t hear it, he knew she was crying.

  “We left her alone. I’m supposed to be her friend and I should have been there.” Her voice weakened. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”

  She scooted her chair back and left the room. He listened to the sound of her sticky feet on the wood floor until the bedroom door slammed. Her guilt was ludicrous. What could she have possibly done except put herself in danger?

  Knox quietly tasted the cocoa. Damn, she was right; it was delicious.

  He drank it to the bottom, letting it warm his belly before he cleaned the cup and moved into the living room. Sunny’s personality filled the apartment. Lavender was her favorite color; she often wore it, and there were small touches around the place. For every kooky lamp and photograph of her at a party, there was a provocative painting, a romance novel, or small arrangements of handmade flowers. It wasn’t the kind of lifestyle Knox was used to, but over the past couple of days, he had never felt more at home. He didn’t have a toothbrush on the first night, and she made a trip to the store for food. Before he went to bed, sitting on top of his bag was a purple toothbrush wrapped in plastic.

  Knox sat on the pale green sofa and flipped out the light.

  He listened to neighbors arguing, a leaky faucet in the bathroom, and the occasional creak as the apartment settled. He closed his eyes for what seemed like a second when they snapped open. His heart pounded, although it wasn’t clear what exactly woke him up.

  A weak sound came from Sunny’s room. Knox vaulted from the sofa and cocked his head, straining his ears. There it was again—a whimper. She had a fire escape outside her window, an easy opportunity for any lowlife.

  Motherfucker! Knox saw red. He swung the door open and scanned the room, fists clenched and ready to swing.

  The room was empty. The window was closed. A sting of embarrassment touched his ears from the impulsive reaction.

  Light filtered through the window, illuminating a figure on the bed. Knox took a moment to admire her. By the fine curve of her hip, she was lying on her side. Sunny took another quick breath and coughed. Something was wrong.

  Her face was mashed in the pillow, so he touched her shoulder. “Hey, wake up.” She rolled to her back and those puffy eyes flew open.

  “You’re dreaming. Settle down.”

  Knox backed up into a shadowy corner. No one needed to wake up to the likes of him.

  “You don’t have to hide from me,” she said, wiping away tears. “I had a dream about Silver and the night she disappeared. Except in the
dream, I saw everything that happened to her.” Her breath trembled, and voice softened. “Will you sleep in here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

  Knox was unable to speak. It wasn’t longing in her voice—it was fear. She wanted someone to keep her company, so he eyed the wooden chair by the window.

  “I’m sorry about the couch situation. I was saving up for a new one, but my car broke down again. Transmission repairs aren’t cheap.” She scooted a curvy hip to the far end of the bed. “You can have that side.”

  That side. The side next to her. Twin beds didn’t offer much room, and Knox was the kind of guy who took up a whole lot of mattress. A tiny wave of terror rolled through him.

  “I’m sorry about that night at the hotel; I’m obviously not your type.”

  Well, that remark just peeved him. “What do you think my type is?”

  She sniffled and stretched beneath the sheets. “I don’t know. I suppose I picture you with a sexy, confident woman.”

  Jesus, she didn’t have a clue. That woman was in the dictionary next to those words.

  “It’s not a proposition, Knox. I feel bad that I don’t have a guest room and you’re stuck on that sofa with the loose spring. If it makes you feel any better, we can sleep head to foot.”

  That mental picture rolled around in his dirty mind with all kinds of wrong attached to it. When he didn’t move, she yanked the covers away and threw her feet to the floor.

  “Hardheaded are we? Then you take the bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa. You look about as petrified as a fossil, and I didn’t even flirt with you.”

  “Get back in the bed,” he ordered.

  Without protest, she slipped those long, bashful legs beneath the sheets. When the short gown rose up, he averted his eyes like the gentleman he wasn’t.

  A nervous creak sounded from beneath the bed when Knox sat down. Sunny chuckled, but kept her back to him. “It’s an old bed and sometimes the planks fall out. I got it on sale when I was going through my antique phase.”

  If that was the case, she was about to be the proud owner of a bed of antique splinters.