Black and Blue (Page 21)

Black and Blue (Otherworld Assassin #2)(21)
Author: Gena Showalter

Impossible.

“I’ll be fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go before the cops arrive.”

They returned to the car, settled inside.

As he reprogrammed the GPS, he said, “As soon as I rise from the dead, I’m telling Pagan it’s over.” He’d just cheated on her for real. Yeah, he’d told her there would be other women, but this was different.

This had been of his own volition.

He really was a he-slut.

There was no way to make this right. No way to reclaim his honor, but he could do an honorable thing. He could set Pagan free, allowing her to find someone else. Someone deserving of her.

“I hope you’re not doing that on my account,” Evie said, peering out the window, hiding her expression. “That was our first and last kiss. It’s never going to happen again.”

He’d just thought the same thing—and yet, it still irritated him to hear her say it. “Don’t worry, flower petal. Getting involved with you is the last thing I want to do.”

Nine

I’M IN SO MUCH trouble.

Before, Evie had only been able to speculate about Blue’s sexual prowess. She’d told herself that all the women flocking to him were fools, and his skill completely overrated.

Now she knew better.

His skills were seriously underrated. He hadn’t just kissed her. He’d screwed the hell out of her mouth. And all the while, waves of his power had cascaded over her, heating her, making it feel like a thousand hands were concentrated on her naughty bits.

She’d never been so swept up in a moment, or so lost in sensation.

How close she’d come to letting him take her in public, out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see. How close she’d come to being used—and discarded.

I’m not going to be another conquest. I’m not!

From now on, she would be more careful around him. Although . . . maybe she wouldn’t have to be.

Getting involved with you is the last thing I want to do, he’d said, and even though she’d agreed with the sentiment, the words had still managed to cut at her.

How pathetic am I? she thought. I can’t even get the world’s most promiscuous man to want me unless he’s desperate to release a little power.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Michael, John, and Solo. She wouldn’t forget again. And if she did, she might just give herself a lobotomy.

* * *

While Evie set up an external perimeter around the rubble of Michael’s decimated house, creating invisible walls that would keep everyone and everything out, including prying eyes, Blue tossed charred boards out of the way by using his power, clearing the biggest pieces of debris before picking through the section where Fry Guy had tried to cook him for dinner.

He wished he could use his favorite ability. Or rather, he wished he could use a tweaked version of his favorite ability. Blue could stand in one location, any location, and force the last ten minutes to replay. He could watch everything that had transpired, like a movie unfolding across a television screen, whether he’d first borne witness or not. But the explosion had happened over a week ago, too far in the past for this capability.

There was another talent he could use here, however. One he’d always considered useless. An azure glow began to seep from the pores in his hand, and he ran his palm over bits and pieces of scorched wood, metal, and paper, the char disintegrating to reveal whatever was hidden beneath.

The glow could clean anything—except his dirty thoughts. His desire for Evie hadn’t faded in the silence of the drive. Had only grown.

He was more appalled by the knowledge with every second that passed. He was also extremely ticked.

How had he gone from total dislike of her to this . . . seeming obsession?

“Cool trick,” she said, coming up beside him.

He steeled himself against her honey-almond scent, saying, “Just one of many.”

She placed her hand at her heart. “So humble.”

“I seem to recall your aversion to lies. Or has that changed?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “What, exactly, is it that you think we’re going to find?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Ah. This is a we’ll-know-it-when-we-see-it mission.”

“Yes. Now zip it and help.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

The response was unexpected—where was her anger?—and he barely stifled his laughter. There’d never be a dull moment with this girl, that was for sure.

She worked alongside him for ten . . . twenty minutes without a word, but his awareness of her never dissipated. There was something about the grace of her movements that continually drew his eye.

Why did she have to be Michael’s daughter?

“Just say whatever’s on your mind,” she finally growled, her good humor gone. “I don’t like the way you’re watching me.”

Noticed, had she? “And how am I watching you?”

“As if you’d like to eat me.”

I would. I so would. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then again for dessert. “Why don’t you do us both a solid and get over yourself, butter buns.” The best defense was a good offense and all that jazz.

“Butter buns? That’s the worst of the lot!” She threw a piece of wood at his head.

He stopped it midway with only a slight thread of power, letting it hover a moment before he sent it flying to the side. Of course, she used his distraction against him and threw another. This one pelted him in the chest, nearly deflating his lungs.

“Do that again,” he growled. “I dare you.”

“Dare accepted.” She did it again.

Like the first time, he stopped it and sent it flying. “I’m warning you, Evie.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do to me, huh?”

She was panting, he realized, and so was he. They were staring at each other, just as they’d done after the explosion, looking for an outlet for their anger . . . and awareness of each other. Only, this time nothing had happened to provoke such a response. If they kissed, they would only have themselves to blame.

He almost didn’t care. His mouth watered for her. His hands ached for her.

“Never mind.” Her cheeks flushed as she stomped away from him. He thought he heard her mutter the word lobotomy. “We’re here for a reason. Let’s concentrate.”

How aggravating that Evie Black had become the voice of reason in their relationship.

“Miracle of miracles, you’re right.” He returned his attention to the pile of ash, and his gaze snagged on a small cigarette lighter. The metal had melted, but after a quick cleanup the unique logo became visible. A naked blonde straddled a male that was half white knight, half black unicorn.