Devil's Punch cs-4 Page 10

  “We were working on my mom’s behalf. At least, that’s what I did with my share. She deserved to be her own boss.…She sacrificed a lot bringing me up. I know she went without so the other kids wouldn’t make fun of me at school.”

  Another new thought, Chance as an underprivileged kid. If they’d scrimped and saved to put food on the table, that, too, probably explained his fixation on making money. But back to Lily. Provided I could handle more revelations. At least getting to know Chance took my mind off what might be going on with Shannon.

  “Did Lily graduate?”

  “Summa cum laude.”

  Impressive. I only knew that meant she’d gotten really good grades. The education I’d gotten since high school, I’d acquired myself, and I did a lot of reading on my own—various fiction and nonfiction. I was partial to John D. MacDonald. None of that eclectic reading constituted a degree, but I didn’t let it make me feel bad. He’d come after me, given up everything for me. Surely that meant something, more than just that he didn’t want to be alone. A guy like Chance never had trouble finding company; he could crook his finger and summon a date. He wanted a partner. He wanted me.

  “What did she want to do, music-wise?”

  “I thought she was good enough to sign with a major label,” he said, “but she wanted to get her master’s and go into music therapy. She intended to do good works instead of get rich.”

  Wow. That might’ve been a bone of contention. I could see the trouble brewing in my mind’s eye. If Lily grew up with money, and just wanted to help people, she might not understand Chance’s need to prove himself by putting lots of zeroes in a bank account. She wouldn’t have understood that particular drive, even if she loved him. Since I’d been dirt-poor, I got it. I had the same compulsive need about having a home.

  “How long were you together?”

  “Five years, until I was twenty-four.”

  Longer than I’d expected—sometimes answers didn’t offer all the solutions; they just created more doubt. How could I compete with this? Yet he was doing as I’d requested, so it didn’t seem fair to punish him because he’d loved someone else first.

  “And how long until you started dating me?”

  “It had been a year when I met you.”

  I was twenty-one then, and I’d been on my own for three hard years since leaving Kilmer. I’d hit rock bottom, but by the time we started dating I had a job in Tampa at a dry cleaner’s and a crappy studio apartment. He had been twenty-five, though he’d seemed older in terms of sophistication. Those basic facts I’d known before, but they felt different, now that I saw the context of his loss. We had been together for over three years, until I nearly died, until I couldn’t take the emotional distance anymore. However, at least I understood why he’d behaved that way. In all honesty, I’d been his rebound girl, and so it was a wonder our relationship lasted as long as it did, a testament to how desperate I had been to please him.

  He was thirty-two now, and I was twenty-eight. Our footing had changed.

  “Ah,” I said, and he heard something in my voice.

  “I know I was wrong in the way I handled…us. I thought I could I could protect you, if I could just control everything.”

  “Even me.”

  “Yes, even you. I managed you. Or I tried to. And I just couldn’t let myself be vulnerable the way you wanted, especially toward the end.”

  “I understand.” I did, now. It didn’t lessen the damage he’d inflicted on me, but it helped me to comprehend it. “Did you mean to marry her?”

  “I wanted to be able to provide for her first.”

  “You were saving for a ring…or a down payment on a house?”

  “Both. I had no idea what I was doing to her,” he went on brokenly. I’d never heard this tone from Chance, and a fist curled around my spine. His shaking hands clenched on his thighs. “After she died, I didn’t even know…” He took a couple of steadying breaths, and I reached for him.

  He didn’t cry in my arms because that wouldn’t be a Chance thing to do, but he trembled, and he let me comfort him. Not a Chance thing to do, but I’d realized the Chance I’d known was the broken version. I’d very much like to get to know the man who loved a woman as fiercely as he’d loved Lily…and maybe me, now.

  “How did you find out?” I asked when he eased away.

  “I overheard my mom discussing how to break the news. She said she hated to hurt me, but that I had to know so I could take suitable precautions going forward.”

  “Did she realize your gift could kill?” If she had, then it was criminal of her not to tell him sooner, even if her intentions had been good. For the first time, I felt a flicker of anger at Min. Before, I’d always blamed Chance, but she guarded her own secrets as tightly. Like his father’s identity.

  He shook his head. “She knew the bad luck could be deflected, but she thought there were limits. So did I. But it makes sense—if the luck can save my life, then it can take someone else’s. After that, Mom looked for ways to compensate, but I wasn’t interested. I decided I wouldn’t get close to anyone else again.”

  In his way, Chance had been every bit as messed up as I was. He probably still was, but I wouldn’t hold it against him. “So then…why did you—”

  “Ask you out?” he finished. “It was the oddest thing. I tried to explain it to you once before, that click. I heard your drawl, saw your smile, and everything in my head went fuzzy. It was like I know this girl, or I felt like I should. I had to see you again. I told myself I’d be careful.”

  “So you were trying to protect me.”

  He nodded. “Later, I thought if I kept the emotional walls up, it would keep you from getting hurt.”

  “I don’t condone how you handled things, but I understand.”

  “That’s the best I could hope for.”

  “And I guess my accident proves you did love me, after all. By the end.”

  He closed his eyes. “I tried so hard not to. My love kills, Corine. But you were so sweet, so…”

  “Gullible?”

  “Irresistible. I couldn’t help myself. And the luck compensated when I stopped fighting, when I fell headlong for you—”

  “I fell too. Literally.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  And it was. The past was no longer a thorn in my soul.

  I had a lot to think about, but everything made sense now. From my perspective, he should have told me the risks after we got serious—my opinion on that didn’t change—but he hadn’t acted out of malice. His head was all fucked up at the time, and he was trying to do what was best. And maybe, just maybe, he’d seen a glimpse of my past—a suggestion that I needed somebody to take care of me for a while. I certainly hadn’t fought at first. It was only later that I wanted more.

  Now I’d given him reason to doubt me. Did that make us even?

  Then I added, “I won’t make you talk about her again if you’d rather not.”

  “It’s not Lily, per se. Just how badly I failed her.”

  Yeah. He wouldn’t be here, if he’d known the risks, if she’d gotten regular cleansings. Such a small thing, but for want of the horseshoe nail, and all that. Most likely, he’d be married with a kid or two, working as a stockbroker or a day trader, while his wife with the beautiful singing voice ministered to the unfortunate. Instead, he had an inert Chihuahua and me. That illustrated perfectly how unfair life could be.

  Sweetness and Light

  “It’s pretty clear neither one of us is perfect,” Chance said. “We’ve both screwed up. At this point, we have to decide what to do about it.”

  “Do you believe I can do better?”

  “Do you think I can?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

  “Then let’s start there.” He pushed to his feet, weariness in every movement. “If I can stay awake, I’m taking a shower.” He paused. “You’re lucky, you know. If I had more energy, I’d have b
itched you out good.”

  “Let’s hear it for exhaustion.” I listened to the water running in the bathroom, and the next thing I knew, it was a long time later. I knew that because Greydusk was rapping politely on the door, and it wouldn’t wake me without a good reason.

  “Sybella grows impatient,” it said.

  “Any trouble?”

  “It was quiet until the summons.”

  “Awesome.”

  “I am to inform you there is clothing suitable to your station in the wardrobe.”

  Suitable to my station. Fabulous. No doubt it would be elegant and uncomfortable as hell.

  “I need time to get ready.”

  “I will pass the message to Gilder.” Its footsteps trailed away.

  I raised up on one elbow and found Chance gazing at me with lambent, sleep-lidded eyes. The bed was big enough that I couldn’t remember running up against him in the night. Or day. Whatever we’d slept through.

  I made a conscious choice to move toward him. He met me halfway and his arms slipped around me, as they had so many times before. I didn’t stifle the memories this time. I let them come, and some were beautiful. Once, I’d thought he was the best thing ever to happen to me. Maybe I would again.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered.

  “You too.”

  He buried his face in my tousled hair, rubbing his cheek slowly side to side. I wondered then: Did love ever truly die? I stroked his back and held him, savoring the moment.

  “Sad as it sounds, this is the happiest I’ve been since you left me.”

  I eased back to stare at him. “That’s…pretty messed up.”

  “I know,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that revelation. I mean, on the surface, it was flattering. But I’d moved on. Put my life back together and grown stronger. Chance had fixated on getting me back. I asked myself if that was healthy or if it was a sign of how much he’d come to love me. Maybe I didn’t know shit about relationships and I was looking for an excuse to wig out and run.

  Right now, none of it mattered.

  I leaned in and touched my lips to his. His fingers tangled in my hair, his mouth an endless sweetness on mine. He’d always kissed like a god. Our breathing was ragged when I pulled back.

  “Time to get up.”

  But before we did, he brought me breakfast in the form of another protein bar and water. After I ate, I got out of bed and went to the wardrobe, where I found clothing suitable for the circus. Seriously.

  Apparently, Greydusk wanted me to wear a satin brocade gown with a jeweled belt and a formal headdress. It looked like a combo of the shit they made Amidala wear in those awful Star Wars prequels and crazy Ren Faire garb run amok. Yeah, there’s no way. Over my dead body, I put one of those on. Chance came to stand behind me, wearing nothing but his boxers.

  Damn.

  He really was breathtakingly beautiful. His hair was long and shaggy, gleaming like a raven’s wing. It looked like my hands had been in it. His face? Well, that had always been sculpted to splendor beyond human limits. Since I’d left, he’d spent more time working out, more time sparring, and the result was a body that could make me stop and stare. I’d never seen anyone with an eight-pack before. When he caught me looking, he ducked his head, inexplicably shy, and it delighted me.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I said. “I mean, you always were, but in a more GQ, impervious way.”

  “Now?”

  “I can’t look at you without wanting to touch.”

  His eyes widened, but so did his smile. I never would’ve been so honest about my desire before; my confidence wasn’t up to the mark. Back in the day, I’d worried that he’d feel like he had to lie if I said something like that, because clearly I wasn’t his physical equal, and I avoided the subject instead of addressing it. I pretended the looks we got from other women, the oh my God, you’re seriously a couple stares, the she must be a freak in bed speculation, didn’t bother me. This time it really didn’t.

  Yet I stopped myself from going to him. With Sybella breathing down my neck and a comatose dog to worry about, I couldn’t be making out with Chance. Even though I wanted to. And that was a little worrisome. Not that he wasn’t totally kissable, but when in Sheol, I had to wonder if the demons were fucking with my libido. I wasn’t going to dance to their tune.

  So with a faint, regretful sigh, I hauled the least offensive garment out of the wardrobe. In side drawers, I discovered their idea of underpants suitable to my station. Chance’s jaw dropped. And I stifled a scream of frustration.

  “Seriously?” I said out loud.

  “That’s so…” He was grinning.

  “I hate you. Go take a cold shower or something.”

  While he mercifully did as I ordered, I scrambled into the ridiculous contraption. The undergarment was all one piece, designed to pinch and push up, and give me a demon-style body with impossible curves. It was a little hard to breathe after I got it on, and then I pulled the dress on. The fabric slithered in a disconcerting manner as I smoothed it down. Then, to my horror, I saw it…moving. Tightening. I went to yank it off, suspecting it would try to kill me, and then I realized it was shaping itself perfectly to my demon-enhanced silhouette.

  Holy shit.

  Light as air, it felt like wearing nothing at all. There had to be magick involved, because with the dress on, even the horrible corset-thing didn’t bind like it had. Naturally demons would think of something like this since they lived for temptation. And what better way to drive men crazy? I was eyeing the headdress when Chance stepped out of the bathroom. He stopped in his tracks, towel in hand.

  “Dear God.” His voice went hoarse.

  I admit his expression gave me a purely adrenal thrill, like if I offered him the slightest encouragement, he’d back me up against the wall and do me hard with my elegant gown around my waist. And what woman didn’t love that feeling?

  Focus, I told myself.

  “There are clothes for you, too.” I broke the spell over him by using my words.

  He exhaled and gave himself a slow shake before crossing to get dressed. Then I went to check on Butch. The dog still couldn’t be roused.

  Heartsick, I paged through the blue grimoire, muttering to myself. Chance skimmed the other one alongside me. I wanted to believe he cared as much as I did. After all, he’d been there when we adopted the dog. Together, we almost constituted a family. Maybe we were if the rules were generous in their definitions of such things.

  A tear slipped down my cheek, and that made me mad. My dog lay like a tiny statue, unresponsive. Even his flesh had gone cold.

  He’s not dead. He can’t be.

  But if he was, I would ascend and level this place.

  Without much hope, I tried a couple of spells, but Greydusk pounded on the door again and worry laced the impatience of its tone. “We truly should not keep Sybella waiting.”

  Well, Chance was ready—and he looked like a prince. No shit, he really did. He wore black trousers, a white shirt edged in silver, and a sleeveless surcoat, which wasn’t exactly what I’d call a vest. With a sword belt and a couple of rapiers, he could have starred in an adventure movie.

  “Butch will be okay,” he said, soothing me with hands on my shoulders.

  I squared them. Sure. Just like Shannon would be. With me at the helm and his luck staining me as we went along, there was no way this could go bad. I kept the thoughts to myself as I stepped out into the antechamber, where Greydusk was waiting for us. Not surprisingly, the demon looked the same as the day before.

  “It’s about time,” it muttered.

  But that didn’t prevent the Imaron from sweeping me a surprisingly elegant bow. Court manners, I knew instinctively, though why I’d recognize them as such when I’d grown up in a cursed Southern town so small you could blink and miss it, I had no clue. Movies, I thought. Or maybe it was more inborn knowledge that Kel had mentioned, bred in my blood and bone from the genes I carried.

/>   “Shall we?” I ignored the obeisance.

  With unpracticed hands, I lifted my skirts and followed Greydusk. Gilder had gone at some point, leaving another hauntingly exquisite Luren in his place. This one was darkness with an inky river of hair and eyes that shone like polished obsidian in his dusky face. I swept past with less than half a glance; that was the way I had to roll here. In Sheol, I might find land mines everywhere.

  Greydusk did not greet him, so I passed down the hall in silence. When we reached the imposing double doors, the demon paused. “Remember my warnings. Agree to nothing. You must bargain with her for sufficient freedom to investigate the city and find your friend or she will hold you as her benign hostage.”

  “For how long?”

  The Imaron replied gravely, “Until your will is no longer your own.”

  That was an insidious thought. Sybella didn’t need to move against me. She could just keep me here, close to her, gradually becoming seduced by the constant exposure to heady demon magick. Eventually, my will would falter, and given my performance at the Chasm of Despair, I imagined it wouldn’t take long.

  Our time’s limited. Good to know.

  I puffed out a fortifying breath and gestured for the demon to show me in. Instead, Greydusk threw open the doors and boomed in an impressive voice, “To the assembled august personages of the Luren court, I present to you Her Highness, Corine Solomon, the Once and Future Queen, now and forever more, the Binder!”

  What. The. Fuck.

  With an introduction like that, I had no choice but to put some swagger in my step. I entered the room bareheaded, chin high, and I was thunderstruck to find myself surrounded by Luren. The aura was dizzying, so strong I almost blacked out from the collective sensual overload, but the charm bracelet Tia had given me pulsed on my arm. Pain lashed up to my elbow, but it also settled my head. Likely it wasn’t supposed to work that way, but magick never hit dead center where I was concerned. Things went wrong or backward; at the moment, I was grateful I could think.

  This was Sybella’s version of an ambush, then. In confronting me with the assembled might of her court, she’d calculated that I would buckle and I’d be her slave—one way or another—by the time I left this room. And without Tia’s help, it might’ve gone down like that.