Chapter 5 #3
Sean obeyed, though he wondered why. He was safe now, right? The sunglasses hid half his face.
These women were clearly embroiled in some nasty shit, and he wanted no part of it. Curiosity was one thing, but his wrist required medical attention and he likely needed stitches.
“Sean,” Cole whispered. “What are we doing? Who are these people?”
He shook his head and stripped off his disguise. “Hey,” he said to the women. “Thanks for…whatever that was, but I think we’re going to head back to our room.”
Then get the hell out of this city, he didn’t say.
Isobel’s hand darted out and gripped his undamaged wrist. Her normal-appearing skin, a few shades lighter than his own, burned like acid, cold and fiery at the same time.
What the—
In that singular moment, Sean wanted nothing more than her painful, searing touch. If she never let him go, it would be too soon.
She was some sort of heavenly nightmare, this girl. Beauty coated in peril. Lethal attraction. Maybe she was the demon, and the Purple Eyes were the good guys.
It didn’t matter though. He’d follow her straight to hell if that was where she led him.
She took off her fedora, and auburn curls the same color as Cole’s spilled around her shoulders. Emerald-green eyes flashed his way. “You can’t go.”
No. He couldn’t. It was madness to stay—the idiotic whims of a drunk man intoxicated by beauty—but he couldn’t go. He was drowning in the sense he’d been waiting for her his whole life. Maybe even longer.
She had answers. He knew it.
“Sean.” Cole tugged on his sleeve. “Come on. You need a doctor.”
Sean focused on his bruised wrist, then the blood staining his torn shirt. “He’s right—”
“No, he’s not,” Isobel said.
Before he could react, before he could even breathe, the lovely, nightmarish woman stretched onto her tiptoes, curled one burning hand around his neck, and pulled him down until her lips met his.
Surprise gave way to flares of heat, igniting through his body like signal fires, warning of an oncoming attack.
Was this how it was supposed to be?
In all his life, he’d had no meaningful kisses.
Dares. High school parties he’d crashed with Cole.
Drunk girls. A couple guys just to see. In his life, Sean’d had opportunities to kiss, to do more than kiss, but he’d never wanted to.
Not once. Not with women. Not with men. He’d spent entire evenings on the internet, deep into forums and medical journals, and finally hardcore porn sites, searching for a reason for his asexuality.
He’d found none.
Because he’d never found her.
At the touch of her lips, he learned to believe in magic.
He moved on instinct, hunting for a way to bring her closer.
In the middle of this crowded, bedazzled casino, he ignored Cole’s dumbfounded questions, grasped this girl’s waist, and pulled until she pressed against him, every curve of her elegant body molded to his.
Her fingers curled through his hair, fingernails scratching his skin.
The taste of her reached deep into his consciousness. It touched on an intimate familiarity that made no sense. He’d been here before. He was sure of it. He just…couldn’t remember.
She was the answer to every question he’d ever asked. She was the key to everything. Relief like he’d never known washed over him for five, maybe ten seconds.
And then…agony.
The pleasure twined irrevocably with pain. Cold fire spread fast through every nerve.
He jerked away, pushing her from him like she was poison. Everything flipped on its head—his beliefs, his reality, his very self. He thought he might throw up.
She glanced at her arm, where the mirror of his own knife wound stitched together seamlessly.
“You’re fixed,” she said, voice faint, and pointed at his injured wrist.
Stone-cold sober, his gaze dropped, and he flexed his hand. No pain lanced through his arm. The swelling had disappeared. The cut near his elbow vanished. Dried blood served as the only evidence it had existed at all. In his chest, something squeezed too tight. Each heartbeat ached like a bruise.
Cole grabbed his wrist. “What the hell?” He looked at Isobel. “What are you?”
She ignored him, her gaze steady on Sean’s. “You can’t leave.”
Sean had no words. Instead, he searched Cole’s shocked eyes—Cole, who was closer than a brother, who’d been there from his earliest memories, who’d never leave his side no matter where Sean chose to go.
“I have to go with her.”
“But—” Cole switched his bewildered gaze to Isobel. “What just happened?”
“We really have to go,” Autumn said, bouncing on her feet. “There are hundreds of them in here. Your face is infamous. They’ll notice us any moment.”
Too overwhelmed to ask why he was infamous, Sean merely followed, Cole close behind. Neither of them spoke as the women led them to a black SUV, driven by a guy with dark, curly hair.
When Sean slipped into his seat after Cole, the dude did a double take, his eyes widening comically.
“Ashanta,” he said in a voice that almost…shimmered? He dropped his head and tapped two fingers on his temple.
“Just drive, Gio,” Autumn said. “Get us out of here.”