Page 15 of Hero & Villain
“Like the desert after a rain. Also, blood and pain.” He smiled with those soft brown eyes, and my heart started tripping.
“Is everything poetry with you? Also, smelling people is strange.”
“You started it. Also, I’m not interested in pretending normality. Normalcy? Normalness?”
“Normalness is definitely not a word.”
“I don’t think that the heatstroke victim gets to decide what is and isn’t real. You’re probably hallucinating this whole conversation.”
I pinched his ribs beneath his pinker-than-hot-pink t-shirt. Magenta? He had muscles on his muscles. What was I doing touching him like he was Toni? “Hopefully. What’s with the shirt? Did you plan on my fainting on you today and thought we should match? It’s not sunstroke; it’s the color of your shirt that knocked me out.”
He chuckled. “You’re the delusional one who needs pinching. I already know that I’m a hallucination. I’d pinch you, but it looks like you’ve had enough of that.” His face tightened, and a rush of humiliation had me tugging my sweatshirt off my waist and over my head.
“Not until March. I never wear green on St. Patty’s. It clashes with my eyes,” I said once I’d emerged from the black folds.
His strong brows rose over eyes that weren’t as soft as I remembered. “Neither do I. We’ll have a pinching war if you’re still in town.”
“Then you’ll have to buy me cake. My birthday’s in March.” I frowned. No, Toni’s birthday was in August. What was wrong with me? Maybe I really did have sunstroke.
He got up and went to a group near the door, still holding my backpack. He spoke for a few minutes to the larger-than-life performers while I sat in that cold room under the air conditioner. I should run away and try again after I had myself under control. I could seduce the most difficult man in Boston, but I didn’t do that by fawning over muscles or saying how good he smelled. An eight-year-old flirted like that. Yes, I’d just edge by them, snatch my backpack and then… No. I’d come this far. I wasn’t going to leave until I had his heart on a platter. Also, I wasn’t sure if I’d make it out the door without falling over.
Dirk came back towards me carrying a bottle of water. I snatched my bag as soon as he got close enough so I could use it as a shield. I watched him warily as he opened the bottle and held it under my nose until I took it.
“How do I know this isn’t poisoned?” I asked, sounding way too suspicious, not nearly demure and helpless enough.
He licked his lips and glanced down at my mouth for some reason. He took the bottle and swallowed before putting it to my mouth and tilting up. It was either swallow, drown, or spill all over Toni’s sweatshirt.
I swallowed, but I didn’t miss the glimmer in his eye, like he was thinking about our lips touching the same thing.
He lowered the bottle and straightened, frowning darkly. “You said that you’re Nitro’s cousin? The last time I saw you, the hair was green.”
“Aqua,” I corrected, scowling. When he frowned at me I felt very small and insignificant, the way I felt when my grandfather frowned at me. “That was at the funeral, the same one where you said that a place would always be available on your team. Youaren’t running the team, but you can still say a word for me, can’t you?”
“Why do you need anyone to speak for you? Why do you want to be in this god-forsaken place?”
“Because you’re the idiot who feels guilty about Nitro’s death. Because I need a place to stay while I figure out some things. Because I’m a weak, helpless damsel looking for a hero. That’s you, isn’t it?” So subtle. A siren should be blaring: ‘Evacuate!’
His jaw clenched before he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I haven’t saved anyone in a long time. Still, I am the idiot who got Nitro killed. It would be nice to exorcise some of that guilt. You can stay with me as long as your hair is pink.” His lips twitched for some unfathomable reason.
I self-consciously tugged on a cotton candy strand. “I don’t want to stay with you. I just want a job, but not that kind. Never again.” My stomach tightened, and the room tilted to the side. I nearly toppled over despite being in a sitting position.
He grabbed onto my shoulders, keeping me from tumbling to the floor. His eyes softened slightly as he carefully held me on the revolving couch. “You definitely have sunstroke. Have you gone to the hospital since the…accident?”
I blinked at him. “What accident?”
“The bruises all over your arms and legs. Isn’t an accident what women call abuse when they’re protecting their lovers?”
I blinked at him. I couldn’t say that it hadn’t been an accident because I’d beaten myself up on purpose. That would make me sound psychotic. It seemed psychotic to me in retrospect, and I’m the one who had done it. “Oh, no. I don’t like hospitals. They’re always asking annoying questions: what’s your name, who stabbed your friend, do you have insurance… It’s better to go to a vet. Do you know any vets?”
“Did I hear someone say they need a vet?” A blonde man with too many muscles for his tight t-shirt sauntered over to us, allsmooth smiles and charm. “I’m Nix. You must be Nitro’s cousin. It’s sure nice to meet you. What can I do for you?” His southern accent was soft, but his eyes were not. He’d be watching me the same way he watched everyone with those pale blue eyes. He held out his hand. I stared at him and then at the hand, like it might be rabid or something. He reminded me of Philippe, a beautiful shark that was all teeth.
A woman wearing enough makeup to be seen in the dark came over with a blinding white smile between her blood-red lips. “How cute. She’s overwhelmed with your southern charm and inordinate sex appeal.” She elbowed him to the side before she crouched down in front of me. “Hey, honey. I’m Jez. Don’t worry, we aren’t going to bite. Trix, on the other hand…” She winked at me with her long false lashes.
“Oh, the dragon. Does she bite or light people on fire?” I had no idea what I was talking about.
She snickered. “That depends entirely on the night. Did I hear that Dirk was trying to get you to go home with him? No one deserves such a fate. He won his house in a bad poker game. Poor thing has to pay taxes on the ugliest monstrosity that Las Vegas ever spawned, and that’s saying something.”
Dirk shot her a glare. “You’re the one who lost the game.”
