Элисон Ноэль - Dark Flame

"Listen," I say, back in my seat. "I know you're tired, and I know you probably want to get as far from me as you possibly can, as quickly as you can, and I can't say I blame you. I mean, if I were you, I'd feel the same way. But still, if you could just spare me a few more seconds of your time, I'd really like a chance to explain."

He mumbles under his breath, gazing out the window for a moment before shifting toward me in a way that allows for his full, undivided attention.

And knowing I have to move fast, that he's prepared to allow me a few seconds and no more, I say, "Listen, it's like this-I mean, I know it sounds crazy, and I really can't go into all the details, but you have to trust me when I say I had really good reason to think you were one of them."

He closes his eyes for a moment, brows squinched with pain, looking at me when he says, "A rogue. Yeah. You've made your point, Ever. Made it abundantly clear, remember?"

He glances between his injured arms and me.

I scrunch my nose and rub my lips together, knowing this next part probably won't go over any better, but still forging ahead when I say, "Yeah, well, you see, the thing is-I thought you were evil. Seriously. It's the only reason I did what I did. I mean, I saw your tattoo-and-I have to say it was pretty convincing-well, except for the fact that it didn't flash or blink or anything like that-but still, that, coupled with the fact that Ava called, and, well, some other stuff I can't exactly get into, but anyway, all of that made me think that you-" I shake my head, knowing I'm not getting anywhere with this and choosing to just drop it, abandon it for something that's been niggling at me ever since we left the hospital. "You know, if you're so mad at me, if you hate me so much, then why'd you help me back there? Why'd you lie to those cops and take all the blame? I mean, I'm the one who hurt you, we both know I did it, heck, even they knew I did it. But still, you totally blew your big chance to get me cuffed and hauled away and thrown into the slammer when you lied on my behalf. And to be honest, I just don't get it."

He shuts his eyes again and tilts his head back, his pain and fatigue so palpable I'm about to call it off, about to tell him never mind, just go inside and get some rest, when he levels those amazing green eyes right on mine and says, "Listen, Ever, here's the thing-as crazy as it sounds, I'm a lot less interested in why you did it, than how you did it."

I look at him, fingers gripping the steering wheel, unable to speak.

"How you tossed me like a Frisbee across your backyard-" I swallow hard, eyes fixed straight ahead, not saying a word.

"And how one moment you were standing before me, hands empty, no pockets in sight-and the next thing I know you're wielding a double-edged, jewel-handled knife-that-by the way-seemed to disappear just after you attacked me-am I right?"

I take a deep breath and nod. There's no use lying now.

"And then there's the small fact that you started this car without a key-and I think we both know it's not that kind of car-that this particular model definitely requires one. And let's not forget about the first day when I found you in the store, despite the fact that the door was locked, not to mention how quickly you found The Book of Shadows, which was also protected by a lock. So, forget all the rest, forget the apologies and explanations and all of that nonsense, what's done is done, there's no going back. All I want now is for you to explain the how. That's all I'm really interested in."

I glance at him, swallowing hard, unsure how to proceed.

Attempting a feeble joke when I say, "Okay, but first, tell me, have those pain meds kicked in yet?" Chasing it with this horrible laugh that only succeeds in making him mad.

"Listen, Ever, if you ever decide to get honest, you know where I live. Otherwise-" He tries to open the door, tries for the big, bold, dramatic exit, but with both arms bandaged, it's not as easy as it seems.

So I jump from my side to his, appearing beside him well before he can blink and hoping he doesn't view it as a threat to his masculinity when I say, "Here-allow me."

But he just stays seated, sighing and shaking his head as he says, "And then of course, there's that-" Our eyes meet and I suck in my breath.

"The way you move as quickly and gracefully as a jungle cat."

I stand there, silent and still, unsure what comes next.

"So, you gonna help me or not?" he asks, raising a single spliced brow.

I nod, going through the motions of opening his door and offering my arm for support, sensing how weakened he is the moment he leans his weight onto me.

"Can you get the front door too?"

"Of course." I nod, looking at him. "Just hand over the keys."

His eyes graze over me. "Since when do you need a key?"

I shrug, heading down the narrow, softly lighted path that leads to his door, taking in an amazing array of vibrant pink and purple peonies when I say, "I had no idea you had such a green thumb."

"I don't. Well, not really. Lina planted everything. I just maintain it. We grow most of the herbs for the store right here." He motions toward the door, obviously tired of this, tired of me, eager to just get inside and be done with all this.

So I close my eyes, seeing the door open before me until I hear that unmistakable click and wave him right in. Then I stand there like an idiot, performing this ridiculous little half wave, like I just dropped him off after a really nice picnic.

Reluctant to move even after he shakes his head and motions me in, requiring a firm, verbal invite before I venture any farther.

"You gonna attack me again?" His gaze sails over me, filling me with a wave of nice, languid calm.

"Only if you get out of hand." I shrug.

"Was that a pun?" He squints, his lips curving ever so slightly.

I laugh. "Yes, and a really bad one at that."

He leans against the doorjamb, looking me over slowly, leisurely, taking a long deep breath before he says, "Listen, I hate to admit this, especially to you of all people, since you've pretty much emasculated me enough for one lifetime, but I might need a little help getting set up. The meds are kicking in and I wasn't much good when I was sober and one-handed, so I can't imagine how I'll fare now. It'll only take a minute, two at the most, and then you can get back to Damen and on with your night."

I frown, wondering why he just said that. Switching on the lights and closing the door behind me as I follow him inside, gazing around the small cozy space, amazed to find myself inside a real, authentic Laguna Beach cottage. The kind with old brick fireplaces and large picture windows. The kind you don't see in these parts anymore.

"Cool, isn't it?" He nods, reading my face. "It was built in

1958. Lina picked it up cheap, a long time ago, before all the money and reality shows rolled in."

I head for the sliding glass door that leads to a nice brick patio that leads to a steep grassy slope, a set of stairs, and a slightly moonlit ocean beyond.

"She rents it to me cheap, but my dream is to buy it someday. She says she'll only sell if I promise not to turn it into yet another Tuscan-style duplex. As if." He laughs.

I turn away from the window and wander into his kitchen, flicking on a light and opening a few cupboards until I find the one containing a set of drinking glasses. Looking around, searching for a bottle of water, only to find him standing so close I can make out each individual fleck in his eyes.

"Isn't it easier to just manifest it?" he says, voice thick, low, deep.

I gaze at him, not sure what I'm bothered by more, his intimate proximity, the longing in his tone, or the way he was able to sneak up on me.

"I–I thought I'd just get it the old-fashioned way-if that's okay? Guaranteed to taste the same," I mumble, the words clumsy on my lips, hoping he's too hopped up on pain medication to see just how much his nearness is affecting me.