A Fistful of Charms (37 page)

So maybe I
had
wanted her to bite me even before I moved in with her. That did mean I needed a subliminal feeling of danger to become passionate. Nobody was that screwed up.

“Thanks for helping me,” I said, trying to work up to what I wanted to say. “With Ivy.”

Jenks shrugged. Shifting position, he pulled himself together and watched the pixies with a professional interest. “What was I supposed to do? Walk away?”

I looked at my half-eaten cookie. Nick might have. Nick almost did the first time I had goaded Ivy into trying to bite me. Until I said no to her and she insisted. Then he stepped in to help. Looking back on the incident, it seemed obvious I had been jonesing for a bite.

“Sorry,” I said, thinking of how tenuous I'd made everything. “I wasn't thinking.”

Making a rude snort, he crossed his legs. “Do tell, Miss witch princess,” he said. “Ivy was handling it, and you go and get curious, tipping her into all but killing you. Bloody hell! When are you going to stop being afraid of yourself?”

I ate a bite of cookie, a big one this time. “I'm scared,” I said after I forced it down, dry.

“We're fine,” Jenks said loudly, his eyes on the hanging flowers and clearly not knowing where my thoughts were. “We're all fine. Ivy said she isn't going to bite you again. We'll go out for pizza at Piscary's when we get home, and everything will return to normal. You're safer now than your first night spent under the same roof.”

I put the last of the cookie in my mouth, nervously folding
the crumbs up into the napkin. Jenks was probably right about Ivy never again initiating a bite between us. But she hadn't initiated the first one either. The thing was, I didn't want everything to return to normal.

Jenks swiveled to face me. “Ah, you are too scared to let her bite you again, right?”

A slow breath slipped past my lips and adrenaline zinged through me, pushed by fear. It was a feeling I was beginning to understand.
I didn't need fear to feel passion. I didn't.

“Crap on my daisies,” Jenks breathed. “You aren't. Rache…”

Frightened, I shifted to put my elbows on my knees, wadding the napkin up and squishing it as if it was my shame. “I'm in trouble,” I whispered. “She didn't bind me, but she may as well have.”

“Rache…” It was soft and pensive, and it ticked me off.

“Just listen, will you?” I snapped, then slumped back, squinting into the sun as I looked at nothing. My throat was tight, and I shoved the napkin in a pocket. “I…I learned something about myself. And I'm scared it's going to kill me if I ignore it. It's just…God! How could I be that blind about myself?”

“It might be the vamp pheromones,” Jenks coaxed. “You aren't necessarily attracted to women just because you want to sleep with Ivy.”

My eyes widened and I turned to him, shocking myself that he was still wearing that disguise and only his eyes looked like him. “I don't want to sleep with Ivy!” I said, flustered. “I'm straight. I…” I took a deep breath, afraid to admit it aloud. “I want to try to find a blood balance with her.”

“You what?” Jenks blurted, and I sent my gaze to the people around us to remind him we weren't alone. “She would have killed you!” he said, hushed now, but no less intense.

“Only because I asked her to ignore her feelings for me.” Flustered, I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind an ear. “Only because I let her bite me without the buffer of emotion that she uses to control her hunger.”

Jenks leaned closer, his curls flashing blond in the sun for an instant as his disguise charm bobbled. “But you're straight,” he said. “You just said you were.”

Blushing, I pulled the bag that had the fudge in it closer. Hunger gnawed at my middle—thanks to the Brimstone—and I dug for the little white box. “Yeah,” I said, uncomfortable as I remembered her gentle touch on me growing intimate when she misunderstood. “But after yesterday, it's pretty obvious she
can
share blood without the sex.” I darted a look at him, even as a shiver rose through me, unstoppable, at the reminder of how good it had felt.

“And she almost killed you trying,” Jenks protested. “Rache, she is still messed up, and this is too much, even for you. She can't do it. You're not physically or mentally strong enough to keep her under control if she loses it again.”

I hunched in worry, hiding my concern in trying to get the taped box open. “So we go slow,” I said, wrenching the thin white cardboard to no avail. “Work up to it, maybe.”

“Why?” Jenks exclaimed softly, his brow pinched in worry. “Why risk it?”

At that, I closed my eyes in a slow rueful blink. Crap. Maybe Ivy was right. Maybe this was just another way to fill my life with excitement and passion. But then I remembered our auras mixing, the desperation her soul was drowning in, and how I had eased her pain—if only for an instant.

“It felt good, Jenks,” I whispered, shocked to find my vision blurring with unshed tears. “I'm not talking about the blood ecstasy. I'm talking about my being able to fill that emotional void she has. You know her as well as I do, maybe better. She aches with it. She needs to be accepted for who she is so badly. And I was able to do that. Do you know how good that felt? To be able to show someone that, yes, you are someone worth sacrificing for? That you like them for their faults and that you respect them for their ability to rise above them?”

Jenks was staring at me, and I sniffed back the tears. “Damn,” I whispered, terrified all of a sudden. “Maybe it is love.”

Reaching slowly, Jenks took the box of fudge from me. Twisting to a pocket, he flipped open a knife and cut the tape. Still silent, he handed me the open box and tucked the knife away. “Are you sure about this?” he asked worriedly.

I nodded, cutting a slab of fudge off with that stupid little plastic knife they put in with it. “God help me if I'm wrong, but I trust her. I trust her to find a way to make it work and not kill me in the process. I want it to work.”

He fidgeted. “Have you considered this might be a knee-jerk reaction to Nick?” he said. “Are you trusting Ivy now because Nick hurt you and you simply want to trust somebody?”

I exhaled slowly. I'd already mulled that around in my head, trying it on and dismissing it. “I don't think so,” I said softly.

Jenks reclined against the bench, pensive. Thoughtful myself, I put the bite of fudge in my mouth and let it dissolve. It was butterscotch in salute to Ivy's new “allergy,” but I hardly tasted it. Silent, I handed him the box of candy.

“Well,” Jenks said, ignoring the knife and just breaking off a piece. “At least you aren't doing this because of your oh-so-endearing need to mix danger with passion. At least it better not be, or I'll pix you from here to the day you die for using Ivy like that.”

Endearing need…
My neck throbbed when I jerked upright, choking as I swallowed. “I beg your pardon?”

He looked at me, eyebrows high and the sun glinting on his disguise-black hair. “You do the damnedest things in order to rile yourself up. Most people settle for doing it in an elevator, but not you. No, you have to make sure it's a vampire you're playing kissy-face with.”

Heat washed through me, pulled by anger and embarrassment. Ivy had said the same thing. “I do not!”

“Rache,” he cajoled, sitting up to match my posture. “Look at yourself. You're an adrenaline junkie. You not only need danger to make good in the bedroom, you need it to get through your normal day.”

“Shut up!” I shouted, giving him a backhanded thwack on his shoulder. “I like adventure, that's all.”

But he laughed at me, eyes dancing in delight as he broke off another chunk of fudge. “Adventure?” he said around his full mouth. “You keep making stupid decisions that will get you into just enough trouble that there might be the chance you can't get yourself out of. Being your safety net has been more fun than all my years at the I.S.”

“I do not!” I protested again.

“Look at yourself,” he said, head bowed over the fudge box again. “Look at yourself right now. You're half dead from blood loss, and you're out shopping. These disguises look great, but that's all they are: thin sheets of maybe standing between you and trouble.”

“It's the Brimstone,” I protested, taking the box of fudge out of his hands and closing it up. “It makes you feel indestructible. Makes you do stupid things.”

He glanced from the white box to me. “Brimstone doesn't have you out here,” he said. “It's your recurring lame-decision patterns that have you out here. Living in a church with a vampire, Rache? Dating a guy who summons demons? Bumping uglies with a vampire? Those caps Kisten wears won't mean crap if he loses control, and you know it. You've been flirting with being bitten for the last year, putting yourself in situation after situation where it might happen, and the first time you get Ivy out of Piscary's influence, what do you do? Manipulate her into it. You're an adrenaline addict, but at least you're making money off it.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed, then lowered my voice when two passing women glanced at us. “Ivy had something to do with yesterday.”

Jenks shrugged, extending his legs and clasping his hands behind his head. “Yeah. She did come up here after you. 'Course, I think part of that was her knowing you might take the opportunity after you did jumping jacks in Kisten's sweats. It didn't take much convincing on her part to bite
you, did it? Nah, you were primed and ready to go, and she knew it.”

Damn it, he was laughing at me. My brow furrowed, and I shoved the fudge back in a bag and out of his reach. I was not that stupid. I did
not
live my life trying to get into trouble just so I could have a good time in bed.

“I always have a good reason for the things I do,” I said, peeved. “And my decisions don't hinge on what might put excitement in my life. But since I quit the I.S., I've never had the chance to make good decisions—I'm always scrambling just to stay alive. Do you think I don't want the little charm shop? The husband and two-point-two kids? A normal house with the fence and the dog that digs up my neighbor's yard and chases their cat into a tree?”

Jenks's gaze was even and calm, wise and even a bit sad. The wind ruffled his hair, and the sound of the pixies grew obvious. “No,” he said. “I don't think you do.” I glared, and he added, “I think it would kill you quicker than going to see Piscary wearing gothic lace. I think managing to find a blood balance with Ivy is going to be the only way you're going to survive. Besides…” He grinned impishly. “…no one but Ivy will put up with the things you need or the crap you dish out.”

“Thanks a hell of a lot,” I muttered, slumping with my arms crossed over my chest. Depressed, I stared at the pixies, then did a double take when I realized they'd killed the hummingbird and were gathering the feathers.
Crap, pixies were wicked when threatened.
“I am not that hard to live with.”

Jenks laughed loudly, and I glanced at him, drawn by the different sound. “What about your upcoming demand to be free to sleep with whoever you damn well please while sharing blood with her, knowing she'd rather have you sleep with her?” he asked.

“Shut up,” I said, embarrassed because that was one of the things I had on my list to talk to Ivy about. “She knows I'm never going to sleep with her.”

The man passing us turned, then whispered something to his girlfriend, who promptly eyed me as well. I grimaced at them, glad I was wearing a disguise.

“It takes an incredibly strong person to walk away from someone they love,” Jenks said, holding up two fingers as if making a list. “Especially knowing they will do something asinine, like shopping when their blood count is so low they ought to be in the hospital. You should give her credit for respecting you like that.”

“Hey,” I exclaimed, annoyed. “You said she wouldn't mind.”

Grinning, he slid down a few feet. “Actually I said what she doesn't know won't hurt you.” He put up a third finger. “You leave windows open when the heat is on.”

A family of three walked past, the kids like stairsteps and noisy with life. I watched them pass, thinking they were the future I had been working for, just walking away and leaving me behind.
Was that a problem?
“I like fresh air,” I protested, gathering up my things. It was time to leave.

“You're a whiner too,” Jenks said. “I've never
seen
anyone so pathetic when you're sick. ‘Where's my pain amulet? Where's my coffee?' God almighty, I thought I was bad.”

I stood, feeling renewed from the Brimstone boost. It was a false strength, but it was there nevertheless. “Put down your fingers, Jenks, or I'm going to break them off and shove them somewhere.”

Jenks stood as well, tugging his aviator jacket straight. “You bring home demon familiars. ‘Oh isn't she sweet?'” he said in a high falsetto. “‘Can we keep her?'”

I hiked my shoulder bag up higher, feeling the comfortable weight of my splat gun inside. “Are you saying I should have let Al kill Ceri?” I said dryly.

Laughing, he gathered up his sundry bags, consolidating them into two. “No. I'm saying that it takes a very strong person to let
you
be
you
. I can't think of anyone better than Ivy.”

My breath escaped me in a huff. “Well I'm glad we have your blessing.”

Jenks snorted, his gaze going over the heads of the tourists to the archway and the parking lot where the car was. “Yeah, you got my blessing, and you've got my warning too.”

I looked at him, but he wasn't paying me any attention, scanning the area now that we were ready to move again.

“If you think living with Ivy and trying to avoid getting bitten was difficult, wait until you try living with her while trying to find a blood balance. This isn't an easier road, Rache,” he said, gaze distant and unaware of the worry he was starting in me. “It's a harder one. And you're going to be hurting all the way along it.”