House of Slide Hybrid (11 page)

I stared at him, blank for a moment while I studied his strong features. It was laughable, particularly when I’d seen myself, tough, tattooed, and still incapable of killing him, although I had tried. Maybe it wasn’t laughable.

“Well, since we’re talking about an unstable Hybrid, his reasons are probably not quite rational, right?” I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. “I was convinced that he really wanted Old Peter’s cane though. He felt desperate.” My leaning was practically useless if I couldn’t feel that.

Lewis shook his head, still close enough that I could have touched him if I stretched out my hand, but I didn’t. “Aiden always wants the cane, but Old Peter made sure that Aiden can’t touch it with the runes he put on it.” Lewis touched my arm with warmth I could feel through the coat, but it only made me shiver more. “So you don’t feel any violent urges towards me? No, you don’t,” he said and sounded almost disappointed as he studied me intently then turned away, setting the knife on the nearest unbroken shelf.

Wait a minute. He was talking about the blood bond. Were my veins burning even if I couldn’t feel them? How was he doing with the discomfort? He seemed so in control, not like he wanted whatever he wanted when his veins burned for me. I felt heat in my face as I thought how unlikely it was that he burned for me.

“How well can you lean?” he asked as he bent to retrieve a metal bar that had rolled to the edge of the mess. He acted so normal, like me showing up while a momentary surprise wasn’t a very big deal.

I watched him place the bar beside the knife then I stepped forward to help with the cleaning. Maybe that would be the most normal thing to do. I picked up a weird metal thing with tubes coming out of it that seemed to hum in my hand. Lewis turned to me, looked at the strange tool then up at me, eyes widening slightly.

“I don’t know enough. I spend a lot of time blocking my unintentional leaning. I don’t know how you leaned so well with my soul. Where should I put this…thing?”

His smile was a sudden thing, a flicker of impossible beauty that quickly disappeared. “That is a bloodworking instrument. Where do you think those should go?”

I felt a little nauseous as I looked down at the innocent if strange looking object. “Probably on shelves further from the cars since you’ll need those for the normal tools. You’re going to need new shelves.”

“That is a good point,” he said slowly reaching for the thing, carefully pulling it out of my fingers without touching any of the tubes, but the feel of his hands on my skin made me shiver again. “It has occurred to me that cleaning my garage might be dangerous for you.”

He tossed it onto the shelf beside the knife and the pipe then took a step towards me that made me stumble back. His hand caught my arm, steadying me even as he took another step that forced me away from the mess. The next step was more like dancing since I finally expected the direction and force of his movement. I forgot everything else as I moved with him, sharing his energy if only for a moment. He took another step and another until we were beside the counter that ran along the end of the room before he let go of my arm and turned away.

He dropped down to open a cupboard and search inside for something while I stood there, staring at him. Even the top of his head was stare-worthy.

When he stood with an old pot in his hand I jumped. He kept moving so suddenly, changing direction, acting instead of talking. He filled the pot with water from his sink, a sink with a long gooseneck spout that would be much better for washing hair than the sink in the mall.

I remembered that it wasn’t polite to stare by the time the pot was full and he turned away to place it onto a heating coil with a thick black cord leading to the wall. If this room had been all white like Grim’s the cord would have stood out but here the counter was discolored gray instead of white, the cupboards below a mishmash of doors that didn’t match or even seem like the same material. Paint colored everything, streaks and splashes that reminded me of my Axel painting, that Lewis was the master, the bloodworker that I didn’t know. I seemed to forget everything when he looked at me.

“Are you making me tea?” I asked to fill the vibrating silence between us. I studied his broad shoulders beneath his t-shirt fabric as he stood in front of the coil, paying close attention to the water that wasn’t boiling. The sizzling as the coil heated and evaporated water from the damp pan filled the air.

“Not tea. Hot chocolate. Have you heard of the Dissonant Porpoises?”

I blinked as he glanced over his shoulder at me. “Dissonant what?”

“They’re a band that I think you’d like,” he explained, turning to lean against the counter with his arms crossed. He looked relaxed, but it seemed studied instead of natural. “I really liked them when I had your soul. Without it, they’re still okay but not the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. They’re having a concert next week. I could take you.”

My mouth went dry and my hands trembled. If Lewis, the old Lewis had asked me, I would have understood that he’d asked me on a date, or just a friends thing, but this person, Lewis Axel Nialls wasn’t the kind of person to ask me anywhere, much less to a concert with lots of people and lights to blow up. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea of dating this monstrous ball of heat and life. Sitting beside him in a movie theater would make my date with Osmond look like a walk in the park. I turned my head and saw the sink again.

“I really like your sink.” I swallowed, hating my awkward words. “It’s much better than the one at the mall. I don’t think I did a very good job washing out the dye, or the bleach.” He could see how bad my hair looked. Snowy was right. I never should have messed with my nice brown hair. It had been pretty if boring.

“Do you think my hair will fall out? Snowy thinks it will, or maybe she hopes it will, you know, karma’s punishment for me doing something so weird. That would be fun though, I mean, I could hang out with Satan and smoke cigars. We’d be practically twins.” I choked on my laugh, daring to glance at him over my shoulder. He had no smile to soften the intensity of his gaze. I quickly faced the sink, turned on the water and thought of my father, so much like that water, pure, clear, knowing exactly what direction to run, except that he’d run away from his family, his soul mate, me.

I ducked under the faucet, needing the water to drown out my thoughts, the awareness that Lewis my soulmate was so close but impossible for me to really understand or know. I shouldn’t be here with him, even if I wanted to so much that I could barely hold myself together. When he put his hands on my head, warm, strong hands, I shuddered and closed my eyes, trying to picture my mother rubbing her hands over my scalp like she used to do when I was little, but his hands were different, larger, warmer. He tugged my coat off brushing my too small t-shirt at my shoulders. The heat spread down my arms to my hands where they clung to the edge of the counter.

I focused on breathing, in, out, in, out while Lewis pushed his fingers through my wet hair, rubbing my ear, the top of my forehead where I’d stained it blue. He shouldn’t have touched me like that, not when I could barely breathe, trapped between the counter and him while his heat pressed into me.

My back ached from bending, from staying so still until he finally turned off the water. He ran his hands over my hair, squeezing out the water before he finally stepped back, giving me a chance to get it together. I stayed there for another moment, blinking the water from my eyes before I straightened, still hanging onto the counter.

The sound of clinking turned my head. He dumped brown powder into two cream colored mugs, both of them chipped and cracked. I’d forgotten about the boiling water. He moved with ridiculous grace for someone making hot cocoa, the muscles beneath his T-shirt fascinating as he poured the boiling water into the cups.

I gave him my most cheerful smile when he handed me my cup.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to wash my hair.”

He didn’t look like the kind of person who washed hair and went to concerts. He looked like a dangerous Bloodworker who had no business asking me on a date. Snowy was right. He was not Lewis, not some dreamy crush-worthy classmate, he was dangerous, deadly, older than most Hotbloods and seriously invested in my blood after I’d given him a sample.

His eyes when they focused on me burned a little more golden than before, but maybe it was just me. He took a quick sip then put the mug on the counter. “You’re freezing.” He stepped towards me.

I jumped, sloshing on my hand. I barely registered the pain before he had my mug away from me and my hand back under running water, cold this time.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered, too close to his chest as he reached past me, seeming to focus on my hand, but his side brushed mine, only two t-shirts separating skin. How was I supposed to think, to keep space when his t-shirt intoxicated me?

“I move too fast without thinking,” he said in a low voice beside my ear.

I shivered as his warm breath heated my skin. My teeth chattered as I stood, unsure whether I was too hot or too cold, too close to Lewis.

He turned off the water as he held my hand loosely in his warm grip. “I want to warm you up before you leave. Can I touch your hair?”

I opened my mouth to say no, but instead gave a jerky nod and held my breath as he ran his hands through my hair, slowly and methodically until steam wisped up, swirls that rose as he combed my hair with his fingers.

“You’re drying my hair,” I said to his chest as steam rose around us. His focus stayed on my hair, the blue against his strong hands strangely appropriate, like my hair belonged in his hands whatever color it was. No. I couldn’t think things like that. Not when I didn’t really know him. Not when I couldn’t trust him.

“I don’t want you to catch pneumonia on your walk back when you go. You didn’t answer me about the concert. I take it you’re not interested.”

I swallowed hard, trapped by those scarred hands, stronger and gentler than anyone else I knew. I wanted more than anything in the world to put my head on the shoulder that was so close, so solid looking and close my eyes. I forced myself to stand up straight and look at him in the eye.

“I can’t. I’m going to be really busy for a long time, but I shouldn’t see you anyway. I didn’t think you’d be here; I just had to come to find out if it was real or if it had all been a dream. You distract me so much that I can’t think. I never should have come.” My stomach twisted even as I shook my head. “It’s not far to Grim’s house; I’m sure I’ll be fine with wet hair. You don’t have to worry about me.”

His mouth was inches from mine. The realization came suddenly, like a kick to the stomach, that with little effort I could taste the life and heat of him. The shivering redoubled. I knew instinctively that if I kissed him, if I touched my lips to his, I would never leave.

I looked down, forcing myself to see the purple shirt that I’d put on so long ago. Had I really been in school giggling about Osmond that same day? Who was I? I should pick up my black, ugly, puffer coat, where it lay behind Lewis on the cold concrete and leave. My uncles would be here any moment, actually, they should have come already.

“I find it impossible not to worry about you,” he said quietly, still running hands through my damp hair.

I studied his arms. Old lines ran up and down them, scars from his Bloodworking probably, but nothing new, nothing recent.

He said in a low, husky voice, “You’re staying with Grim? He isn’t one I would like to fight. What a relief that he doesn’t mind you walking the streets at night in my neighborhood.”

I looked up at him, couldn’t help it, but it was a mistake. His eyes were too close to mine, his mouth in a curving smile that needed to be tasted. Where was that coming from? I wasn’t a kissing person. I wasn’t even a hand holding person.

“I snuck out,” I stammered. “I should get back before he realizes I’m gone. He might worry.”

Lewis kept his steady gaze on me, looking unsurprised by my confession. “And it’s doubtful that Aiden would be willing to divert your uncle for you to sneak out again. It’s a pity. I think that you really would like the band. Have you enjoyed finding out who you are with your own soul? I like the blue.”

I couldn’t breathe, not when every breath was so full of him, so close, warm but unflinching. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t be surprised by anything, wouldn’t be shocked if I told him the deepest darkest thing I could think of.

“Do you like blue? You don’t seem to use a lot of it in your work. I like sparkles, and ponies, but I’m sure you know that. You had my soul longer than I have. Why would you want to take me to a concert? You wouldn’t do that, would you? What do you really want?”

He smiled, a smile that didn’t touch his warm eyes, eyes that sparked gold as they glowed. I knew what he wanted without him saying anything. He wanted the knife he’d had out, ready for me to take, to use on him, to mix our blood together in an ancient ritual from another world.

“I have to go,” I gasped, feeling my heart-rate redouble.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said in a low voice trembling with his effort to control himself, to keep his hands steady on my hair even as his head lowered, closer to mine.

“Of course I have to go,” I said, pulling away from him, sliding against the counter, searching for something to look at besides him. My coat, on the floor behind him. Black. I needed my coat. I needed to put it on and walk away.