Touch If You Dare (33 page)

***

There was nothing like seeing one of your fellow torture victims to make everything feel hunky dory. Or at least it made the fast track toward explosion seem a little less lonely.

Keeping Rocco anchored on his shoulder, Jarvis held the door to his penthouse suite open for Reina.

Nigel was sunning himself on the patio, wearing nothing but a bandana around his throat. Scars raked across his abdomen, and there was a new painting of a red and gold phoenix emblazoned across his chest. The sun was making the gold sparkle as if the bird was actually taking a siesta on the chest of a psychotic warrior with sensitivity issues. “Hey, painter boy, we’re home. Is dinner ready?”

Nigel rolled to his feet with the grace of a tiger. “You bring the vamp with you?” His eyebrows shot up when he saw Reina, and he immediately filched his hard core leather pants off a nearby lounge. “Sorry, Reina. Didn’t realize he was bringing girls home with him already.”

“Girls?” She shot Jarvis a curious look. “No, just me, this time.”

“I don’t bring any girls home,” Jarvis muttered. “You’re my first, for hell’s sake.” Not that it mattered. Seriously. It wasn’t like they were dating. But he wanted to make it clear anyway, you know. Just
’
cause.

Reina said nothing, but he saw her mouth curve in a small smile. She was possessive of him? Huh. He didn’t really mind. Felt kinda good, actually.

But for good measure, he glared at Nigel anyway as he strode into his place. No need for the artist to interfere in Jarvis’s personal life. Then he saw Nigel’s concerned expression and his annoyance faded. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Are you?” Nigel took Rocco from Jarvis and slung him over his shoulder. “We need you. Don’t be an ass and get yourself killed. The boys would cry.”

Jarvis ground his jaw. “They’d party.”

“Yeah, sure they would.” Nigel gave him a long look. “You fight this mother fucker off,” he said quietly. “We’re not letting you go down now that you’re free. Just so you know.” Before Jarvis could answer, he began walking down the hall. “I’ll take a look at the kid. Stay here with Reina and find motivation to stay the fuck alive.” Nigel disappeared down the hall to the guest bedroom where they’d set up a sick bay.

Jarvis stared after them, unsettled by Nigel’s words. What did Nigel mean, they weren’t letting him go down? No way should his team be risking themselves to save him. Yeah, true, it was their code, but there were limits. Hell. He was going to have to dodge them and go solo, wasn’t he?

“They care about you,” Reina observed, sounding pleased.

Jarvis scowled and walked over to the fridge to get hydrated. “They’re loyal teammates.”

“No, it’s more than that.” She was studying him. “They know how dangerous you are, and they still care about you. You do realize that you couldn’t have so many people wanting you to live if you were nothing but hate, don’t you?”

He handed her a water bottle. “Let it go, Reina.”

Her mouth tightened as she took the drink, and he felt bad for rejecting her overture. But it was the right call. Her words made him want things to be different, and he couldn’t afford that.

Reina turned away, giving him her back. “Your place is interesting.”

She had her hands on her hips and was surveying his penthouse suite. Her shoulders were back and there was a determined jut to her chin. She wasn’t going down, and she wasn’t going to abandon him. Shit, he wasn’t going to go solo, was he? He had Reina with him, a woman he couldn’t contaminate. He didn’t have to be careful with her. He could simply be himself. She might not be a warrior, but she was his weapon, that was for damn sure. He needed her, and he couldn’t afford to piss her off enough to make her bail on him. So, he managed a decent smile of acknowledgement to her comment about his place, and he capitulated to meaningless, polite conversation as a silent apology for rejecting her overture. “I don’t like my place. It doesn’t feel right.”

Or it hadn’t. Not until Reina had been standing in the foyer. Suddenly, the skylights and floor to ceiling windows seemed to brighten. The wood floors seemed to be a richer color. The black leather couches looked softer.

“There’s something wrong with it. I’m glad you feel it.” She studied the room more carefully, her forehead wrinkled in a cute little frown as her feet sank into his plush carpet and she turned in place. “This place has no passion,” she said. “It’s empty. Cold.” She cocked her head. “You need passion. A fire in the soul.”

He snorted as he grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge one of the boys had set up in his living room. Water wasn’t cutting it. “Screw that. I got enough shit in my soul already.”

“Not that kind of passion,” Reina said thoughtfully. “Positive, energizing passion. Love.”

Jarvis paused at her words. Thought about it. Was that what he needed? It actually sounded appealing… oh, who was he kidding? “That’s not my avenue.”

“It is.” She ignored him and walked over to the painting he’d hung over the couch. It was a stark black and white modern art painting of who knew what. Just lines and shit. “This is how you see yourself.”

Jarvis took a swig of the beer, surprised by how much he liked seeing her leaning on his couch. A woman in his home. Felt right. Made his place feel better. “It’s a painting.”

“No, it’s you.” She trailed her finger over a thick, jagged black line, and Jarvis could almost feel his skin prickle as he imagined that same finger running down his arm. “Did you pick this out?”

He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “I just picked it randomly.”

“No.” She trailed her finger down another black line. “See all that black? And the white? That’s you. The black is your hate. The white is your soul. Fighting each other. Struggling for supremacy. Who wins? This painting is about conflict.”

Jarvis frowned at the decor. The jumble of black and white lines were jagged and sharp. Bold. Angry. White lines dominating black ones. Black ones cutting off white ones. Suddenly, he saw it as she did. A battle. Good versus evil. Toughness and conflict. Nothing at ease. Nothing peaceful. “It’s just a painting.” But even as he said it, he wanted to take it down. Burn it.

“Art is never just art. It always means something to those who respond to it.” She grabbed the edges and lifted it down. “This is bad energy. You don’t need it. It has to go.” She tucked it under her arm. “I’ve learned that it helps to put positive energy into my life. Sometimes it’s all that kept me going.”

Jarvis could have stopped her from interfering in his life. But all he felt was relief when she carried it out onto the patio and set it out of sight. The wall looked empty now. Barren. But better. He realized suddenly that the painting was why he’d never sat on his couch. It had loomed over him, and now it was gone. It was better.

Reina walked back inside, carrying a large piece of paper. “Nigel was drawing this outside. This is what you need.” She held it up, and he saw it was a drawing of a large green field, populated with pink and yellow flowers. All different shades of pinks and yellows.

He frowned, not liking how it reminded him of the forced decor in the Den. “I’m not a flower guy.”

She ignored him and propped the painting on the back of the couch. “This feels better,” she said. “I couldn’t handle that other one. This reminds me of the backyard of our house growing up. I used to play out there with my sisters. We used to try to catch butterflies.” She held up her hand to him. “Come feel this art,” she said. “Come feel the difference.”

“We have to go—”

“For one minute,” she said. “This is important. Come here.”

Grumbling, but drawn by a need to accept any excuse to touch her, Jarvis walked up beside her and let her take his hand. She gestured to the painting. “Can you see us? Playing there? Laughing?”

“No—” Jarvis had a sudden vision of Reina cavorting through the fields with butterflies. Lighthearted and free, before life had dealt her a tough hand. “Shit. I can.”

“What else do you see? For yourself?”

He frowned and studied the art. “It’s just—” Then he stopped. He suddenly remembered the field that he and Cameron used to go to, when Cameron would show him how the butterflies liked to dance. “I would stand completely still, and my brother would shoot me with one of his arrows. After he did it, the butterflies would land on me.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. It only lasted for a few minutes, but I still remember how their little feet felt. So light, almost like a breeze.” He pointed to a yellow flower. “That’s what color they were. Yellow.” He hadn’t thought of that in centuries. “The butterflies landing on me made me feel like I wasn’t a monster,” he said.

Reina squeezed his hand. “You aren’t.”

He didn’t feel like arguing. Not this time. He just kept looking at the painting and remembering that day. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

She raised her brows. “For getting rid of that other painting?”

“For making me remember the butterflies.”

She smiled and touched his face. “Good memories are worth keeping.”

He set his hand over hers and tried to imprint her tender smile into his mind. “Yes, they are.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “You have given those back to me. My old ones, and you’ve given me new ones.”

She smiled. “And you’ve given me good memories as well. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.” He hugged her then, just wanting to hold her while he thought about butterflies. Butterflies. Hah. The boys would laugh. But it didn’t matter. Reina was taking him places that just felt good. He took her hands and squeezed lightly, searching for the words to say, to explain how she made him feel. He didn’t know where to start, but he needed to try.

Jarvis hesitated at Reina’s expectant stare. She was beautiful. How could his words do justice? “Reina—” He stopped. Unsure what to say.

She touched his face, her smile kind and welcoming. “Tell me, Jarvis. It’s okay.”

He nodded, searching for the right words. “Reina—”

“Jarvis!” Nigel’s shout interrupted him. “Get in here!”

Jarvis swore at the reminder of what they were facing. Shit. He squeezed Reina’s hand regretfully. “We gotta go.”

She smiled with resignation, and she held onto his hand. “I know we do.”

Together, they headed down the hall and into the sick room. It felt different walking in with Reina by his side. It felt less dark, less dire, less hopeless, which was exactly what he needed. She’d been right to take that moment for them. To bring them both into a better place. He could feel that he was further from detonation than he had been. Never had he valued inner peace before, but he understood its power now.

Jarvis kept holding her hand as he walked up to the bed Rocco was resting on. The youth was the color of the all organic, humanitarian-endorsed, angel-blessed cream that Nigel poured into his coffee every morning. Rocco’s T-shirt was hanging off him, as if he’d lost more than a couple handfuls of muscle since he’d tossed living to the wind. He was giving off no energy, as if his soul had already checked out.

Jarvis had seen men in this state plenty of times when he’d been in the Den, and he knew where it would end. With a visit from one of Death’s Guides. Why had he bothered to grab the kid anyway? He had enough trouble keeping alive those who wanted to live to waste time on those who had already packed it in.

But he knew why he’d snagged the kid. It was because Reina had wanted him to do it, and she’d gotten in his head the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could make a positive difference for someone instead of being responsible for death and mayhem. “You think you can heal this kid?”

“I don’t know.” Nigel was sitting beside him, frowning as he rested his hands above the kid’s heart. “He’s in bad shape.”

Reina was already pulling back the sheets. “Let’s get him under the blankets. He’s so cold.”

Jarvis smiled at her instinctive desire to help someone in need. Whether it was his bad interior design that was sapping his energy, or a young kid suffering from a broken heart, she was there, offering her support. Never failing. He lightly brushed her hair off her shoulders. “Sweetheart, he’s a vampire, so he’d be like a block of ice even if he wasn’t willing himself into the Afterlife.”

“So, we need more blankets, then.” Undeterred, she doubled over the comforter as Nigel leaned over the kid.

“Pascal’s still sleeping it off in another one of your guest rooms,” Nigel said. “I stashed the other five we rescued in my place. They’re all in bad shape. I don’t know if they’re going to make it. Christian resurfaced and he’s up there with them playing nurse.” Nigel passed his hands over Rocco’s forehead, and his palms began to glow a pale pink. “I put in some porn movies for Pascal, so hopefully all that bumping and grinding will get through his coma and jerk him back.”

Reina looked up. “You use porn as a medicinal aid?”

“Sure.” Nigel winked. “You know what men are like. We see the world in shades of sex and violence.”

Reina’s gaze flicked curiously to Jarvis. “At the same time?”

“Not me.” Nigel looked offended. “Sex is a beautiful, magical experience that embodies love, poetry, and angels flitting around.”