Devil's Punch

“Did she realize your gift could kill?” If she had, then it was criminal of her not to tell him sooner, even if her intentions had been good. For the first time, I felt a flicker of anger at Min. Before, I’d always blamed Chance, but she guarded her own secrets as tightly. Like his father’s identity.

He shook his head. “She knew the bad luck could be deflected, but she thought there were limits. So did I. But it makes sense—if the luck can save my life, then it can take someone else’s. After that, Mom looked for ways to compensate, but I wasn’t interested. I decided I wouldn’t get close to anyone else again.”

In his way, Chance had been every bit as messed up as I was. He probably still was, but I wouldn’t hold it against him. “So then…why did you—”

“Ask you out?” he finished. “It was the oddest thing. I tried to explain it to you once before, that click. I heard your drawl, saw your smile, and everything in my head went fuzzy. It was like I know this girl, or I felt like I should. I had to see you again. I told myself I’d be careful.”

“So you were trying to protect me.”

He nodded. “Later, I thought if I kept the emotional walls up, it would keep you from getting hurt.”

“I don’t condone how you handled things, but I understand.”

“That’s the best I could hope for.”

“And I guess my accident proves you did love me, after all. By the end.”

He closed his eyes. “I tried so hard not to. My love kills, Corine. But you were so sweet, so…”

“Gullible?”

“Irresistible. I couldn’t help myself. And the luck compensated when I stopped fighting, when I fell headlong for you—”

“I fell too. Literally.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

And it was. The past was no longer a thorn in my soul.

I had a lot to think about, but everything made sense now. From my perspective, he should have told me the risks after we got serious—my opinion on that didn’t change—but he hadn’t acted out of malice. His head was all fucked up at the time, and he was trying to do what was best. And maybe, just maybe, he’d seen a glimpse of my past—a suggestion that I needed somebody to take care of me for a while. I certainly hadn’t fought at first. It was only later that I wanted more.

Now I’d given him reason to doubt me. Did that make us even?

Then I added, “I won’t make you talk about her again if you’d rather not.”

“It’s not Lily, per se. Just how badly I failed her.”

Yeah. He wouldn’t be here, if he’d known the risks, if she’d gotten regular cleansings. Such a small thing, but for want of the horseshoe nail, and all that. Most likely, he’d be married with a kid or two, working as a stockbroker or a day trader, while his wife with the beautiful singing voice ministered to the unfortunate. Instead, he had an inert Chihuahua and me. That illustrated perfectly how unfair life could be.

Sweetness and Light

“It’s pretty clear neither one of us is perfect,” Chance said. “We’ve both screwed up. At this point, we have to decide what to do about it.”

“Do you believe I can do better?”

“Do you think I can?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

“Then let’s start there.” He pushed to his feet, weariness in every movement. “If I can stay awake, I’m taking a shower.” He paused. “You’re lucky, you know. If I had more energy, I’d have bitched you out good.”

“Let’s hear it for exhaustion.” I listened to the water running in the bathroom, and the next thing I knew, it was a long time later. I knew that because Greydusk was rapping politely on the door, and it wouldn’t wake me without a good reason.

“Sybella grows impatient,” it said.

“Any trouble?”

“It was quiet until the summons.”

“Awesome.”

“I am to inform you there is clothing suitable to your station in the wardrobe.”

Suitable to my station. Fabulous. No doubt it would be elegant and uncomfortable as hell.

“I need time to get ready.”

“I will pass the message to Gilder.” Its footsteps trailed away.

I raised up on one elbow and found Chance gazing at me with lambent, sleep-lidded eyes. The bed was big enough that I couldn’t remember running up against him in the night. Or day. Whatever we’d slept through.

I made a conscious choice to move toward him. He met me halfway and his arms slipped around me, as they had so many times before. I didn’t stifle the memories this time. I let them come, and some were beautiful. Once, I’d thought he was the best thing ever to happen to me. Maybe I would again.

“You feel so good,” he whispered.

“You too.”

He buried his face in my tousled hair, rubbing his cheek slowly side to side. I wondered then: Did love ever truly die? I stroked his back and held him, savoring the moment.

“Sad as it sounds, this is the happiest I’ve been since you left me.”

I eased back to stare at him. “That’s…pretty messed up.”

“I know,” he said.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that revelation. I mean, on the surface, it was flattering. But I’d moved on. Put my life back together and grown stronger. Chance had fixated on getting me back. I asked myself if that was healthy or if it was a sign of how much he’d come to love me. Maybe I didn’t know shit about relationships and I was looking for an excuse to wig out and run.

Right now, none of it mattered.

I leaned in and touched my lips to his. His fingers tangled in my hair, his mouth an endless sweetness on mine. He’d always kissed like a god. Our breathing was ragged when I pulled back.

“Time to get up.”

But before we did, he brought me breakfast in the form of another protein bar and water. After I ate, I got out of bed and went to the wardrobe, where I found clothing suitable for the circus. Seriously.

Apparently, Greydusk wanted me to wear a satin brocade gown with a jeweled belt and a formal headdress. It looked like a combo of the shit they made Amidala wear in those awful Star Wars prequels and crazy Ren Faire garb run amok. Yeah, there’s no way. Over my dead body, I put one of those on. Chance came to stand behind me, wearing nothing but his boxers.

Damn.

He really was breathtakingly beautiful. His hair was long and shaggy, gleaming like a raven’s wing. It looked like my hands had been in it. His face? Well, that had always been sculpted to splendor beyond human limits. Since I’d left, he’d spent more time working out, more time sparring, and the result was a body that could make me stop and stare. I’d never seen anyone with an eight-pack before. When he caught me looking, he ducked his head, inexplicably shy, and it delighted me.

“You’re gorgeous,” I said. “I mean, you always were, but in a more GQ, impervious way.”

“Now?”

“I can’t look at you without wanting to touch.”

His eyes widened, but so did his smile. I never would’ve been so honest about my desire before; my confidence wasn’t up to the mark. Back in the day, I’d worried that he’d feel like he had to lie if I said something like that, because clearly I wasn’t his physical equal, and I avoided the subject instead of addressing it. I pretended the