“Hasn’t been time. And now, compared to this latest escapade, it hardly seems worth noting.” She mimed perking up in relief, but he didn’t smile. “Plus, I was just waiting until you were conscious so you could truly appreciate my rage.”
She slumped again. “Okay, well, go ahead, then. I can take it.”
“I don’t think I can. Not anymore.”
His words, low and distant, rattled her. “A good screaming match can really clear the air. Maybe a slap or two, to make up for me almost killing everybody in the league.” When he didn’t respond, she put the lemonade down and touched his leg. “I want to make it up to you, Jonah.”
“If you’re about to offer a blow job next, don’t.”
She withdrew her hand, wondering if she was actually on fire from her cheeks all the way down past the sheet around her breasts, or if it only felt that way.
“Your concept of this bond between us is fucked-up,” he said bluntly.
For the first time, a curse from him didn’t make her want to laugh. That she had pushed him so far beyond his boundaries didn’t seem funny anymore. “Jonah—”
But he didn’t let her continue. “And so was mine,” he admitted. “I wanted you for all the wrong reasons.”
“Saving the city from hell is a wrong reason?”
He shook his head. “I wanted you the same way the men at the Shimmy Shack did. For myself.”
She stared at him. Was it just another symptom of her fucked-up view of the bond that her heart stuttered in hope when he said that?
“I don’t know how,” he said, “but if there’s a way out of this, I’ll let you go.”
Her heart lurched to a standstill.
“Let me go?” The words fell from her lips, as cold as a malice sting.
“I’m not going to be another one of those men to you.”
“But you’re not. You’re—”
He waited, but nothing else would come from her mouth. “You wouldn’t dance without a bouncer.” His hand, trussed against his belly, tightened into a fist. “Without the anklet, I am not enough to be the anchor, the control you need.”
Hot denials tried to bubble up past her frozen throat. How could he be so wrong? She surged out of the bed, cracked her head on the low ceiling again, and spun to face him. She had to wait a minute for the spinning room to catch up with her spinning head. “I make one little—okay, one fairly substantial—mistake, but for a good cause—you know, saving the city—and I’m outcast.”
He frowned at her—probably because she was naked—and pushed himself upright, grimacing when he jostled his arm. “It’s not you—”
“Sure, that’s what they said when they caught me with the neighbor man—‘It wasn’t your fault, Elaine.’ And meanwhile, the horror and disgust is all over their faces when they turn away. Or when I took off my clothes for money that first time. ‘Oh, she’s damaged goods; it’s not her fault dollar bills are falling out of her panties.’ Hey, at least the lust was an improvement.”
“Nim—”
“What else is immortality good for? I get to make mistakes. I don’t have to be perfect, I don’t even have to be good, and I still get to try again. If I’m broken, I get another chance to fix myself.” She stopped, aghast at the way her chest was heaving with sobs. She’d decide when her chest heaved, thanks anyway, not her stupid hang-up on some holier-than-her jerk. “If you don’t want to take that chance, that’s your choice. But you can’t drag me down with you.”
He gave a sharp bark of laughter, but not in amusement. “That’s what I did, though, didn’t I? Dragged you out of the sky. I almost killed you. Your soul would have been lost at my hand.”
She stared at him. Her soul? He was worried about her soul? “That is so what I get for falling for a missionary man!” She whirled on her heel and stomped into the tiny bathroom. If only the door was heavier, she could have slammed it.
Splashing water on her face rinsed away any evidence of the sobbing. She stared down at her hands gripping the sink. While she was knocked out, someone—not someone; Jonah—had wiped away the grime. Even her fingernails were clean.
The thought of his handling her unconscious body . . . She wanted to slam him for that. But her hands were too clean to get dirty now. Plus, she was returning the favor for him not killing her while he had the chance.
Up on deck, under the high sun, the city was a hazy miniature on the horizon, with no other boats in view. The heat sank into her skin as she settled onto the cushions near the prow. The white vinyl burned the backs of her thighs, but she ignored it. Let the demon earn its keep.
Jonah’s steps thudded behind her. “The teshuva’s strength won’t last all the way to shore, if you were thinking of swimming. And in case you forgot, it can’t help you breathe underwater.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” she said testily. “I’ll add that to the list of things I can’t do.”
Stubbornly, she lounged on the deck cushions, letting the sun soak her skin.
Jonah stomped around somewhere in the middle of the boat, but she refused to look back. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, but he’d stranded her out here. Let him deal with her buck-naked ass.
She startled when a long-sleeved oxford sailed over her head and landed in her lap. “I can’t get skin cancer anymore,” she snapped.
“You can still get arrested for indecent exposure.”
“By whom? You nixed the blow job, so what do you care?”
Between one blink and the next, he was looming over her, blocking the sun, his face dark as any cloud. “You are not going to provoke me.”
“Looks like I already have.” Her gaze drifted deliberately down to where his worn-thin cargo shorts gave him away.
He didn’t try to shield himself. “You’ve already demonstrated your power. And how it can destroy.”
Hurt flared like a struck match, still in the book and threatening to inflame the rest. “You still have all your parts after our night together. All the parts you had before it, anyway.” Then she winced and rubbed her fingertips over her lips. “You wanted to cast me off. At least I’m giving you good reasons now.”
He sank to his knees in front of her. “It’s not about what I want, Nim. It’s about what’s the right thing to do.”
When he was this close, the heat of him rivaled the August sun, and the scent of aroused male was spiked with the cool water and sharp diesel. Her wayward emotions tipped overboard, leaving only her desire for him. She trailed her fingers across her thighs where the reven curled. “We’re possessed by demons. Maybe it’s too late to worry about the right thing to do.”
His gaze traced the path her hands had led. “I thought you said we had a chance to make up for our mistakes.”
“Not till after we make them,” she whispered. “I used to do the wrong thing for the wrong reasons. Now I’m doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. That’s progress, don’t you think?”
He leaned forward. Because she was a lure, after all. Made for sin. Made for him.
She met him halfway, maybe a little more than halfway, and tilted her head to take his kiss. Sun warmed, sweat tinged. A hint of anguish that gave her hope. Maybe he didn’t want to cast her off. Not that he wouldn’t still do it, of course. The downside of the moral man. But in the meantime . . .
The kiss went on and on until she gasped. She might not have made it to shore on that breath, but she would’ve been close. Not that she wanted to get away now.
She curled her fingers against his chest where vicious red slashes were smoothing into white scars. “They really got you good.”
“That was me. After I made you comfortable below, I didn’t want to lie beside you with the ferales’ stink still on me. So I cut my shirt off beneath the bandages to wash. Not easy without two hands.”