But his eyes were warm and moist and he was looking at me with such naked longing that more adrenaline pumped through my veins than the entire short-lived chase into the Dog Run. So many people in this world, I thought wonderingly, but only one man who spoke to my soul. How could a superhero beholden to uphold peace and protect all the innocents in an entire city single out one as special, as more worthy than all the rest? How were soul mates retained when years and realities and even death stood between them?
“Don’t leave,” he said, and in my heart I heard what he wasn’t saying. Don’t leave me. Not again.
Tires squealed to a halt at the front of the Dog Run, and sirens and lights bathed the quiet, violent street in crimson and cream slashes. And still he looked at me. Not Olivia. And that made all the difference.
“Blue Angel,” I said, and though it was a statement, my voice rose on a questioning note. I wasn’t even sure I should be saying it.
A sigh of relief, and Ben nodded. “Wait for me. No matter how long this takes.”
I reached up and put a hand to his cheek, and after a second his body heat soaked through Jasmine’s aura and warmed me throughout. I smiled. “I have been.”
And I stepped away, leaped, and cleared the back fence just as the first flashlights came arching our way.
28
Back in the days when cowboys still clipped along dusty one-lane roads and the test site put on expensive and lethal light shows for politicians, stars, and foreign dignitaries alike, there was a burgeoning business in Las Vegas called atomic art. Signs meant to attract attention to new establishments popped up as ubiquitously as mushroom clouds in the baby blue Nevada skies, and the Blue Angel, situated above the motel of the same name, was one of them.
When I was a kid I used to ask my mom to drive past that motel, worn down even then, save for the lovely lady twirling on her pedestal, standing guard over Fremont Street. Her robes, a powder blue, clung to her curvaceous frame, and her hair was beacon yellow as she pointed a star-tipped wand at pedestrians like she was bestowing blessings on all who passed below.
I stood below her now, gazing up at her chipped and faded gown, and realized there was more kitsch than romance to her, and that this original thoroughfare leading weary travelers downtown into Glitter Gulch was more highway to hell for most than it was yellow brick road. I sighed, unreasonably sad at being disillusioned. I’d long been aware that most people who came to Vegas never truly found what they were looking for.
So what the hell was I doing here? I should be back with Hunter, plotting our next move, kicking preternatural ass, and leaving street dreams and battered symbols to the mortals who needed them most. Instead, while the city sat embroiled in an apocalyptic-type plague, I was crouched beneath a fallen angel, trying to get my groove on.
I rolled my eyes, shifted, and placed my other heel against the wall, but I continued to wait for Ben and whatever questions and demands he brought with him. And the truth was, I couldn’t wait. God help me, I was like a high school senior on prom night, except instead of a gown and corsage I was wearing a preteen’s aura and a supernatural sidearm. How romantic.
Two and a half hours later a truck door slammed and the scent of hopeful nervousness wafted my way. I straightened, swallowed hard, and turned to face the lot behind the motel. Seconds later, Ben turned the corner of the cinder-block building and stopped, silhouetted there. We stared at each other, the Blue Angel twirling overhead, wrapping ribbons of light and shadow around our bodies so that we kept appearing to each other anew, over and over again.
I’d like to say I was giving him time to get used to seeing me again, but I was doing the same. I’d shut him off in my brain to survive this world without him, so in a sense, he was coming back to me as well. Finally, convinced that neither of us was going to disappear, we stepped forward at the same time.
A ghost of a smile flitted over his face. I felt it visit mine as well. “Hi,” I said. “Again.”
“You fly.”
It wasn’t the first thing I’d expected to come from his mouth. I’d been imagining endearments, perhaps a touch of anger or tears or silent numbness, so the words sparked a self-conscious laugh from deep in my chest, but I checked it, and it came out strangled instead. “I, uh…leap. It’s different.”
“Leap,” he repeated, coming closer. “And you save former boyfriends from death by junkie in darkened lots.”
I ignored the question underlying his words and focused on the facts. I smelled exhaustion and blood on him, and fresh pity coursed through me as I thought of his dead friends. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save them, Ben. I was protecting someone else. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.”
“So that hasn’t changed, at least. You’re still wandering dangerous streets, looking for trouble.”
I wanted to bristle at that, but I had to choose my battles. “Yeah, well. You know me.”
“I thought I did.”
“Ben, look-”
“No,” he said, holding up a hand, then extending it to brush my arm. Carefully, as if I might break. I let my eyes flutter shut, unable to remember the last time I’d been handled carefully. “I don’t care. I mean, I do. I will later. But, Jo…you’re here. I’m seeing you. I-I’m touching you. I’m not dreaming you. Am I?”
In all the time that I’d known Ben, that I’d watched and followed him-seen him joyful, grieving, strong, and destroyed-I’d never seen the toxic fusion of all those things swirling on his face at once. His eyes, however, remained steady on mine, asking, Where have you been?
I could either tell him, or lie. Reveal all, or remain hidden. But I did neither. I could leap from rooftops, dodge blows, and face bullets with impervious courage, but I couldn’t choose between my two lives, and I couldn’t allow Ben to be stuck between them, a pendulum swinging back and forth.
I shook my head sadly. “It’s all a dream, Ben. It’s one long night where nothing and everything makes sense. Like when you’re running, but not getting anywhere. When you’re falling, but you never hit the bottom.” I caught myself then, how vague and unsatisfying that all sounded, and smiled ruefully. “What I mean is…it’s complicated.”
Ben returned my smile, gave a slow nod of understanding that I didn’t deserve, and said, “But it’s never been complicated between us, Jo.”
“Except for that whole lose you/find you, lose you/find you thing.”
He brought my hand to his chest, drawing me closer. “Except for that.”
And what did that matter? I thought, as he lowered his lips to mine, as all that was heat and hearth and home enveloped me more thoroughly than any aura ever could. What did anything matter when his lips were warming mine, when his tongue found its home in my mouth, and his arms wrapped around me to draw me deeper, both away and into myself?
Ben managed to pull away first, making me wonder just which of us was superhuman. “Unless we’re going to make love in a place that charges by the hour, day, or week, I suggest you tell me where to take you. Now.”
I laughed. “As tempting as the week-long stay sounds, I think I have a better place.”
“Do you?”
I did, though I hadn’t thought about it until now. Olivia’s apartment was out because Hunter was now living there, and wouldn’t that be fun? Ben’s place would offer too much distraction-phone calls, memories, files on dead girls-and I wanted him to myself. But there was one place sure to offer both privacy and retreat from the world. I took his hand, smiling up at him as I did, and we headed to his truck. “Take me home.”