Chapter Thirteen
Kylie
She lay on the floor in the shower once more as the water turned black, washing away the layers of caked-on soot. Kylie hadn’t bothered to disrobe this time, simply stepping inside with everything on, letting the shower clean it all. Now she stripped slowly, until her clothes were a messy black pile near the drain.
Her mind was elsewhere, trying to process what the hell had just happened tonight. The first thing to do was list the facts.
One. She’d seen Corde pull the fire from under the door and make it dance along his arm, forming shapes.
Two. Corde had somehow manipulated the fire into giving them a nice circular exit hole up through the floor and roof of the house.
Three. He’d called up the warm air from the fire and used it to allow them to parachute to safety.
Three point five. Upon landing Corde had absorbed the impact as if it were little more than jumping up from a chair or down off a step.
Oh, and last but not least, she’d kissed him.
More accurately, he’d kissed her and she’d kissed back, but it didn’t matter. The night before she’d been freaking out about staying in the house of a criminal. Tonight she was freaking out about kissing him.
What was tomorrow night? Sleeping with him? The worst part was, she’d made the decision to stay at his place again long before anything else had happened between them. She hadn’t wanted to go stay at her house, but she’d needed to make the effort to leave. To prove to herself that she could.
The changes in Corde and her changing feelings were too strong though, and she’d given in to the temptation to stay. Not only did she secretly like the luxury in which he lived, but being near him also gave her the chance to ensure that he wasn’t committing any more crimes. To try and make sure he stayed on the right path. Kylie needed to help him stay that way. To keep his life together.
Because hers was falling apart.
First her car was vandalized, and she didn’t have the money to fix it. Then her house was broken into and burgled. Again, Kylie didn’t have the money to fix it. Now tonight she’d been shot at, and her house had burned to the ground. Gone.
The only thing that was a constant in her life was Corde. Now tonight she’d seen firsthand evidence that he was certainly more than just human. Superhuman, alien, part dragon, she really had no idea. Even his motives were cloudy and muddled. Not evil, of course, just not entirely truthful. What exactly was he doing in Barton City to begin with? Everything she’d thought she’d known needed to be questioned. Was it even an accident that he’d been sent to meet her?
The water had been pelting her this entire time, and all at once the questions and confusion left her feeling battered by its flow. She killed the water, dried off, and put on one of the luxurious white cotton terry robes and a pair of baggy black sweatpants she’d grabbed from the store the other day. Tossing her wet hair up into a towel above her head, she pronounced herself dressed enough.
Opening the door, she left the bedroom, wandering around the perimeter of her floor, admiring the sights. In the end she came to the window that faced west. Toward the mountains.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”
She didn’t turn as Corde entered the room. In the reflection she saw that he too had changed. He was wearing some ultra dark-wash jeans with a flashy silver belt buckle and a light green V-necked shirt that showed the first curves of his massive pecs. It was, she decided, a good look on him.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed as he came up to stand behind her.
“Kylie, I wanted to apologize.”
“You don’t need to. It’s okay.”
He shook his head in the reflection. Dragging her eyes away from the sight of the mountains, she looked up at him, gray eyes meeting violet, locking together with an abruptness that startled her.
“No it’s not. Your car…your house. I…”
“Corde. If you weren’t around, my dead body would be in that house right now. I chewed out Jose. I should have known better than to do that to his fragile ego.”
“Bullshit. You were frustrated and distracted by my actions.”
She sighed. “No, Corde. It’s my fault. I’m supposed to be above all that. You think that this is my first time dealing with a testosterone-laden punk with an ego more fragile than glass? Thank you, but this is on me. Again.”
The corners of his eyes tightened. “Again?”
Kylie bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yes. Another failure on my belt. I can’t seem to just do this job. It’s not hard, Corde, and yet I struggle with it every day!”
“I don’t understand,” the giant man said, eyebrows dropping lower in a frown. “You’ve been doing it just fine from what I can see.”
She gave him a sad smile. “That’s because you just see the surface of it. The here and now. Oh sure, I can supervise people, make sure they pick up garbage or whatever the job may be. That’s easy. No, Corde, it’s the other part of the job.”
“The…other? Now you’ve really lost me.”
“I’m supposed to be helping those in need, dammit!” she crossed her arms and turned back to the glass so that he wouldn’t see the tears of disappointment well up. Blinking quickly, she tried to disperse them. “And I’m not doing it. Every year my recidivism rate goes up. My program isn’t helping, Corde. And it’s all on me.”
Giant hands wrapped around her shoulders as he stepped forward, pulling her into his chest. Kylie tried to resist, but he just grunted softly and made it happen anyway, overpowering her. She dropped her head as he held her tight.
“Kylie, I need you to get something through your head.”
“What?” she asked sourly, not in the mood for any patronizing advice.
“Your job is to ensure that punishment is fulfilled. That is your job. The people in your program don’t want help. The only reason they show up is because they have to, or they go to jail. If you want to help them, to save them, then you are in the wrong career. People who want help need someone who will listen to them. Talk to them. Work with them. Not force them to do manual labor.”
She shuddered at the correctness. “I think I know that. I…I’ve been thinking of quitting, Corde. Selling the house, maybe going back to school. It’s been on my mind. More of late than ever before. I don’t think this job is for me. I’m not making a difference here.”
The admission of her own vulnerability, of the fact that she was thinking of backing down, didn’t come easily. Fear that Corde might reject her for not pushing through and succeeding was only trumped by her own disappointment in herself. She’d come to this job after…after Rich, and thrown herself fully into it, just like she’d been learning to take care of herself. It was part of the new Kylie that she’d wanted to become.
“You’re wrong about one thing,” Corde said, his voice thick and husky.
“What’s that?”
Fingers dug into her shoulders gently and twisted her back around.
“You are making a difference.”
“I am?”
“With me.”
She bit back a sob as he leaned in to kiss her. Heat seared her lips but she ignored it, throwing her arms around his neck and letting him sweep her from her feet. How was it that he always seemed to know what to say to make her feel better about herself? No matter the problem, he was either there to solve it with his hands, or with his words.
Kylie tilted her head forward, pulling her lips away just a tad until her forehead rested against his. She opened her eyes, looking deep into his, trying to decipher his intentions. Was he just interested in what he could get his hands on? The robe she was wearing was bunched up around her ass as he held her aloft, one hand on her waist the other just below her cheeks. Was his mind straying to the possibility of physical intimacy with her?
Though she was loath to admit it, he wouldn’t be the only one thinking of that. The kiss that had been so rudely interrupted earlier had set her body ablaze well before the house went up, and being carried halfway home in his arms—she’d eventually felt guilty and walked beside him—hadn’t extinguished a thing. But until just now, she’d not been entirely sure this was what she wanted with him.
Now though…
“Corde.”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me.”