Touch (Denazen #1)(7)

“Such a little hellcat.” He blew me an exaggerated kiss. A grin that told me he was picturing himself in Kale’s place slipped across his face. “Tell me again why we haven’t hooked up yet?”

I sank into the chair across from him. “I don’t like dealers?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. How could I forget?” He nodded in Kale’s direction. “Who’s the mute?”

“Curd, Kale.” I waved in Kale’s direction. “Kale, Curd.”

“I touched you,” Kale interjected after a moment of silence.

Curd snickered. “If you were in her bed, I certainly hope you weren’t touching yourself.” He turned to me, right eyebrow cocked. “Is he special?”

I glared at him.

He shrugged. “You guys thirsty? I’ll go find some soda—or something a little harder?”

I sighed and said, “Soda’s fine.”

Kale watched Curd disappear up the narrow staircase leading to the first floor and took a step forward. He repeated his previous statement. “I touched you.”

“Yes,” was all I could manage. His blue eyes pinned me to the chair. A mishmash of emotion raged inside my head. I was torn between checking the exits for men in weird suits and checking out Kale. And then I remembered Dad and the gun…

“You’re still alive.”

“Should I not be?” There was that look again. Like he was standing in the presence of some mythical creature and had been granted a year’s supply of wishes. It made me uncomfortable. It’s not like I wasn’t used to being stared at, and to be fair, I’d done my fair share of staring tonight, but this was different. Intense in a way I’d never felt before.

He took another step forward, head tilted to the side. “That’s never happened. Ever.” He reached for me, hesitating for a moment before pulling his hand back. “Can…can I touch you again?”

I probably should have been weirded out by a question like that. Any other day, I would have been, but Kale’s eyes sparkled with wonder and curiosity. Gone was the cold expression he’d worn back at my house. His voice was soft, but there was a fierce longing in it that made my mouth go dry. I pushed my discomfort aside, nodded, and stood.

For a big guy, he moved surprisingly fast, darting around the coffee table to stand in front of me. Close. Breathing-the-same-air kind of close. I expected him to grab my wrist, or maybe my arm, but instead he brought his right hand up to cup the side of my face.

“You’re so warm,” he said in awe as his thumb traced whisper light under my eye—like wiping away tears. “So soft. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Neither had I. His thumb, barely skating across my skin, left a trail of warm tingles in its wake that spread throughout my entire body. His breath, puffing out softly across my nose and forehead, was warm and sweet, almost dizzying.

A loud clanking rang from upstairs—Curd must have dropped something—snapping me out of it. I cleared my throat. “Um, thanks?”

“You helped me escape Cross,” he said, stepping back. “I tried to kill you, and you helped me escape. Why?”

I shrugged. “My dad’s a dick. Pissing him off is a hobby. ’Sides, you didn’t really try to kill me. You were scared.”

“I don’t get scared.”

“Everyone gets scared.”

Now wasn’t the time to argue. I needed answers. Things started churning in the back of my brain. Strange, late-night phone calls. Oddly timed trips to the office. All things that, had I been paying attention, might have popped up as red flags. “You said my dad was a killer. That’s some kind of euphemism, right?”

“I’m one of his weapons.”

“Weapons?”

“He uses me.”

The way he said it gave me chills. The creepy kind, this time. “To what? Like, spy on the other side’s clients?” Even though I knew it was likely crap now, my subconscious was desperate to hang onto the belief that Dad was a lawyer.

“No.”

I folded my arms, getting irritated. “Then give me a hint here. What is it you do for Dad?”

Taking two steps forward, blue eyes bright, he spoke softly. “I kill for him.”

I blinked and tried to visualize Dad as the big bad. Couldn’t do it. Or wouldn’t. Sure, he was a tool and we hadn’t really talked in years, but a killer? No way.

Turning his palms upward, Kale raised both hands and flexed his fingers. “They bring death to anything I touch.”

I remembered the ground he walked across at the stream had looked wrong. Discolored.

I passed it off on the beer at the time, but…

He jerked away each time I got close enough to touch him…

He wouldn’t take my shoes off…

The air caught in my lungs and the room began to shrink. “Your skin…?”

I would’ve called bullshit, but I of all people knew first hand crazy shit was possible. Plus, there’d been rumors floating through the raver scene for years now, ever since a local boy was arrested during Sumrun seven years ago. Rumor had it, the guy shorted out the electricity with a single touch of his fingers after being chased to the party by police. After they took him away, no one ever saw him again.

“Is deadly to anything living. Except you. How am I able to touch you? Everyone else would have died a horrible death.”