Read Online Kiss at Your Own Risk by Stephanie Rowe - Free Book Online

and Jarvis had bought places in the same building.
    And it felt desolate without Christian there to share it.
    No one had said it, but they were all thinking it. There was no plan to make, no rescue to attempt. The tentacles were bad shit. Christian was dead.
    Blaine shoved his chair back. “I’m getting some more pizza.”
    He strode across the hardwood floor into the kitchen, but when he got there, he ignored the food. He fisted the back of a chair, leaned on it, and dropped his head. His fingers dug into the black metal, and he felt the material give beneath his grasp. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Christian.”
    “Blaine.” Angelica’s singsong voice danced through the kitchen.
    He spun around, flames exploding from him in violent aggression. Sparks singed the wall and the floors and the cabinets, but there was no witch to kill. There was nothing in the kitchen but what was supposed to be there.
    Jarvis and Nigel tore into the room, both of them fully armed. “Where is she?” Jarvis demanded.
    Blaine shook his head, turning slowly around. “She never leaves the Den.”
    “I heard her too.” Nigel’s blades were out and he was ready.
    “Oh, Blaine, dear.”
    He finally saw that the stainless steel fridge was sparkling. “There!” He hurled a fireball at the appliance and all he got was her amused chuckle.
    “My delightful Blaine, you should know by now you can’t hurt me.”
    Blaine swore and he let his flames subside to a simmer. Nigel and Jarvis had moved up behind him, facing the fridge. She was right. They’d tried hundreds of times to kill her, and they’d never so much as singed one of her artificially blond tresses. Escape had been the second choice.
    The cooling unit shimmered again, and Angelica’s smug visage appeared as a faint shadow in the metal. Blaine’s upper lip curled in disgust and he turned his back and walked out of the kitchen without another word. The overbearing girl-power freak had no control over him anymore.
    Nigel and Jarvis followed him, and they silently sat down at the table.
    They all drained their beers.
    “She’s going to stalk us,” Nigel finally said.
    “Blaine!” She sounded pissed now.
    He did a quick scan of the living room. There was no stainless steel for her to possess. He leaned back in his chair. “I’m thinking of remodeling the kitchen,” he said loudly. “I find the stainless steel a bit austere for my tastes.”
    Nigel grinned. “I was thinking the same thing about my place.”
    “Blaine!” she yelled. “Christian’s not dead!”
    His hand clenched around the bottle, and his teammates went still. No one said a word.
    “But he’s suffering horribly,” she shouted.
    The bottle shattered beneath Blaine’s grip, and glass sliced his palm. The witch knew suffering.
    “If you bring your team in, I’ll give Christian back to you,” she called out. “Nigel can heal him.”
    Blaine shoved back from the table and walked over to the window. The sun was setting, and the city was beautiful. Miles and miles of world for him to explore, whenever he wanted. Total freedom. The witch was lying to get him back. Christian was dead. He’d failed him. No more to discuss.
    “Fine. Talk to him yourself,” she snapped. “I just don’t understand why you refuse to trust me. When have I ever lied to you? How come men constantly confuse torture and lying?” she muttered. “They’re just not the same thing.”
    Blaine deliberately turned around. He could see into the kitchen from this angle, and the witch’s high cheekbones and long eyelashes were clearly visible. She looked aggravated, and the veins on her neck were popping out as she struggled with something.
    Jarvis and Nigel edged their seats over so they could see the show.
    The estrogenized dictator made a grunting sound that made Jarvis wince, and suddenly, Christian’s face was next to hers in the fridge. He was ashen and fuzzy, his eyes closed and swollen. “See?” she said.