Tenants and Tyrants (Book 5 of The Warden series) (4 page)

He looked down at his chest to check for blood. The skin was unharmed. He looked back at her. She looked confused, and a little guilty. “Let’s go to your place,” she said quietly.

His heart beat a little faster. He didn’t acknowledge the request, but he knew what his face looked like; like he was afraid and hopeful. He was hopeful that maybe tonight she would finally give in and sleep with him. He was afraid that she really was playing the game, and that he was still losing.

“Come on.” She grabbed the cuff of his coat sleeve and dragged him along. She didn’t have the strength of muscle to actually force him to go with her, but she did have his balls firmly gripped, and that was likely to get leverage for any short or long distance traveling.

When they reached his apartment, he unlocked the outside door, and thought about jumping through it and slamming it in her face. It was cowardly and childish, but he did think about it. The only thing that stopped him was Nevia’s hand gently pressing on his back, ushering him to go through.

He wondered what else she had smelled on him. Could she smell how much he wanted her? She already knew. He had made it obvious, but did she believe him? Did she realize just how much he wanted her?

He released the dead bolt and they entered his one bedroom apartment. Even though it was a one bedroom, he treated it like a studio. The large living room they entered was where he kept his bed, and no other furniture. A constant bachelor never offers his overnight guests the option of assuming the night can end anywhere differently than it began, in the bedroom.

The bedroom had been used for storage and was always locked. He didn’t have many personal items, but what little he had he kept in there. The kitchen just off the living room, separated only by a pass through with Indian style carved wood shutters. From the bed he could see just a glimpse of his stove and kitchen table. The bathroom was immediately right of his bed. He liked the quick access in case the walk home from the bar hadn’t sobered his guests up enough not to puke all over his bed.

Nevia came straight in like she owned the place. She had only been there a few times for “night caps” but she had never been bashful past the second time. She went straight to the kitchen and chugged some water. The run must have made her thirsty.

She came back into his bedroom/living room and stood sipping her glass of water. She watched him remove his coat and hang it up in his coat closet. He also removed his shoes. He didn’t remove anything else, even though his shirt was basically off anyway.

He glanced at her before laying down on his bed. He normally laid on it sideways on his stomach, so his companions would feel comfortable lying beside him, without thinking that they had to immediately start making out. He always found that to be the key to getting women into bed. Put them in a situation that would normally put them on the defense, and then wait. Once they realized you weren’t going to pounce, you could take the next step. Each step had to be casual though. If it was too calculated, it made them feel cheap.

With Nevia however, there was no point. He laid down as if he planned to fall asleep in her presence, only above the covers. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the pillows. “Where do you want to do this?” she asked setting her glass on the side table, leaning against the bed, and kicking off her shoes. He opened his eyes and watched her unbuttoning her pants. Normally this would have sent any man into internal cheers of hurray, but he knew she wasn’t removing her pants for sex.

It was true that Nevia had come up a few times, for night caps, but that wasn’t all. She had been goading him into practicing his healing power more. Since he didn’t have any volunteers stupid enough to take up the role, she designated herself.

Three times he had tried to heal her.

He watched her remove the slacks, to reveal the bubbled, shiny tissue on her upper thigh that made Heaton’s forearm look like a stove burn.

Three times he had flayed her.

He cringed at the scar tissue. He cringed because he knew how badly he had hurt her. He cringed because if Heaton knew about this, he would send him back to Danato in a heartbeat. He cringed because Nevia’s beautiful youthful skin, was in ruins because of him.

“Come on.” She crawled over him to get onto the bed. When he didn’t open his eyes, she kneeled in front of him and touched his cheek. He felt that little boy inside start to cry, and a few tears wet his eyelashes. “Daniel, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” He opened his eyes, intending to yell at her, but with her face so close he couldn’t muster anger. “How could you let me do that to you?”

“I asked you to. Don’t pretend this abuse was on your part. I’m the one aiming the hammer, your just swinging it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. Please, Nevia, don’t ask me to do this.”

“I know you don’t want to hurt me, but you need to practice. Unless you want to hang out at a morgue at night, you aren’t going to get any.” He shook his head. He was about to get indignant, but she kissed him. It was the first time she had done anything remotely sexual with him since the prison. He wanted to devour her lips, and pull her on top of him, but it wasn’t that kind of kiss. It was a “do this for me kiss.”

It should have been sweet, but it was sour. He knew she was still just using him as a lab rat. She really was playing the game, he just didn’t know which one. A little kiss was enough to harden his resolve and make him consider what he was doing, just practice.

“Just focus on that feeling, Daniel,” she said as she leaned back on the bed, her head opposite his. She looked like she was giving herself to him, which she was, but just her body, and not for pleasure.

He decided just to get it over with. The sooner he started the sooner he could tell her he tried, and she could leave limping. He rolled over to straddle her, with his head facing her feet. He pressed his weight on her hips to pin her down, and focused his attention on her right thigh.

He hadn’t being concentrating more than a few seconds when he felt his heart slow down. The wave of heat that hit her, made her squirm. He knew he was hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. The process started here. Even if he wanted reverse, he still had to start by damaging the tissue first. He didn’t know why.

She clutched at his back, wringing her hands in his shirt. “I want you to think about what Heaton said at the table. I want you to think about how much what he said stung your heart. Think about how much what he said hurt you.” She was panting and grunting through the words, so he wasn’t sure if she was serious, or just wanted to talk to distract herself from the pain.

He thought about Heaton like she said. He remembered how he acted like it would be no big deal to leave him behind. Heaton was his best friend in the world, and he was willing to transfer like this job was nothing to him. Like
he
was nothing to him.

Daniel felt the coolness that accompanied his actions dissipate into a warm glow around him. His heart started beating normally and then faster. For a moment, he thought he had stopped using his power, but as he concentrated on the tissue it frosted over.

He knew that the heat was excruciating in this process, but he couldn’t remember a time when he made his subject/victim feel cold. From his perspective though, it was hot. He felt like he was running up the stairs again, only in a heat wave. He started panting to compensate for his increased heart rate. He didn’t like it, at all, but he pressed on, willing his eyes to look beyond the layer of frost on Nevia’s leg.

He could feel her scratching at his back, but it was less insistent then it had been before. Whatever he was doing was hurting, but not as bad. Her hands gripped and released completely. He thought he might have been mistaken about the pain. She might have passed out from it.

His brain felt too hot. He got an instant headache, and the sweat beading from his forehead was making his eyes sting. He felt faint and eventually he lost track of everything. He wasn’t unconscious, but his vision was patchy, and his hearing was one long muted dial tone.

6

He had a vague sense of coolness. Someone was yelling at him. He opened his eyes and saw Nevia standing over him. She was blurry and her mouth was yelling his name, but the sounds were barely audible. She slapped his face.

He didn’t feel it, but he smiled, or at least he tried to smile. He looked down at his body and found his shirt was gone. His pants were still on but they were wet, sopping wet. He looked up and saw the torrent of water that was keeping him wet. He was in the shower.

He got the sense that the water was cold, but he couldn’t feel it. Nevia was still talking to him. He was sure she was cursing and yelling at him to snap out of whatever trance he was in, but he just watched her face. It was etched with worry, for him.

“Daniel.” Her voice pushed through as if he just needed his ears to pop. “Say something. Do you still feel hot?”

“I feel wet,” he said finding his voice.

“Open your mouth.” She ordered, and shoved a thermometer in when he did. He didn’t remember having a thermometer, but it had been a while since he cleaned his bathroom. After a minute or so the device beeped and she took it out. “104,” she said as she slumped back onto the toilet. “Fahrenheit,” she clarified. She sounded relieved.

“Isn’t that kind of high?” He asked.

She crossed her leg and tossed the thermometer on the counter next to the sink. Her pants were still off. She hadn’t taken the time to dress before dragging him into the bathroom. “Yeah, but it was 115. You were burning up. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What happened?” His head still hurt, but the water was starting to clear the fogginess.

She looked him over. “You did it.” She must have expected a certain response from him, but he didn’t really get what she meant. “You…” She started to say it again, but she stood up instead and gestured to her right thigh.

He looked over the unmarred leg. Convinced he wasn’t getting it still, she presented the left leg. They both looked perfect. If anything the right leg had more supple and glowing skin. He looked up at her, and she was smiling. It was a real smile. She was excited, or proud, or just thrilled to have her own personal plastic surgeon.

He almost told her to, “get out” right then and there. He couldn’t understand her. Why was she doing this? What did she gain from him expanding his abilities?

He was certain that the water would impede her sense of smell, but her smile faded none the less. She shut the water off and helped pull him out of the tub. She had to brace herself on the toilet to get the leverage to assist. He wondered how she had even managed to get him in there in the first place.

“Stand up,” she commanded. He did so and she undid his wet pants and slipped them off his feet when he stood. He tried not to fantasize about her kneeling before him for another purpose, but his resolve was shattered when she remove his boxers as well. If it weren’t for stepping out of a very cold shower, he may have embarrassed himself further.

She grabbed a robe off the back of the door and slipped it on him, tying it in the front. He wondered if all this pampering was necessary, or if she was just being helpful. When she instructed him to walk, he realized it was necessary.

His right knee buckled and he fell sideways against her, pinning her doggy style to the counter. He stammered out an apology, and between the two of them managed to get him upright again. He wanted to make a joke about wanting to try that again when his legs worked, but he wasn’t in the mood for comedy, even his own.

She helped him back to his bed, and he begged her not to put any covers on him. He was still too hot, and thirsty. “My throat is dry,” he said.

“I’ll get some water.” She jogged into the kitchen her bare feet slapping on the linoleum. She poured a glass of water from the sink, and as an afterthought, poured another glass and added ice to it from the freezer. She sped back without spilling more than half the contents of the glasses and gave him the iceless water to guzzle first, and then handed him the ice water to sip on so he could continue to cool down.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him. She wasn’t really so much looking at him as examining him. Something was rattling through her mind. Her logical brain was busy at work, while his had long since shut down. “I felt cold this time. The reversal must really reverse everything. Which is strange because…”

“Stop!” He hadn’t meant to yell it, but he did. “I don’t want to talk. I don’t have the energy to fuck. So just, shut-up or get out.” He shook his head wanting to take back all of it.

“Do you have a preference?” She asked. “Because I really think I should stay a while, just to make sure you’re okay.”

He knew she was only speaking as a person concerned with another person’s safety, but if she wasn’t going to be scared away by his gruff attitude and indifference, he was going to start pushing the envelope again. “Will you let me hold you?”

It must have been the last thing she expected him to say. It was as outlandish as him randomly asking her to blow him, but it was innocently romantic. “I…uh…” She paused a moment as if she were trying to sense his smell. She must have sensed him by now. He may have been attracted to her, but his body was a waste land of dead muscle. Cold shower aside he still wasn’t making any moves tonight. “Let me just refill your water and shut down some lights. I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”