Slow Burn Part 42

"You don't have to like it," I blurt out nervously. "I don't know if this is your kind of thing, but I thought it was neat."

Dean puts his laptop and lighter aside when I thrust the pouch at him. I watch anxiously as he loosens the drawstrings then shakes out the contents of the pouch onto his outstretched palm. He hooks a finger under the black cord necklace and examines the smooth black stone hanging from it. Etched in gold is a symbol-it looks like an upside down dagger bracketed by two thick commas-and as the necklace sways from his finger, the gold turns molten when the light hits it.

"This is great," he says finally. "What that symbol mean, do you know?"

I exhale in relief. He seems to like it. "Well, there's a whole story behind it. I got it at a cool little shop in Hidden Cove. The owner guy makes these really awesome necklaces, and this one caught my eye. He told me all about the legend behind the symbol."

"There was this young couple-Arayna and Bob-who were desperately in love, but contact between the two was strictly forbidden because she was the daughter of a high priest and he was one of a long line of poor fisherman. So Arayna would sneak out every morning to tryst with Bob before he went off on his fis.h.i.+ng boat. Every night, she would go up to the highest mountain and arrange her fire stones with their symbol-endurance through fire-so he would know she was waiting for him."

"One day, a ma.s.sive storm rolled in, destroying everything in its path, and tossing boats about like they were toys. Arayna's only thought was of Bob, and she immediately ran to the mountain to light her fire stones. She waited all day, and all night, but Bob didn't return. She knew in her heart that he was out there, lost and searching for home. But the wake of the storm had the entire island shrouded in low-lying clouds, making it impossible for Bob to find his way back to her."

"Arayna knew there was only one hope. She went to her father, the high priest, and confessed her love for the poor fisherman. He was outraged, of course, and threatened her with disownment and social destruction. But she didn't care. She's like, 'If I can't be with Bob in this life, I'll throw myself into the sea so we can be together in the next one!' And her dad's like, 'Okay, fine.' So he called a town meeting, where Arayna basically spilled her guts in front of everyone. She got down on her knees, and begged for their help to save Bob's life. The entire village was swayed by her obvious love for him, and so they agreed to help."

"Everyone gathered up all their fire stones. They took them to the highest mountain, and arranged them in this symbol-big enough so that it lit up almost the entire side of the mountain. If Bob was out there, there would be no way he could miss it."

"Arayna kept vigil on the mountain. She waited for a week before he finally came back to her-half-drowned and starving-but alive, just like Arayna knew he was. Bob told her the only thing that kept him going was seeing their symbol, bigger than life on their mountain. He realized what she must have done, what she sacrificed for him, and immediately proposed to her..."

I trail off, watching Dean's reaction. He'd been listening intently the whole time, his head c.o.c.ked to the side, considering. When I stop, he smiles wryly. "And they lived happily ever after?"

"Well, no. Bob died a week later of spinal meningitis. But, not before he gave her a baby-a son." I held up a finger. "When the son grew up, they started a very successful fis.h.i.+ng business together. And they made their official logo this." I point to the stone.

Dean chuckles. He lifts the necklace up, and places it over his head. And just like that, it becomes elegant, s.e.xy, mysterious. It lies against his skin, the gold symbol flas.h.i.+ng in the light. I am so turned on seeing him wear it.

Well, d.a.m.n, at this point, what doesn't turn me on?

"Thank you," he says, slowly dragging me forward by my hips. "For the necklace, and the story."

"You're welcome," I gasp out when my body comes into contact with his.

I have just enough time to draw in a deep breath before Dean pulls me under with him.

I don't think I'll ever get enough of him...

Chapter 44.

Someone's pounding on the front door. Who in the world could it be at...one-fifteen in the morning?

Oh, my G.o.d.

All the blood drains from my face. "My mom," I whisper, springing into a sitting position.

I jump up from the bed, and tear out of the room. I hear Dean curse behind me, and call my name, but I don't stop. I half-run, half-fly down the stairs. Something must've happened to my mom...what else could it be?

Holding my breath, I throw the door open, bracing myself for the sight of uniformed officers with grim faces on the other side. Instead, Nick's standing there, gaping at me. My whole body sighs in relief.

Dean is suddenly there, scowling and moving me behind him. I belatedly realize that I'm just in a tank top and panties. Oops.

"Uh, man, I'm sorry," Nick stammers, focusing on Dean. "I tried calling both of you, but no one picked up..."

Dean grunts. He tosses something over to me-my robe. I hurriedly put it on. "What's up?" he growls to Nick while pulling his s.h.i.+rt over his head.

Thankfully, Nick doesn't comment on our state of undress. He's fairly bouncing with excitement. "Dude, Jason's in the hospital! Some guys from Larrabee jumped him. Guess he got caught messing around with one of their girlfriends."

I pop out from behind Dean, my robe tightly belted. "How bad is it?"

Nick's face darkens. "It was five to one, and Jason was drunk. He's pretty busted up."

Dean mutters something under his breath, running his hands through his damp hair. Then he turns to me, and his gaze softens. "Get dressed."

I give one sharp nod, then I'm running back up the stairs. I throw on some jeans, slip on a bra under my top, then I grab my jacket and our phones before heading back down. Dean nods his thanks when I hand him his phone, and then we're following Nick out the door, and into his Range Rover. The guys talk in low voices on the way to Jason and Ryan's house, and I can't hear anything but the occasional directions given in a computerized voice from Nick's navigation system. I briefly wonder how Nick knew that Dean was with me. Maybe Johnny told him, or maybe we aren't fooling anyone.

The twins live in a big Colonial style house, not far from Leclare. There are several cars parked in the driveway, and on the street in front, and it looks like all the lights in the house are on. I nervously trail behind the guys as they let themselves in the house. They head for the winding staircase in the middle of a living room straight out of a magazine.

Ryan's room is packed with big angry football players. Ryan, himself, is livid. He stomps around the room, vibrating with tension. "Cops aren't gonna do s.h.i.+t," he bites out, and I realize he's answering someone's question. "The f.u.c.kers had hoods on."

"And you can bet they have airtight alibis," Big Mack growls. He's standing in the middle of the room with his ma.s.sive arms crossed, looking like a thundercloud.

"So we take care of it ourselves," says Kris Russo, a big guy with a giant cloud of hair. He thumps a fist into the palm of his other hand, just like a bad movie thug.

I spot Johnny lounging against the wall with his crutches, so I carefully make my way over to him. Someone grabs my a.s.s on the way over, and jab an elbow into something solid. When I hear a pained grunt, I feel a little better.

"Hey," Johnny says, glancing over when I take the s.p.a.ce next to him.

"Hey, back. You okay?"

He looks exhausted. There are dark circles under his heavy-lidded eyes, and he's got a serious case of bed head. Looks good on him, though. Guys can get away with things like that, more than girls.

He lets his head fall back against the wall. "Just tired."

I'm briefly distracted by Ryan's raised voice. He's shouting at both Dean and Mack, waving his arms around for emphasis. I wince, and turn back to Johnny. "How badly is Jason hurt?"

"He got the s.h.i.+t beat out of him by those Larabee p.r.i.c.ks. He's only in the hospital 'cause someone called the cops, and he was falling down drunk." A bitter smile touches the corners of his mouth. "Not that I don't know what that's like."

"You did," I say, giving him a sharp look. "Are you guys gonna retaliate?"

Johnny s.h.i.+fts his weight uncomfortably, balancing with both crutches in front of him. "I don't know. Did you have s.e.x with Dean?"

"What?"

I turn my whole body to face him, my eyes big with shock at his sneaked-in question. "That's-that's none of your business!" I sputter, warmth splas.h.i.+ng into my cheeks.

Johnny's cerulean eyes stare into mine for a few intense seconds before he finally drops his gaze to the ground. "You're right," he mutters. "I just can't stop thinking about-never mind. s.h.i.+t. Sorry."

I'm really at a loss for words, so I look down, too, feeling horribly uncomfortable. What is there to say or do when an ex-boyfriend asks you if you've slept with your current boyfriend-who also happens to be his stepbrother?

"You don't have any right to ask me that," I say under my breath to him. "How many girls have you slept with since we broke up?"

"None."

When I whip my head up to stare at him in disbelief, he shrugs again. "Don't get me wrong-I haven't been a saint-but I haven't had s.e.x since...before I met you."

"Why?" I whisper.

"You know why." Johnny looks away.

I take a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. "Johnny..."

I can't think of anything to add after that, so I guess it's fortunate that Ryan's heated words interrupt us.

"Man, what do you know about loyalty?" he spats at Dean. "We all know the reason's Johnny's so f.u.c.ked up is 'cause you're banging Juliet! Ever heard of the saying 'bro's before ho's?'"

Before the words have fully left Ryan's lips, Dean slams into him, barreling him past their startled friends and shoving him against the wall. He pins Ryan back with a forearm against his throat; the other hand is clenched into a fist, c.o.c.ked and ready. I am transfixed by the sight. Dean's face is dark with violence, his body tensed in fight mode. I barely recognize him like this-he kind of scares the h.e.l.l out of me.

"s.h.i.+t," I hear Johnny mutter. He arranges his crutches under his arms, and starts limping forward.

The guys propel into action, trying to get between the two. Ryan is making strange gurgling noises, and his eyes bulge frantically. I don't think even Mack can pry Dean off of him. Fortunately, he doesn't have to. I can see the moment Dean regains control. His turquoise and gray/green eyes go blank, and he abruptly lets Ryan loose, taking a step back. Ryan drops to the ground, gasping.

"Chill, bro," Mack says quickly, holding up his hands cautiously at Dean. "He didn't mean it. He's just p.i.s.sed about his brother." He sends a glare at Ryan. "Apologize," he growls.

"Sorry, Juliet," Ryan chokes out. His face is slowly starting to return to its normal color as he uses the wall to get back to his feet.

I feel like falling bonelessly to the carpet, and slithering away like a snake. Instead, I raise my hand in acknowledgement. "Yeah," I say unenthusiastically.

Johnny suddenly smacks Ryan in the back of his head with the end of one of his crutches. "That's for saying I'm f.u.c.ked up." He scowls.

Dean's eyes find mine. He moves towards me, grabs my hand, and tows me away. I don't offer any resistance as he pulls me out of the room. Neither of us speak as he leads me outside. There's a brick planter with sunny yellow flowers in the front of the house. Dean lets go of my hand, and sits down, his head bent low. I stand in front of him, waiting.

"Sorry," he finally mutters. I watch his hands, resting on his lap, clench tightly.

"For what?" I force a laugh. "It's not your fault I'm a ho."

Dean glares at me. "You're not a ho."

He starts to look p.i.s.sed all over again, so I quickly change the subject. "Do you think Ryan and the others will do something stupid, and go after those guys?"

Dean slowly shakes his head, staring off into the night. "Larrabee's been baiting us since school started, but so far Mack and I have been able to keep everyone in line. Now...I don't know."

I sit down next to him, scooting closer for warmth. Dean doesn't seem to notice. "Hey," I say, nudging him. "If they do retaliate, that's not on you. You can't control them."

He continues to stare off into s.p.a.ce. "I hate not being in control," he says flatly.

Strangely, I get the feeling he's not talking about his teammates.

Chapter 45.

Jason comes to school the next day with his head the shape and color of a plum. I wonder why he's not at home, sleeping it off, but he totally seems to be enjoying the attention he's receiving. Girls don't fawn all over him like they do with Johnny, but they seem to think his situation is romantic. According to Nick, Jason really does like the Larrabee player's girlfriend. I'm not sure I believe it-I can't really see him serious about anyone besides Ryan. Tanya keeps trying to corner me to learn the latest gossip. I'm running out of places to hide, and I seriously consider skipping Biology-wait, no, there's a test today. c.r.a.p.

I am completely distracted in AP Lit. I'm partnered with Sloane, and we're supposed to be working together to answer a few essay questions on "Crime and Punishment". Sloane is very quiet. She suggest we split up the questions, and answer them separately. I happily agree.

Except I'm still on the first question. Who was Alyona again? Dean's desk is a few inches away from mine. He looks so good-how was I ever able to concentrate with him in the room? I ogle him out of the corner of my eye: the way he has to sit, slightly hunched over in his seat because the desk is too small for his tall frame, the smooth long lines of his body...that amazing face of his. Seriously, he won the genetic lottery, or something. Perfection like that can't just happen by accident, right? And how hot is it that he's wearing the necklace I got for him-?

Something hits me in the side of my head, startling me out of my drooling. It's a crumpled up piece of paper. I look up, scowling. Ben grins at me, and makes an obscene gesture, cutting his eyes toward Dean. Dean smacks him in the back of his head with a book without even looking. I glance over at Mr. Shannon, who is discreetly picking at his bellyb.u.t.ton. I quickly turn away.

The need to touch Dean is almost like a physical sickness. I consider stretching my foot out, just to nudge against his, but I worry that Mr. Shannon will end up tripping over it-he likes to make the rounds once in a while. I know I'm squirming in my seat, and Dean keeps giving me sideways glances. I can't wipe the secret smile off my face.

After cla.s.s, instead of heading off with Sloane, he grabs my arm and moves me against the wall, out of the hallway traffic. Everything in me tingles excitedly at his proximity. I breathe in the scent of cool autumn and hot male.

"Keep looking at me like that, and I'm dragging you to my car," he breathes near my ear.

I press my back against the wall, and look up at him with wide eyes. "Is that a threat or a challenge?"

Dean groans quietly, leaning his head against the wall above me. "I don't know," he mutters, briefly closing his eyes. When he opens them again, his expression turns determined. "Do you have to go to your dad's tomorrow?"

"Um...maybe not. Why?"

"I want to take you somewhere. For the whole night."

My heart stops-then starts again, thrumming wildly in my chest. The whole night? Does that mean...?

"Say yes," he urges, moving closer to me. Our bodies are nearly touching.

How can I say no to him? "Yes," I agree softly, and I'm instantly rewarded with one of his rare smiles.

Dean pushes off against the wall, backing away. "I'll see you later," he says.

"Wait, where are we going?" I call after him, apprehensive.

But he doesn't reply. Sloane is waiting for him, her face as blank and smooth as a doll's. When Dean reaches her, she says something to him that makes him shrug. They walk off together to their next cla.s.s.

I impatiently wait for the rest of the day to go by. I can't wait to get Dean alone so I can pester him for answers. Where is he taking me? To a hotel? Does that mean that we'll be sharing a bed for a whole night?

I text my dad, telling him I have a date, and would it be okay if I spent the day with him on Sunday. He happily agrees, and I have the feeling I have a Cerise to thank for that. I don't say anything to Mom. As far as she knows, I'll be at Dad's. I get the feeling she knows I have a guy staying with me, but she doesn't say anything to me. I think she's just too tired to make a fuss about it. I almost never see her, and I vacillate between being mad at her, and feeling sorry for her. Okay, maybe I feel a little guilty, too-which is why I've been making all her favorite dishes lately.