Kiss at Your Own Risk Read online

  “Assuming I don’t kill anyone between now and then, yep.” Trinity had etched that date in her mind five years ago, when she’d forced herself to visit her last true love in the morgue, her ice cream cone still lodged in his carotid. She’d stood over his mint chocolate chip scented body and vowed to him that she would break the cycle, that no one else would fall victim to the blackness coursing through her veins. The black widow curse was a fickle creature, and if Trinity could go five years without killing, the curse would leave her.

  She had no clue how she’d been lucky enough to acquire the curse. No one did. She’d been kidnapped as a baby for six months, and when the police had found her in a pet store snuggling in a pile of puppies, no one had known what had happened to her.

  Until she’d turned sixteen and fallen in love for the first time. It hadn’t taken Trinity and her parents long to figure out what had happened, and the Internet was rife with all the info she needed to find out exactly what was wrong with her and how to break it.

  Diagnosis: Evil killer bitch. (Sigh.)

  Treatment: Abstain. (Yeah, so easy. Not. Way harder than giving up caffeine and chocolate. You don’t believe? Pick your worst habit and try to break it. Not so easy, eh? And you’re not even compelled to do it by some wicked, supernatural force.)

  Worst-Case Prognosis: Forever a murderer if she killed five times. (Up to four now. The first couple of years had been tough…)

  Best-Case Prognosis: Forever free if she could go five years without killing anyone. (One week left.)

  She was down to d-day, and she knew her curse wasn’t going to let her go easily.

  “So, not that I don’t fully support killing, you know, as Death’s assistant, but as your friend, I really want you to succeed.” Reina twirled her wineglass between her thumb and finger. “I talked to Death and got him to offer up his cabin in Minnesota. We could take a girl’s week and watch bad movies and avoid men.”

  “Oh, wow.” Relief rippled through Trinity at the thought of escaping. “That sounds so good.”

  “Fantastic.” Reina grabbed her iPhone and started dialing. “I’ll just call him and let him know. Don’t want any of his harem girls hanging around when we get there—”

  Trinity set her hand over the phone. “I can’t duck out on this, Reina.”

  Reina pried Trinity’s fingers off her mobile device. “Why not? Running away is a basic human reaction when pure, unadulterated hell comes looking for you. People try to flee from me all the time. “

  Trinity raised her brows. “And does it work when they hide from you?”

  Reina shrugged. “Well, no, but I’m really persistent.”

  “And the curse isn’t?”

  “Mmm… true. But this is different. I mean—”

  “No.” Trinity leaned forward. “I need to prove to myself that I’m stronger than the curse.” If she could resist temptation while under the dictates of the curse, she would be able to believe in herself, to know there was something worthy in her soul. “I need to know I’m not some evil killer who uses the curse as an excuse to do bad things.”

  It scared the daylights out of her whenever she got caught in the thrall and watched herself do horrible things to good people. Her family and Reina all gave the curse full credit for her actions, but she couldn’t help but think that if she was good enough, strong enough, that she should be able to stop herself. She had to know what the truth was. Had to know that somewhere inside her was a person worth liking.

  Reina studied her, clicking her tongue quietly. “You have no idea what a good soul you have, do you? You should see some of the scumbags I go after. Those are bad people—”

  “Trinity? Trinity Harpswell?”

  Trinity glanced up to see two women standing beside her table. They were both wearing suits and looked like consummate professional types. Probably had careers that took them into close proximity with men every day, unlike Trinity’s job at a company that helped divorced women turn their lives around. Had these women been to one of the support groups? Is that how they knew her? “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you—”

  “It is you.” One of the women grabbed Trinity’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

  Trinity shot a look at Reina, who shrugged. “Um, I think you may have me confused with—”

  “You aren’t the woman who singlehandedly murdered the Boston Bedtime Strangler in your own bed?”

  Ohh… Trinity pulled her hand free. “His name was Barry Baldini, and he was a good man—”

  “Yes, that’s her,” Reina interrupted. “But it’s still very traumatic for her. If you don’t mind—”

  “Oh, of course.” The woman ducked her head in acknowledgement. “I just wanted to say that you are such an inspiration for me. The way you were able to stand up against a man who had oppressed so many women, when the cops had no clue how to stop him. You’re total girl power.” She gave a sheepish grin and did a little “hoot hoot” fist waving thing. “You’re the reason I went to law school, and I’m now the assistant district attorney, and I put away scumbags like the Strangler every day—”

  Trinity’s fist clenched in her lap. “He wasn’t a scum—”

  “Thank you,” Reina interrupted, kicking Trinity under the table. “Have a nice day.”

  Trinity glared at Reina as the women hurried away. “Barry wasn’t a scumbag, and I don’t deserve accolades for killing him. It was murder—”

  “Drink, girl. You need to chill.” Reina pushed her wineglass across the table. “He strangled two dozen women. The females of Boston are lucky you fell in love with him and killed him. Give yourself a break. The whole reason you started to date him is because he was such a misogynist pig that you knew there was no way you could fall in love with him. He wasn’t that good of a guy, even aside from the serial killer thing.”

  Trinity’s heart tightened at the thought of their last night together, when Barry had made dinner for her, presented her with champagne and roses, and told her she had showed him how to love himself for the first time in his life. In that moment, she had lost her heart to him, and an hour later, he’d lost his life to her. “Yes, I know he had bad traits, but beneath all that, he was a really caring and sensitive guy. I had no clue he was the Strangler when I killed him. I offed him because he was a good guy—”

  “And if the rest of the world thinks you killed him because he snuck into your room to torture and strangle you, then you need to let it stay that way.” Reina rolled her eyes. “You have to stop defending him. I mean, he deserved to die. He killed all those people—”

  “So, anyone who kills innocent people deserves to die? Like me?”

  Reina’s eyes flared. “Oh, come on, don’t start with that. You know you’re different. You’re being compelled.”

  “So was he. Yeah, it wasn’t a curse, but it was still a compulsion. What makes me so much better?” Her parents had always told her that she wasn’t a bad person, that it wasn’t her fault, but how did they know? She was the only one who felt that satisfaction pulse through her when she stood over the body of a man she loved. Yeah, she was usually crying and felt like throwing up, but deep inside, there was always this feeling of pride. Maybe it was the curse. Maybe it was her true inner being.

  She had to find out which it was.

  “You’re a good person!” Reina argued. “You—”

  “Don’t you understand how scared I am that I’m like Barry? That I should be killed to save everyone else from me?” Trinity fingered the heart bracelet on her wrist. The one that had “believe” engraved on each charm. “I need to know I’m different. I have to know that I’m more. The only way I’m going to prove it to myself is if I can face the curse and have enough goodness in my soul to trump my need to kill. “

  Reina sighed. “I hate it when you manage to make the insane sound logical.”

  Trinity let out her breath. “So, you’ll help me get through this week? I’m not going to hide. I have to face it
.”

  Reina shook her head in resignation. “Fine. I’ll help you, but I still think we should take a girl’s retreat at the cabin. Why risk being damned for all eternity just because you need to prove something to yourself?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I know. And I’ll support you, but I’m going to try to keep talking you out of it.” Reina took her wineglass back from Trinity, who hadn’t even considered touching it.

  As if she was going to lower her inhibitions with alcohol right now. Seriously.

  Reina took a sip of her wine, then set the glass down on the table. “Okay, well, I was going to surprise you with this, but I feel like maybe you need some inspiration. A proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. A kick in the pants to stop you from feeling all weepy and morose about what a bad person you are.”

  “I’m not weepy. I’m realistic. There’s a difference.” Trinity picked up a roll and pulled it apart. Steam rose from it, and she inhaled the scent of fresh bread. Reina had insisted on the nicest restaurant in Boston, and it was worth it for the rolls. “And your surprises scare me. You remember when you invited Death to be a stripper at my twenty-first birthday, and my mom thought he’d come to take me?” She rolled her eyes. “I had no idea my mom could throw a baseball that hard. She actually knocked him out.”

  Reina winced. “Okay, so that wasn’t my best effort, but this surprise is a good one.” She held up her iPhone, showing a silhouette of a man leaning against a telephone pole. The photo was dark, and Trinity couldn’t even make out his face in the shadows. “Assuming that you do manage to keep your hands off the jugulars of the opposite sex for the next week, I have a guy for you to meet.” Mischief twinkled in Reina’s pale blue eyes. “I already arranged a date with him, starting one minute after your curse expires. No time to waste, girlfriend. You deserve to live again.”

  “A date?” Instinctively, Trinity tensed up. Dates were such bad news. Even dating a misanthropic serial killer hadn’t been enough to keep her hands clean. Seemed like the bigger jerks they were, the more she saw herself in them and felt empathy. “I can’t—”

  “But you can. That’s the point. Come Sunday, you can date again.” Reina grinned. “For real.”

  For real. Trinity took a deep breath and tried to unclench her fingers. “It feels so weird to think I could actually let myself like someone.” The only dates she’d had for years had been guys intentionally picked for their degree of heinousness. The curse was ruthless in its quest for her to find true love, and she’d had to figure out how to satisfy the urges it created in her while somehow avoiding finding Mr. Right. Reina had been extremely helpful in tracking down the more scum-laden eligible bachelors for the occasional date. “How many tentacles does he have?”

  “None! And no horrific stench emanating from various body parts.” Reina wiggled her eyebrows. “I think he’s just right for you. He’s tall, really muscular, and can crush buildings simply by thinking about it.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.” Trinity took a sip of her tap water and rolled the cool liquid around in her mouth. A little ripple of hope quivered in her heart that maybe, just maybe, on Sunday she would really be in a position to date again. To trust herself. To believe she deserved the chance to be happy.

  “And the best part is that he was in prison for homicide for twelve years,” Reina continued. “So he won’t judge you for the four boyfriends you’ve already killed.”

  “No.” Trinity set her glass down. “I’m not dating a murderer.”

  Reina raised her brows. “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think? I mean, you did fall in love with the Boston Bedtime Strangler, plus you’ve left a trail of corpses behind you.”

  Trinity bit her lip. “If I make it to Sunday, I want to start over. Leave it behind. Begin a new life. No more deaths. Of any kind. By anyone.”

  Reina patted Trinity’s hand. “Sweetie, I love you, and I think you’re a wonderful person, but you’ve murdered four men. You can’t suddenly become someone new. For heaven’s sake, you smell like death. I can get a high off you when you’re a hundred yards away. That will never change.”

  “It has to.” Trinity began to drum her fingers on the table. “Sunday isn’t only about leaving the curse behind. It’s about starting over and—”

  “Trin!”

  She looked up at the frantic shout. Her dad, Elijah Harpswell, was running toward her, dodging the tables set with fine china. He leapt over a distinguished patron in a tux and nearly took out the man’s beautifully adorned date. Elijah was wearing jeans, an old T-shirt, rainbow flip-flops, and he had wet clay splotches on his clothes.

  His artist attire.

  He never allowed anything to interrupt a sculpting session.

  “Dad!” She leapt to her feet, all too aware nothing short of death would drag her dad away from work. Was it her mom? Her stomach congealed and she gripped the edge of the table. “What’s wrong?”

  Chapter 2

  Jarvis let the sword drop to his side as the schnoodle neared them. “Is she serious? A little tiny dog?” He held out his boot. “Come on, Cujo. I dare you to try to get those little teeth through my hide.”

  “It’s not a dog.” Blaine had been one of the test subjects when the witch was perfecting this particular creation. The first time, it had ripped half the skin from his body.

  The second time, he’d blown it up.

  And then she’d sicced forty of those puppies on him at once. That day had seriously challenged his love for four-legged creatures of any kind.

  “It only looks like a dog.” Blaine forced the fire to spread over his body. Burned like the acid the spiders had dripped on him last week. He hated arachnids.

  The schnoodle launched itself into the air from a good thirty yards away, aiming straight for Jarvis.

  Jarvis snorted with amusement. “Bring it on, killer.” He rested the tip of his sword on the floor and leaned on the handle. “Yeah, so scary.”

  Blaine folded his arms and leaned against the wall. He raised his brows at Nigel. “Just watch. This’ll be good.”

  “You’d think the karate kid would’ve learned not to underestimate her by now.” Nigel lifted his palms, and smoking black blades slid out of his fingertips. Fiery hot branding irons that cauterized as they cut. Handy for surgery. Not so fun to have one fishing around inside your belly. And Blaine knew that for a fact because the witch often forced them to torture each other. Her primary goal had been to test their offensive and defensive talents, but she’d also wanted them to hate each other. But there was nothing like stabbing your buddy in the heart to make guys bond. Women never got that.

  Jarvis sheathed his sword. “It’s a freaking Chihuahua, guys. You’ve been watching too many horror movies—” The pooch’s head suddenly elongated, its tail exploded with spikes, and barbed wings burst out of its back. Its eyes turned rose red and acid dripped from the tips of its claws. Curly fur gave way to scales, and its little pearly whites were replaced with glistening jaws of salivating saber teeth. And then it exploded forward, like a bat out of hell, right at Jarvis’s throat. Jarvis dove out of the way, avoiding decapitation by about a millimeter. “What the hell’s that?”

  “Nice reaction time. Didn’t realize you could move that fast.” Blaine tracked the assault weapon screeching through the air. “Designer monster. Cross-breed a schnoodle with a shapeshifting dragon and a demon runt, and you get the perfect weapon for invading receptions at megamansions and spying on the blueblood families who prefer their dogs to be one of a kind.” The schnoodemgon rose up high, hovering in midair above the men. It was too close for Blaine to use a blue ball. Even he wouldn’t survive its blast.

  The beat of its wings was so loud it sounded like an oncoming locust invasion, and the wind made Nigel’s locks flutter. The damn things came halfway down his ass. Hauling those chick magnets around all day was half the reason the man was built like a linebacker.

  “It’s p
art hummingbird too. Look at the sucker hover.” Jarvis was holding his sword in an offensive position, but not striking for first blood. Like the rest of them, Jarvis was too seasoned to launch a premature attack at an unfamiliar assailant before they knew what it was capable of. “What’s it doing?”

  “Trying to decide who to eat first.” The mutt was getting larger, its wingspan almost up to ten feet already. Blaine’s lungs tightened, and he coughed to try to clear his chest. Then his flames began to flicker, and he realized what was happening. “It’s feeding off the oxygen in the air.” Last time he’d had the pleasure of meeting the creature, it hadn’t had that talent. Clearly, their warden had tweaked it with the goal of taking on Blaine.

  For a psychotic bitch, she was impressive as hell.

  Tweety Bird let out a sudden shriek and dove straight for Blaine.

  He grinned. About time he could fight without having some overly controlling chick pulling his strings.

  He waited. And waited. And waited. The instant his assailant entered his auric field, he triggered his flames. The explosion was instant, deafening. The creature shrieked, and the detonation catapulted it into the wall. It exploded into a pile of black dirt instantly upon impact.

  “Well, I think it’s safe to say that wasn’t a schnoodle.” Jarvis’s sword was on fire from absorbing the energy from Blaine’s explosion, but Jarvis and Nigel were intact. Blaine’s team was well-versed in self-defense when around one of Blaine’s ignitions, and they’d been quick to position themselves behind Jarvis’s sword and its handy ability to absorb energy blasts. “Nice shot.”

  The scrabble of more feet filled the air, like thousands of fingernails on a blackboard.

  Jarvis jerked his sword up. “That sounds like a lot. You think that’s a lot?”

  “Nah.” Blaine’s fingers closed around his flaming balls. One sphere would take out a large chunk of their assailants, but he didn’t dare use it until he knew where Christian was. It grated at him to be rendered weaponless, and he was going to shove one of the damn balls down Christian’s throat when he finally showed up. “Maybe just a few million of them. Nothing we can’t handle.” As a unit, they began moving toward the exit.