Page 33 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

We’re still sitting on the wet pavement, but my eyes wander over his slim frame, his wet clothes sinfully clinging to his body, and a wave of pure want sweeps over me.

Fuck.

I have a feeling I’m in trouble, especially with the way he’s currently glaring in my direction. I try to tear my gaze away—honest, I do. But I can’t. We sit there in silence and watch each other.

The storm has lessened in intensity and moves off into the distance although the rain has yet to let up, and he continues to shake. The restaurant behind us is still shrouded in darkness, but there are several pinpricks of soft flickering light from inside, indicating that the staff have started to light candles. The street is also dark, the streetlamps seemingly also affected by the power outage.

That was one hell of a storm. I’m not sure exactly what happened or why, but I do know it wasn’t natural. Based on the way he reacted and the sparks of lightning that had come from his hands while we were inside, Harrison seemed to know it too. There’s something about him, something I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe he was born with some sort of preternatural gift. It’s rare but not uncommon. The crazy thing is, I lived the first thirty-odd years of my life thinking the supernatural wasn’t real.

Now I know different. I am different.

I wasn’t born this way. My strange abilities come from my brush with death.

My stomach clenches as do my fists. I don’t want to think about that night. Ever. For a second, I want to close my eyes against the painful ghost of a memory. I don’t though. I can’t with the pretty and intriguing redhead watching me.

His expression shifts slightly, and it seems like he can see my internal battle. But it’s him I’m more concerned about. Whatever took place here tonight affected Harrison severely. I want to ask him what happened. I want to ask him a lot of things, but something tells me he’d clam up tight.

He’s not used to trusting people, that’s plain to see. He’s so far out of his comfort zone that it’s nothing more than a dot on the horizon. I believe him when he says he doesn’t need the hospital, that they can’t help him, but I still don’t think he should be alone.

“We need to get out of the rain.” I turn to Tristan as he sneezes loudly and realise Danny is nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Danny?”

“He’s gone to get the car.” Tristan sneezes again.

I climb to my feet, my head throbbing a little from where it made contact with the ground, but I feel okay otherwise. The same can’t be said for Harrison, who sways a little.

I reach down and offer my hand. He stares at it for a moment before reaching for it. Another little zip of electricity arcs between our palms as they connect, and once again it casts my mind back to the strange microbursts of lightning flickering across his skin earlier.

Oh yes, he’s definitely a puzzle I want to solve.

I carefully help him to his feet, but as he straightens up, he sways alarmingly. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his waist and take his weight until he’s steady.

“Whoa.” I frown. “Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?”

He shakes his head. “I need a hot shower and some sleep. I’m drained, not injured.”

“Drained?”

The sudden rosy cheeks and throat from his blush are a good sign. At least, he has some more colour in his starkly pale face. It makes me want to see him blush more, and I absently wonder if he flushes all over his body. My gaze trails over his exposed throat, taking in all his freckles. I’m desperate to see how far down they go.

“You can let go of me now,” Harrison says a little breathlessly. “I don’t need your help.”

“Maybe I like you holding onto me, Freckles.” I smile.

“I’m not holding onto you,” he says stiffly as I look across to his hands, which are gripping my shoulders.

“Can you two flirt some other time when I’m not soaked and freezing to death?” Tristan says through chattering teeth.

“We’re not flirting.” Harrison releases my shoulders sharply, pulling back until I release him.

He seems to be steady enough on his feet. My gaze is drawn away by the beep of a car horn and as I look across, Danny pulls up to the kerb.

Tristan literally throws himself into the passenger seat. “Get in, you two,” he yells impatiently.

I open the back door and stand aside to let Harrison climb in first, then follow him in and close the door. The windows are fogged up, and we’re all shivering by the time Danny pulls away. The silence in the car is stilted and awkward as Danny heads toward an address in Islington.

By the time we pull up at the back of a building, which is where I assume Harrison lives, he looks slightly better but exhausted. I wish I could take him inside and make him some soup while he takes a hot shower and gets into some dry clothes. I want to make sure he eats and drinks something before going to bed, but I know it’s not my place. We don’t know each other well enough for that, and to be honest, I’ve never done that for anyone before.

I’ve had hookups but I’ve never been in a relationship, and that cosy little scene my mind just conjured up has a rather nauseating ring of domesticity to it that should have me running for the hills. Don’t get me wrong, I am kind of internally freaking out, but there’s also something innately appealing about the thought, especially if I expand the fantasy to include me in that hot shower with him.