Текст книги "Sweet Temptation"

Автор книги: Wendy Higgins

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

CHAPTER SIX

Pears and Oranges

“I keep a sinister smile and a hold of my heart.

You want to get inside, then you can get in line, but not this time.”

—“Hero/Heroine” by Boys Like Girls

Winning over Anna means walking a fine line. In many ways she’s like other girls—she giggles and blushes and is flattered when I flirt—but only to a certain extent. Unlike most other girls I’ve met, Anna is an “old soul.” She’s like a proper old woman in a hot, young body. She can be a downright prude biddy, saying things like, “Do you think you could try to be a gentleman . . . and maybe wear shorts to bed?” and “This is going to be a long trip if you give girls the bedroom eyes every time we stop.”

I’ll admit, I love to shock her. I stood there nude this morning, wanting her to see exactly what was available for the taking. But cripes, I hadn’t expected her to scream like a banshee. And that’s the problem: I’m not the only one doing the shocking here. She continues to render me speechless with nonchalant admissions, like “I can sense pregnancies” and “I can feel other people’s suffering.”

Exactly how powerful is this girl? She can bloody well do angel things. And her angel voodoo has other power, as well, such as the power to make me open my mouth and say entirely too damn much. She’s just so selfless. So genuinely interested. There are brief moments when I feel . . . I don’t bloody know how to explain it . . . but I don’t feel myself.

I’m supposed to be making her fall for me. I’m supposed to be reminding her that I’m badass, and then crafting moments of comfort and openness. Well¸ that’s exactly what’s happening, but I’m not crafting shite. Instead I’m feeling it. She’s using her skills on me.

This girl is dangerous.

She’s got the talents of a cookie-making nana, a world-renowned psychologist, and a seductive succubus all in one. And the most mind-bending part is that she has no clue about her effect on me. It’s only been two days and I’m torn between wanting to throw her to the wolves before she infects my mind any further or hide her and keep her all for myself.

And now she’s asking me about other girls. About my motives when I work. She is digging too deep and assuming I’m some sad chump who feels bad for what I do.

But I don’t.

Yet it’s not to my benefit to announce what a heartless bastard I am. It is good she’s talking nonstop, though. In our quiet moments all I can think about is having sex with her—pulling over behind an oversized road sign, or lifting her onto my lap as I drive.

And then as I drive she says something that throws a spanner in the works.

“. . . I care about you.”

Her words reverberate through me and fill me with a sense of terror.

“Don’t say that,” I snap. I am shaking on the inside. This is what I wanted, right? For her feelings to grow. But it’s not how I thought it would be. It’s far more complicated, because now I’m feeling things I didn’t anticipate, like guilt, and I can’t understand why. “You shouldn’t say that, about caring. You hardly know me.”

She’s too foolish. Too open and trusting, watching me with those fawn eyes. Damn it, she needs to know the constant danger she will be in for the rest of her life. She needs to understand how I live and breathe that danger every day. She needs to lose her virginity, to convince the Dukes she’s one of us. If she doesn’t embrace her life as a Neph, the Dukes will end it for her.

“And you hardly know me, but here we are,” she says. “You offered to take me on this trip. You’ve answered my gazillion questions. You haven’t forced me to do anything, and you haven’t exposed me to your father. I’m glad to be here with you.”

No. Stupid feelings. I will not let those warm, chocolate-chip-cookie words soften me. I hold the wheel tightly and stare at her.

God, she’s pushy. Question after question. Not satisfied with half answers. Searching for what she wants to hear—that I’m a “good guy” underneath.

“Why are you trying so hard to make me think you’re a bad person?” she asks.

Just like the human woman, Patti, Anna won’t be satisfied with anything but the truth. So I’ll give it to her.

“Because it would be best for you to have a healthy fear of me so you can’t say you weren’t warned. I’m not like the boys at your school. Think of the pull you feel toward drugs. That is how I feel about sex.”

Her face slackens with understanding. That’s right. We both live with an insatiable beast inside.

“Starting to get it now? Let me be even clearer. I can feel someone out within five minutes of conversation to know what I would have to say and do to lure her into bed. That includes you, though I admit I was off my game last night. With some people it’s a matter of simple flattery and attention. With others it takes more time and energy. I do whatever it takes to get their clothes off, and then I attempt to make it so they’ll never be with another person and not think of me. I know secrets of the human body most people don’t even know about themselves. And when I leave, I know they’re ruined when they’re begging me to stay.”

It’s my legacy. I have no regrets.

As Anna watches me with wide eyes, gray zaps of fear burst inside her aura. She understands.

“It’s about time,” I say.

New Mexico brings more awe-filled staring out the windows at the passing scenery, and more questions about the hierarchy of demons and Neph. It’s insane how much she doesn’t know. She wants to learn, even though the details sadden her to tears. Hopefully this knowledge will allow her to begin seeing the dark, whispering spirits, which she should have been able to see for years now. It has to be her innocence that keeps her from seeing them. She needs to know what they’re up to so she can stay safe when I’m no longer around.

When we stop for night two, I’m surprised that Anna allows us to share a room again. Naughty possibilities immediately fill my mind, and I have to tamp them down. I will not lose my head again.

I stand on the second-story balcony with my arms crossed while Anna talks to her mum on the phone. And yes, I use my powers to listen through the glass. I listened to all their conversations in Georgia, as well, and they knew it. Sue me.

“Just be careful not to let your guard down,” Patti says.

Good advice. Only Anna doesn’t have a “guard.” She is an unshielded open book.

“Okay. Love you,” Anna says in that sweet voice of hers.

“I love you, too.”

Anna makes a kiss sound, and Patti does it back, and they both laugh.

Their relationship fascinates me. They say those three words every single time. And I get a fucking shiver down my spine each time I hear it. What is that like? To know someone feels that way for you, no matter what, and would do anything for you? Everything I’ve seen about love is fickle. People don’t work for it. They take it for granted. They abuse it. But these two . . . they embrace it.

I listen as Anna lets herself out of the room with a soft click. Her footsteps down the carpeted hall. The whir of a vending machine dispensing. Minutes later she is opening the sliding door and standing behind me. I wonder if she’ll touch me. I wait for it, wanting it. But instead she steps to my side and presses cold water against my arm. She got one for me, of course. Always thoughtful.

“Thanks.” Our arms touch, sending a rush of heat through me. I think about kissing her again, right out here in the fading dusk of light, but I know it’s not time. Her aura is unsure. She’s both happy and nervous, but not lustful, as we lean against the railing together.

She looks sweet in a ponytail that began high this morning but now droops loosely as if it’s had enough of this traveling business. I want to run my fingers through it, let it slide heavily over my hands, maybe give it a tug to make her gasp.

Cripe. Bad Kai.

Anna flinches a little and sniffs, and for a moment I wonder if she can bloody well read thoughts, because she leaves me to go back in the hotel room. I listen as she walks into the bathroom, and it sounds as if she’s touching my toiletry bag. Perhaps she needs to borrow a razor for her legs. Ha.

I smile and go inside. What I see in the bathroom makes me accidentally chuckle. Anna Whitt is sniffing my deodorant.

When she hears me she startles, dropping the deodorant into the sink with a clatter and a scream. Everything about this amuses me. And turns me on. Because, yeah, she’s touching and smelling my stuff. I can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, that must have looked really bad,” she says as she fumbles to put my things away. “I was just trying to figure out what cologne you wear.”

Ah. I see. This is an interesting turn of events. She’s caught my scent.

I cross my arms and move into the room, trying not to show how much I’m enjoying this. “I haven’t been wearing any cologne.”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Let’s just forget about it.”

Not a chance.

“What is it you smell, exactly?” Ginger told me what my pheromones smelled like when we were younger, and if that’s what Anna is detecting, that means she’s been opening her senses unknowingly. I move forward, wanting her to look at me, but she won’t. That’s okay. Judging by her mix of anxiety, excitement, confusion, and lust, I’m affecting her just fine.

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s like citrus and the forest or something . . . leaves and tree sap. I can’t explain it.”

Ginger said I smelled like sour kumquats and dirt, the cow. I think she just enjoyed saying kumquat. “Citrus? Like lemons?”

“Oranges mostly. And a little lime, too.”

I like her description a lot more than Gin’s. I flick the hair from my eyes. Things are about to get serious.

“What you smell are my pheromones, Anna.”

Her laugh is a shrill, nervous burst, as if she doesn’t believe me.

“Oh, okay, then. Well . . .” Anna tries to leave the bathroom, but I shift to block her. We are not finished yet.

“People can’t usually smell pheromones. You must be using your extra senses without realizing it. I’ve heard of Neph losing control of their senses with certain emotions. Fear, surprise.” Wait for it. . . . “Lust.”

Embarrassment rises up, but there is still a hint of red lining the bottom of her aura as she babbles a lame excuse about her senses. She is far too adorable to be trapped in a bathroom with the likes of me.

“Would you like to know your own scent?” I ask.

Her eyes widen as they dart around the bathroom. “Uh, not really. I think I should probably go.”

I think not.

“You smell like pears with freesia undertones.”

“Wow, okay.” She clears her throat, and her aura pops with lust. “I think I’ll just . . .” She presses herself against the sink to inch past me, as if touching me will set off a bomb. I hold up my hands, far too amused.

She rushes about the room, stuffing her feet into sneakers. If she thinks to escape me, she’d better think again. I’m not letting her out of this hotel without me. And she can be in denial all she wants, but there will be more snogging tonight.

“Going somewhere?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m going for a run.”

Not alone you’re not. “Mind if I join you?”

“Only if you’ll do something for me.”

My eyebrows go up.

“Teach me to hide my colors,” she says.

Eh, not exactly what I had in mind. Very well, then. Skills now, snogging later.

I watch her arse as she climbs the rocks ahead of me, and I’m glad I’m wearing loose shorts. I need to calm down before we get up there. It’s a bit easier when she reaches the top and sits, successfully obstructing any view of her backside. I give myself a moment, then pull up next to her and lie down. I stretch out on the warm, lumpy rock surface, staring up at the sky.

Trying not to think about sex.

Last night’s escapade was not enough. Even with all I divulged to Anna today, I daresay she’s not ready to sleep with me yet. Perhaps I’m going about this all wrong. Perhaps I should pretend to be smitten. Is that what she’d prefer? Maybe if . . .

What is she doing? I go completely still as her hand tentatively touches my knuckles and her fingers slide between mine, soft and warm and small.

She’s holding my hand.

Why is my heart beating so fast? And why does it feel like we’re going entirely too fast and too slow all at once? I search the skies for dark whisperers, stretching my senses in a wide arc, but there’s no sign of spirits.

I let myself feel her hand in mine, even though Kaidan Rowe does not hold hands. The gesture is so simple. So lovely that it rocks something deep inside me. I contemplate pulling away, but decide to let it continue, telling myself it’s all an act, and that two hands touching is not a monumental event.

We lie there a bit longer, holding hands and chatting. She pays close attention as I explain how I visualize the hiding of my aura, and her eagerness draws me in. I find myself wanting her to learn—wanting to assist her. An hour flies by. I’m shocked and relieved by how quickly she catches on. Think of all the other things I can teach her.

That thought sends a shot of lust straight to my groin, and I shift.

Damn it. Focus. We’re not finished working on her aura.

Hiding emotions is much more difficult in real terms. I need to see how she handles disguising her feelings under duress. I need to rattle her. Naturally, lust is the first thing that comes to mind, so I let my instincts take over.

“You know, for the record, Anna, I won’t think any less of you if you change your mind about doing the things my father expects.”

Please change your mind, I silently beg. Let me train you and have your body just once. Then maybe this ridiculous craving for her will go away.

I touch her ankle and let my fingers and palm slide up the back of her smooth calf. She is frozen under my touch, trying not to let it affect her. I can see the concentration on her face when her small throat flexes with a swallow. I watch her chest heave in shallow gasps as my fingers meet the bend at the back of her knee, running across the soft crevice. Words pour out of me, an insatiable need growing like a live thing inside me.

“It’s just you and me right now, Anna. I felt you come alive when we kissed, and I know you’re afraid of that. Afraid to unleash that other side of yourself.” I don’t realize how true the words are until they’re out of me. Her eyes are wide. “But you needn’t worry. I can handle her.”

I can and I want to. I’m not interested in taming her. Together we could be a wildfire, out of control, feeding off each other’s breaths. Wanting, needing, taking, consuming. God, it could be so good.

My hand moves farther up, cupping the muscle of her thigh. I want to keep going, but her hand firmly locks around my wrist to stop me.

I search the aura around her, desperate to see a shock of red. I lean in, ready to devour her mouth the moment her lust shows, but it never does, and the disappointment I feel is palpable. It’s a kick to the sack, physically, but mentally I’m torn between being proud of her acquired skills and yet dying to see her colors again. I need to know what she’s feeling.

“No,” she says. I marvel at how her voice can be soft and firm at the same time. Our eyes lock, and there’s so much stirring in her depths. Her long, blond ponytail hangs lazily over one shoulder, untamed wisps of hair escaping. That hair, the way she always ties it back, it’s like a symbol of her wild beauty kept under wraps. I want to let it loose. I want Anna to come undone in my hands.

It’s only lust, I tell myself. But seducing Anna is proving to be a different sensation—something foreign and distinctly dangerous.

It’s because she’s Neph, I reason.

It’s because she’s your most difficult conquest yet.

It’s because her angel voodoo is fucking with your head.

Yes. All of it.

I break away from her and bend a knee to block my body’s reaction to the lust test. She watches my face closely, always searching.

“Sorry, I had to play dirty,” I tell her, and she sort of nibbles her lip. “Some people work better under pressure. Now, if you don’t mind, I should probably walk it off.”

Yeah, I need to get away from her. I jump down from the rocks and pace, breathing in the night air. When my body is finally under control, I find Anna waiting patiently atop the rock. My stomach stirs with a strange feeling at the sight of her, and I want to stab myself for being so weak.

I reach up to help her down, saying, “Come on.” She takes my hand without hesitation, and we walk silently to the hotel.

I’m relieved she’s learned to hide her emotions. We’re one step closer to having her trained. Now all I have to do is bang the innocence out of her, deliver her to her demon father, and find out what that nun lady wants with her. Then I can deliver her back to the world in good conscience, and never have to see her again.

I’m halfway through my shower when it becomes glaringly obvious that I cannot go an entire day without being sated by another willing person. There is no way around it. I was careful tonight not to lose myself to the beast, but it’s always there, under the surface, starving for another fix no matter how well I tamp it down. I’ve always simply accepted it, and for the first time ever, I’m resenting this urge.

What I really want to do is go into that room and claim my place directly between Anna’s lovely legs. But I know she’s not having any of it. Yet. And I don’t have time for a long seduction. I cannot focus. The painful ache is returning to my abdomen, a dense tugging, and I need sex now.

I come out of the restroom in cargo shorts, and Anna’s eyes flicker over my bare chest. I look for her aura before remembering she can hide it now. But her eyes say enough. She likes what she sees. If only she’d act on it.

I pull a shirt from my bag and finish dressing. It’s time to go. I clear my throat, suddenly nervous, which is shite. I cannot possibly care what she thinks. I’m being an idiot.

“Right, then,” I say. “I’ll just, um, be out for a bit.”

Her entire being slumps with disappointment, and I feel as if she’s kicked my chest.

“Don’t go,” she says. Another kick. Where is this coming from?

This is who I am, and I refuse to let her make me feel guilty. Anger rises instead, and I grasp it, feeling more at home in its prickly embrace. Where I really want to be is here, tangled with her, but I know that’s not going to happen, which pisses me off.

“I have to work, Anna. Either out there or in here.”

Tell me to stay, little Ann. Crook your finger and beckon me over.

“It wouldn’t kill you to take a night off,” she says, jutting out her tiny chin.

It’s kick number three, and anger is giving over to a strong flood of fury.

“Is that so?” I tell myself to relax, but her self-control and judgment and lack of understanding make me want to shake her. Words drip from my mouth like venom. “Says the little doll who’s never had to work a day in her life?” She is not being what she’s supposed to be. I am. She doesn’t know that once you give in to the beast there’s no going back. You must feed it.

But she keeps pushing me—keeps talking about shite she can’t comprehend—keeps trying to make me feel bad for what I am.

“It’s not like demons are monitoring your behavior,” Anna says.

She cannot see the demons, the whisperers. She does not know how they network, how quickly I can be spotted “not working,” how they’d rush to turn me in. She doesn’t know what it means to live in fear of them showing up at any given minute. But I’m too enraged to communicate any of this.

“Don’t push me, Anna,” I warn, grasping for control. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nobody has ever made me feel this way. I can see she’s worked up, too, her face pink and her eyes intense. I have to leave. As I turn to go, she shouts, “You can make it one night without sex!”

Rage blinds me like a white flash, and my body reacts. Her next words are drowned out as a need to destroy something bears down on me, and I swing at the nearest lamp, sending it flying. It smashes against the wall with a satisfying crash, leaving my ears ringing. I point hard at Anna, who needs to get a bloody clue and stop pushing my buttons.

“You. Don’t. Understand!” I am panting with an overflow of emotion. She appears ashen, staring at me like I’ve kicked a kitten, and it’s all too much. I drop my arm. I’m out of here. “Don’t wait up this time.”

I nearly steamroll an ancient couple when I burst into the hallway. I leave them tottering there as I take the stairs down to the first floor. The hotel has a bar and it’s hopping with a dance area.

Ah, bloody hell. They’re square dancing to country music.

My eyes dart to a bored-looking woman at the end of the packed bar, nursing a margarita. Early thirties. Gray business suit. Black hair waving to her shoulders. No time to waste. I sidle up next to her, waiting to catch the bartender’s attention. I feel the woman watching me, so I glance over. She quickly looks away, a fizz of orange excitement in her aura. My eyes drift to the cleft of cleavage exposed at the top of her blouse. I check out her ring finger. Bare. Possibly divorced? Her nails are manicured and she takes good care of herself.

I give a nonchalant nod. “Hallo.”

She smiles and confidently brushes her hair from her shoulder. “London?”

I nod, sweep my eyes over her. She looks away again, and her body language says she’s not interested, but her aura says otherwise. I hope she’ll not play hard to get.

“I’m Kaidan.”

“Celeste. And I’m way too old for you,” she says, as if that will put an end to my interest. I laugh at her openness and stick out my hand. She eyes it a moment before shaking it, and turns her attention back to her drink.

The bartender finally comes over. I hand him my fake ID and say, “Jack on the rocks.”

I feel her perk next to me as she takes in the exchange; hopefully she believes I’m twenty-one now.

“Celeste. Mind if I sit?” I motion to the stool next to her.

“Free country. Do as you like.” She absently stirs her margarita as I sit. Methinks Celeste is a tad jaded. But I can work with that. I can work with anything.

“Staying at the hotel?” I ask.

“Real estate conference. You?”

“I’m here for the night. Headed to L.A.” A blast of pain in my gut urges me on. Keep her talking.

She takes a long drink. “What’s in L.A.?”

“My band,” I lie.

“Let me guess,” she says sarcastically. “Lead singer.”

I laugh and throw back half my drink, relishing the burn, before setting it down and looking at her again. “Drums.”

“Mmm.” A flash of red trots into her aura. She finishes off the margarita. I order her another.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

“I know.”

She sips her margarita, licking a touch of salt from the rim. I watch her tongue, the beast growling inside me.

“How old are you, Kaidan?”

I’ll never understand why women are so obsessed with age. I level her with my gaze, getting serious. “Old enough to bring you more pleasure than you ever thought imaginable.”

Celeste’s eyes widen a fraction, her aura blazing red before returning to a gray of distrust. “Those are big words,” she says.

I chuckle. “Good thing I can back them up.” I throw back the rest of my drink and set the glass down hard.

“Look, you’re wasting your time here. There’s a girl over there with her eye on you,” Celeste says, nodding across the dance floor. “Maybe you should go talk to her.”

I don’t even glance where she’s pointing, because I’m invested now. I love a challenge.

Without looking at Celeste, I say, “I prefer women to girls,” signaling to the bartender. He pours a new drink and slides it in front of me.

The music gets louder, and if possible twangier, making people cheer. I send my hearing up to our room and find only silence, then a rustle as Anna turns over in the bed. Her breathing is even, slow. Is she asleep already? She’s not upset about my show of temper? Isn’t she at all curious what I’m up to?

Beside me, Celeste lets out a small laugh, shaking her head.

“Do you know how long it’s been for me?”

The margaritas are catching up with her.

“No idea, but I’d be happy to remedy that for you.”

She shakes her head like I’m full of shite and asks, “Why?”

“Because you’re sexy.”

She narrows her eyes. “Like I said, you’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think I am, actually.”

We nurse our drinks in silence. After a few minutes of this, she sighs. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

“No, Celeste. I’m not.” I turn to her.

She thrums the bar top, staring at her hand. “I don’t have condoms.”

My insides jump, but my face stays passive and confident. “I do.”

Her face turns up to me and we stare. The beast claws at the ground in anticipation.

“Fine.” Celeste tries to look bored, unaffected, but her aura is a dazzling display of the opposite. “We can go to my room. . . .”

I nearly close my eyes and sigh with relief. That was the longest forty minutes of my life. I praise the forwardness of older women who know exactly what they want. I throw money on the bar and lean forward, my face inches from hers.

“Brilliant, Celeste. You’re an angel.”

The word angel catches on my tongue. The relief I’d been feeling suddenly wavers and I curse Anna as guilt shoves its way back into my consciousness. For a fleeting moment I imagine telling this woman I’ve changed my mind. I imagine what it would be like to ignore the throb of pain and go back up to my room to be near Anna.

It’s a completely pointless and idiotic thing for me to ponder. There is absolutely no reason not to do this. I place my hand on the small of Celeste’s back and lead her out of the bar. I want what I want, and I’m going to get it.