Kiss at Your Own Risk (20 page)

Hmm. That had really not been a helpful thought.

Blaine snorted. “Parents are overrated.”

“No, no, not necessarily.” Trinity couldn’t bear that hardness to his voice. “My dad sacrificed his own life to keep me from murdering my old boyfriend. Right now, he’s sitting there in some Ziploc baggie, happy to die if that means it will save my soul. Some parents are like that.”

Blaine studied her, and a muscle ticked in his cheek. She could see the denial in his eyes.

“My parents ordered me not to kill the Chameleon,” she continued. “They want me to save myself and let my dad die.”

“Then do it.”

“Don’t you understand? The fact he’s willing to die for me is why I have to save him.”

“No.” Blaine’s interruption was harsh. Quick. “Don’t prostitute yourself for anyone, Trinity. They’ll let you down. In the end, the only one you can count on is yourself.”

She felt his belief in his words, and she was saddened for the lessons he’d learned. “My parents would never abandon me, no matter how murderous and horrific I become. They’ll always love me, and they’ll always support me, and I’ll always be there for them.” She swallowed and voiced the truth that terrified her. “If I have to sacrifice my soul to save my dad, I will. Screaming banshee notwithstanding.” The thought was so awful… but it was true. So horribly, egregiously, awfully true.

He was staring at her now, a look of envy on his face. “You’re like this crazy, bright light of innocence,” he said, walking toward her. “I didn’t think there were people like you out there.” He laid his palm on her cheek. His hand was icy cold, which was probably not a good sign for a fire guy. “But they’ll let you down,” he said quietly. “It’s not worth it.”

Okay, that was so sad he believed that. She put her hand over his. “I’m so sorry for what your parents did to you.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m not.” His eyes darkened, and his muscles tensed in his shoulders. “I’m glad I learned my lesson early. Made me stronger.”

“But it still sucks. I mean, I know what it’s like to have a terrible past you can’t get away from.” She realized suddenly that she was gripping the bug too tightly and quickly unclenched her fist. Great. Wrinkled coffin. She couldn’t even bury her victims well! “Especially if you’re dragging that hellish past into the future with you.”

“It doesn’t drag me down. I thrive on it. Crap happens, and you get stronger and then toss the rest in the garbage.”

She frowned. “It’s not that easy to let go—”

“Sure it is.” He nodded at the smashed bug. “You think he’s feeling regret for getting stepped on?”

“Um, no. He’s dead. I don’t think he’s feeling anything.” She pulled out of Blaine’s grasp and walked over to an air vent. She set the coffin gently beside it, tucking it in so it would be protected from the wind. Just in case beloved family and friends came looking for him.

Blaine raised an eyebrow at her cemetery. “Sure he is. You know that souls don’t end when the body dies. We go on, and that bug made its choice.”

Well, now, that was just ridiculous. “You don’t always have a choice—”

“No? If you don’t believe we make choices, then why haven’t you accepted the curse as your future? Handed yourself over to it already?”

She stood up and set her hands on her hips. “No! I’m not going to give up! I—”

“See? You do get it.” He strode across the roof toward her. “No matter what, we always have options. You can be too weak to exercise the choice, or you can fight it.” He nodded at the beetle. “Your bug made his choice, either by inactivity or on purpose. You were the tool for implementing, but heading off to neverland was his own decision.”

Trinity scowled. “I see your point, but getting stepped on is different than deciding not to become a serial killer—”

“Do you know how many times I’ve died?”

She looked up at Blaine. “Is that a trick question?”

“Six hundred and seventy-one times. I died. And then I decided I wasn’t ready, so I came back. I’ve got so much shit in me that Angelica foisted on me, but I’m still me.” He tapped his fingers on her chest, right over her heart. “That banshee you saw in the hologram will never change the core of who you are, no matter how often she comes to visit. You’re making the choice to fight for who you are, and the witch will never take over your soul as long as you fight her.”

Something pulsed inside her, an acknowledgement of the truth of his words. She
was
fighting it. With every fiber of her being. “But it’s not enough—”

“It has been so far, hasn’t it?”

Well, he had a point. Six days left, and she was still who she was. “But I feel the monster inside me. I saw that hologram. And I killed a bug—”

“The beetle carnage was just a bug that got axed by natural selection. Nothing more. Let it go.” He gave her a grim smile. A smile that told of a long, hard journey. “One day at a time, babe. Big pictures will knock you on your ass.”

Let it go.
Maybe he was right. If Blaine had somehow survived intact, then maybe there was hope that she wasn’t the evil murderous ‘ho that was inside her.

After all, a man who knew exactly what she was, who knew exactly what her future could hold, thought she was okay. Even her parents and Reina had always looked at her through death-colored glasses.

But not Blaine. This man who had no reason to believe in anything good thought her soul was pure. He saw her the way she wanted to be. Could he be right? Was there really a chance for her? He made her think there was, and right now, she’d take it. Tears filled her eyes, and she hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered into his neck.

His arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes. Absorbed the sensation of a man holding her. Not for sex. Not for ulterior motive. Just because she needed to be held, and he thought she deserved it.

Blaine Underhill might be too fond of killing, and he might make the evil girl inside her want to party, but right now the only thing he was bringing to life was the woman she wanted to be. He was saving her soul, one hug at a time. Her heart swelled with appreciation, a warm, wonderful feeling that she’d never allowed before—

Oh, no.

She was starting to like him.

Getting emotionally involved with the witch’s Chosen was asinine. For hell’s sake, he had to kill her, right? Right?

But the way Trinity’s body was pressed against him. The story she told.

No one returned for those left behind.

But she had come back for him.

No one sold their soul for family.

But she was willing to do it.

And so were her parents.

Trinity Harpswell had shown him something he didn’t believe existed. Loyalty. Trust. Self-sacrifice. She and her parents could count on each other. And as torture was his best friend, he’d never believed it existed.

For the first time since he’d watched his mom turn her back as the witch dragged him away, Trinity Harpswell gave him hope.

“This is getting too risky.” She pulled back suddenly, and her eyes were wide. “I really can’t afford to like you. You have to stop being nice, right now.”

“I’m not nice.” Maybe it was the fear that had suddenly returned to her eyes. Maybe it was the image of her dad throwing himself into Augustus’s way to save his own daughter. Maybe it was simply the warmth of her tone, the love in her eyes when she’d spoken of her parents.

Didn’t know what the hell it was.

Didn’t care.

Fact was, he was done fighting it.

She stiffened at whatever expression she read on his face. “Oh, no, don’t you dare—”

He kissed her.

He kissed her hard, he kissed her deep, and he gave her no chance to breathe, or think, or to realize that this idea was as bad as trusting Mari with his best friend’s life. And unlike previous tongue tango moments with Trinity, this time he had every intention of seeing it through to the very, very end.

Yeah, it could lead only to hell.

And he didn’t care.

Not at the moment.

Right now, all that mattered was the way her body fit against his. The way she kissed him back. The way her hands twisted in his hair.

He teased at her mouth, and she parted for him. Yeah, baby, that’s what he was wanting. He brought out his best weapon, and showed her exactly how talented he was in waltzing to tongue music. He knew how to seduce, and this black widow was going to have no chance to resist him.

Why?

Because he’d never been intimate with a woman without having to protect himself from getting impaled upon an acid-drenched ice pick or something equally fun. Yeah, it had never really bothered him, never thought about wanting it any other way, but with Trinity… it had all changed after she’d shared her inner truths.

With Trinity, he knew with absolute certainty that he would not have to watch his back. And he wanted to know what it was like. Right here. Right now. There might never be another moment when he knew he could trust a woman not to hurt him. It had to be now. And it had to be with this woman who had touched his heart in a way no one ever had.

“Blaine.” Her voice was a throaty whisper and she gripped his shoulders. But her touch was gentle, and her hands slid down his biceps.

“Yeah, touch me like that.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her against him, alternating with light kisses around the corner of her mouth, down her jaw, across her nose, then back to her mouth for heavy-duty penetration, exactly how he’d been trained.

Her body was secure against his, and he was so down with the feel of her against him. She was pliable and soft, her breasts against his chest. She wasn’t trying to position herself to attack, wasn’t keeping herself distant so she could decide when to hurt him. She was leaning into him, kissing him back every bit as passionately as he was kissing her.

He caught her lower lip and nibbled on it as he yanked her shirt out of her jeans. He splayed his hands over her lower back, over the heat of her skin, and swore. “You feel so good.”

“You have to stop,” she whispered into his ear, her breath tickling his skin. “I can’t risk this.”

He palmed the back of her head and kissed the curve of her shoulder. “No risk,” he whispered. “I’m really tough to kill. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I’m not as offended by you as I used to be. That’s not good.”

He laughed and framed her face. Her blue eyes were worried, but her cheeks were flushed with desire. “Want me to be offensive, or do you want me to stop?” He splayed his palms over her butt and pressed her up against his erection. You know, in case she wasn’t sure what he wanted.

She let out a small groan and tipped her head back.

He took that as an invite and began to work his way down the front of her throat. To the swell of her breasts. He pulled her collar down, nuzzled her bra out of the way, and swept his tongue over her nipple. “I like the low neckline.”

“It was a turtleneck before you stretched it out of shape.”

He laughed and bit gently down on her nipple. How good did she taste? Maybe it was that there was no tingle from black magic. It was just skin. It was just woman. And below the surface was a heart that beat for love in a way he’d never believed in.

Trinity clung to him. “Make me hate you,” she whispered.

Something tightened low in his gut.
She wanted him.
With a guttural growl, he yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Did the same with his, and then pulled her against him. Sweet demon poison, was this what it always felt like with a real woman? Skin to skin, from shoulder to belly, it was like nothing he’d ever felt. “You make me want to cross-stitch a dozen rainbows, and even that wouldn’t do justice to how it feels to touch you.”

She made a small noise of protest. “No, no.” She palmed his chest, her fingers digging into his skin. “On what planet do you think that’s going to offend me? Rainbows? That was so romantic.”

Shit. Had he really said the rainbow thing? “I want to rip your pants off and mount you.”

She went for his belt. “Hot manly talk so not turning me off. Try again.”

He helped her with his pants, then ditched hers. “I’d rather be watching baseball than getting naked with you, but there’s no game on right now.” He used one foot to spread his clothes over the deck, and then eased her to the fabric. It wasn’t the silk sheets she deserved, but it was the best he could do.

“Baseball not good,” she gasped as he lowered himself on top of her. “Makes me think of men being so turned on they think of baseball to give them more lasting power.”

He braced his palms on either side of her shoulders and kissed her, moving his body so his chest brushed the tips of her nipples. “Baseball wouldn’t cut it for me right now.” He couldn’t keep his hips from moving against hers. Couldn’t stop his knee from wedging between hers.

“Again, total turn-on,” she gasped as she parted her legs. “A girl always wants to know she’s so hot the guy can’t hold himself back.”

He realized suddenly he was pressing against her entrance. He instantly pulled back. What was he doing? That wasn’t how he’d been taught. Had to pleasure her first. Get her hot. Foreplay. His muscles began to quiver in his back, and he tensed for the searing pain. For the punishment for nearly breaking the rules.

None came, and instead, Trinity caught his mouth and kissed him deeply. Wrapped her legs around his hips and began to pull him in.

Sweat began to trickle down his back and he yanked himself back. He knew what he was supposed to do. He ripped his mouth off hers, and began to kiss his way down her body.

“What?” Trinity grabbed his hair. “Where are you going?”

“Foreplay.” He kissed the small tuft of hair at her cleft, stroked his palm across the bare skin. “Your skin is so soft.” He palmed her, loving the bareness of her body. He slid down another two inches and kissed her again.

Trinity’s belly clenched. “Good Lord. Foreplay and intimate compliments? Can’t you take me against the wall or something? Ignore my needs? I can’t even express how important it is that I not be thinking fondly of you right now.”

He went rigid at the thought of taking her. Of ditching his constraints and making love to her the way he wanted, the way his passions were screaming at him to do. But then he shuddered, almost feeling the pain of the punishment for taking her too soon. “No.” He kissed her again, began the swirling pattern so ingrained into his mind.

Trinity moaned and her knees clamped down on either side of his head. “You had to be good at that, didn’t you? Do you have any idea how many points that gets you—”

He bit lightly and her body jerked. She was so responsive. So utterly without guile or pretense. No agenda. What would it be like to be inside her? “I want to make love to you.”

“Then do it.” She grabbed for his shoulders, tried to tug him up. “You’ve got to stop the great lover thing. It’s not helping matters.”

“No. I have to finish you.” He moved back downward.

“No, you don’t! I can’t handle—”

He licked her and nearly lost it when he tasted her sweetness. Like the honeysuckle in the Garden of Delicacy that he’d tried that one time at Nigel’s urging. It had been pure ecstasy, and worth the hell he’d caught when the witch had discovered his transgression. And that’s what Trinity tasted like.

Her legs began to tremble, and her stomach muscles contracted. “For God’s sake, Blaine, if you have any sense of self-preservation or any mercy in your body at all, you will piss me off right now.”

He clamped down with his mouth and began to suck. Couldn’t stop himself. This was no longer about doing things because he was supposed to do it. He was doing it because he wanted to. Because he needed to. Because he wouldn’t survive if he didn’t taste her. He had to feel her lose control, succumb to him—

Her whole body lurched suddenly, and then she stiffened, millions of microscopic convulsions shaking her. He gripped her thighs as she shook beneath him, as she surrendered herself to it. He stared at the look of utter rapture and disbelief on her face, and something inside him came alive. Something that made him feel like a man in a way he’d never felt before. He wanted to beat his chest. Stand up and shout. Go kick Nigel’s ass.

Make her his.

Trinity’s body eased. “Dear God, that was—”

He moved up her body and shoved her knees apart.

She opened her eyes and braced her hands on his hips, trying to hold him back. “You either have to offend me right now, or get off without making love to me, because I’m a girl, and when girls make love, we get all mushy and start confusing love with sex, and that’s just not a good thing for me.”

Hah. There was no chance he was letting her walk away. But offend her on purpose? He wasn’t trained to do that. It went against everything that made him a man. Shit.
Think, Blaine, think.
“When I finish with you—” He pressed against her, and felt the first inch slide into the warm depths. Sweet Jesus. “We’re going to go on a killing rampage.” Had no clue if that would piss her off. Just being inside her made him want to go out and do the warrior thing. Be a man.

She groaned and parted her legs. “Yes, that’s right,” she moaned. “Remind me that you think killing is fun.”

He slid deeper, and bowed his head at the sensation of her taking him inside her. “You’re so wet.” He’d heard about women being that turned on. Never experienced it. Never been good enough to make the women respond. Not like this.

“No,” she whispered. “Dirty sexy talk is good. I like it.” She was breathing heavily. “I need a reminder right now of why I couldn’t possibly like you. Please, talk about how killing isn’t a big deal to you, or something.”

“It’s not.” Couldn’t take the gradual approach anymore. “Sorry, but—” He thrust home, and then went rigid as he felt her body adjust to him. Buried to the hilt. That word would never make him think of a sword again. He’d think of being so deep inside Trinity’s body that he could feel her smooth folds against his balls.

“No apologies necessary.” Trinity moved her hips.

He groaned as she began to work him, setting the tempo like the other women had always done, never giving him the control. This time was different. “No.” He grabbed her hips and held them still. “This is mine.” He pulled out, and Trinity let out a whimper.

Then he plunged deep inside, and she gasped.

He tensed, waiting for the punishment for putting his own desires first.

“Again,” she demanded. “Now.”

Disbelief rocked over him. No repercussions? Slowly, he pulled out again.

Poised at the threshold.

“Hold me tighter,” she whispered.

His grip responded without instruction, and this time he didn’t hesitate as he drove deeper. Again, and then again. Her hips began to buck, and she fought to get free, but he didn’t release her. Just locked her down and drove repeatedly, taking control, deciding when to let her move, when to be the one to move, when they both would go.

He was completely in control, and she was loving it. He didn’t know which part was hotter, but all he knew was that he’d never felt this good in his life.

He pulled out again, and waited. Hovering at the entrance.

“Don’t wait.” She wrapped her legs around his hips. Tried to pull him in.

Her body was trembling, sweat was beading between her breasts, and he knew she was exhausted. He’d pushed them both to the edge, and no one had made him go before he was ready. Before he thought she was ready. He was setting the pace. Making the decisions. Taking the lead.

“Blaine.” She opened her eyes. “If you make me wait much longer, there’s going to be no problem with me hating you.”

He grinned. “Can’t have that.”

And with that, he thrust deep, and this time, he made it count, and they went over the edge together. Not him at her mercy. Not her at his. Together. A joint effort.

And as his spirit hovered somewhere in the region of mindless, jaw-breaking ecstasy, he had the vague thought that cross-stitching was never going to satisfy him again.

Oh, yeah.