Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (5 page)

Despite reeling from the drastic change in conversation, Dahlia latched onto one thought: sleeper cars had beds … . “Works for me,” Dahlia said. She headed for the door, and she couldn’t help but notice how Jericho curled in on himself tighter to avoid being close to her. She rolled her eyes as she passed him. Out in the car, she turned. “You lead the way, big man. I’ll follow.”

He gave her a suspicious look and then left the closet and moved with purpose toward their destination. He apparently really did know where the vacant cars were. He stopped abruptly in front of a door, glanced both directions, and then pulled some lock-picking tools from a nifty kit in his back pocket.

Dahlia sighed, stepped around him, and broke the lock with a twist. She opened the door with a flourish and gestured him inside.

He glowered at her. “That’s rather conspicuous, wouldn’t you say?” he said, pointing at the bent doorknob.

“Whereas a jolly blond giant fiddling around with tools would absolutely escape the notice of the ticket-taker,” she said, gesturing to the approaching employee through the windows of the connecting car.

“Right,” he said as he quickly walked into the room.

Dahlia followed and shut the door behind her. Her gaze flickered over the room’s interior. It was decorated in the same neutral grey as the seats in the other cars, but instead of chairs, two shelf-like beds were connected to opposite walls.

She gave Jericho’s back the snake eye. Of course he’d taken them to a room with two beds. Couldn’t make her job easier by taking them to a room with one cozy bed. He was impossible.

Jericho settled on the far bed where he could watch the door, so Dahlia sat on the remaining bed. It was time to play her trump card.

“You know there are side effects to Impulse-pairing, right?” she asked.

He stared at her and said nothing.

His glare was both uncomfortable and caused a flare of heat to travel up her spine. “What I mean is,” she continued, “we’re going to be compelled to be together physically.” She laughed as though this were embarrassing. “And if we don’t comply, our bodies will go through intense cycles of pain.”

Jericho continued to stare.

“The most time ever recorded for abstinence is three da — ”

Jericho erupted from his seat. “You think I don’t know that?” he bellowed. “I was Subject One, you crazy woman. You have that information because you studied me! And my mate!”

Whoa
. Damage control. “Well, technically, I have that information because of what we observed in Eli and Abilene.” She tried a small smile. “I never observed you. That was before my time.”

He scoffed. That distinction was apparently pointless.

“Look, it’s inconvenient, I know. But, why not make the best of it if we’re going to be forced into it eventually?” she said, infusing her voice with sultry heat. His eyes narrowed as though he didn’t follow her meaning. “I could … help you if you, you know, help me?” she finished.

He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “I will not be touching you.”

Before she could stop herself, Dahlia cringed.
Ouch
. His casual rejection of her …
hurt
. She prepared to shrug and play it off, but his words had struck at an insecurity she didn’t know she still had. “Fine! Bury your head in the sand,” she snapped. “We’ll just have to take care of ourselves. That’s just fine by me.”

Jericho blushed to the tips of his gorgeous, muscled body, but said nothing. Dahlia shot to her feet and stomped toward the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her.

Her reflection in the small mirror over the sink stunned her. She looked …
wounded
.

“Yikes, girl, get that armor back into place,” she whispered to herself. Now was not the time to all of a sudden start caring what men thought about her again. She’d grown beyond that ages ago. Sometime around the summer her first boyfriend had taken her virginity in a five-minute session in the back of his car and then callously tossed her aside. Or maybe the seventh time a man had used her for her body and left without a word.

She put the lid to the toilet down and sank to its surface. She rested her face in her hands and tried to regulate her breathing. Her eyes stung as though tears were pricking the back of her eyelids. But that couldn’t possibly be accurate. She was just suffering from a flood of hormones. Her damn body wanted that man in the next room. He’d rejected that, and now her body was traitorously lettings its feelings show.

It was just biology.

Minutes passed as she tried to convince herself Jericho was just a job she needed to complete. When she finally got herself back under wraps, she raised her head only to discover that sunlight was no longer shining through the tiny window in the corner.

Dahlia groaned. She’d been in here for a long time. Possibly an hour.
After
erupting at Jericho that they were going to “take care of themselves.”

Well, serves him right.
I hope he’s imagining me having a marathon of multiple orgasms!

She splashed some water on her face, took a steeling breath, and opened the bathroom door. The lights in the room were off, but she could make out Jericho’s dim form where he lay on his side on the bed. His back was to her. His broad, beautiful back. Dahlia’s mouth went dry, and flares of small pain from the Impulse flared in the pit of her stomach. She bit back a groan on the off chance that he was faking sleep. No need for him to know she was already desperate for him.

She crossed the room and flopped on her bed and crossed her forearms over her eyes.
Go to sleep, go to sleep,
she coached herself. The sooner she fell asleep, the sooner it would be tomorrow, and the closer she would be to her goal.

After a few minutes, she cursed softly. Sleep was not going to happen.
Well, may as well plan for California.
She turned on her side and stared at Jericho’s back while she thought out her next steps.

Emily’s pure laughter rang through the room, and just like it did every time his woman laughed, Jericho’s heart skipped a beat.

Her head fell back, exposing her long, graceful neck, and Jericho’s mouth went dry. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

She heard him, and her laughter faded away. She met his eyes with a warm smile, and she got up from her seat to walk slowly around the dinner table. When she reached his chair, she settled herself into his lap and placed her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered just before placing her lips over his.

Jericho’s eyelids closed, and he gathered Emily closer to his chest as he deepened the kiss. He loved this woman so much. She was everything he’d ever hoped he would have and so much more than he deserved.

He pulled back from the kiss to tell her this, but she was no longer Emily.

Dahlia sat in his lap. Her face was so close to his that he could see the flecks of green in her dark brown eyes. Her breath fanned over his face, smelling of cinnamon.

“Hmmmm,” she hummed from between closed lips. Her tongue slipped out to brush along her bottom lip, and he zeroed in on it like a hawk. “You taste so good,” she murmured in her luscious, husky voice. “Kiss me again.”

And, God help him, he did. His mouth crashed down on hers before he could stop himself, and he discovered that not only did she smell of cinnamon, she tasted of it, too. He moaned into her mouth as she sucked on his tongue, and something inside of him cracked.

He jerked Dahlia closer. She immediately shifted her legs so that she was straddling him, placing the hot epicenter of her body over the fly of his jeans. He jumped beneath her, and she ended the kiss to stare hotly into his eyes.

“I know exactly what you need, Jericho,” she said, and then she rolled her hips, pressing herself against him. His body bucked into her on instinct; his hands fell to those incredible hips in an attempt to hold her still.

Something was wrong here. He shouldn’t be doing this, he just couldn’t remember the reason why. And what she was doing felt so good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt good. He needed this; he needed her.

And so, he hesitantly thrust against her. She dropped her head to his shoulder, placed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, and whispered, “Just like that.”

So he did it again. And again.

His body began to shake. Really hard. He frowned.

Jericho’s eyes popped open to stare widely at the pillow his face was buried into. He was panting into the linen, and someone was shaking his shoulder with all their might.

And he was thrusting into the mattress with each one of his hoarse gasps.

“Jericho!” Dahlia said loudly, obviously not for the first time, as she sounded annoyed.

Reality came crashing in, and Jericho scrambled back from Dahlia’s hand, only to hit his head on the wall with a thump. He cursed and shook his head to clear it. Thank God her hand had been on his t-shirt instead of his skin. He didn’t feel like fighting his gag reflex on top of everything else because he’d been reminded of her evil nature again.

But then he remembered what he’d been dreaming about, and he had to fight not to be sick anyway. He glared at Dahlia where she stood beside his bed. Maybe she hadn’t seen what his lower half had been up to while he’d dreamt.

“That was … some dream you must have been having,” she said with a smirk.

Jericho sighed. So much for that pipe dream. “What I dream about is none of your business,” he said. He cast a surreptitious glance at his lap to make sure he wasn’t revealing any evidence that he hadn’t yet fully shaken the dream. No such luck.

“Yeah, well, about that,” she said slowly and in a tone Jericho didn’t appreciate.

He returned his eyes to her and narrowed them in warning.

“If you’re having a dream like
that
,” she pointed delicately to his still-obvious erection, “then you obviously didn’t handle things last night.”

Jericho’s mouth flopped open. Did the woman have no shame? There were so many things he wanted to say to her in response, but what slipped out was, “Do you mind not
pointing
at it, for God’s sake?”

She smiled; Jericho winced. “Of course,” she said lightly, returning her hand to her side. “Do you mind not screwing my mission because you’re a
caco
?”

Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good. “Excuse me?”

Dahlia’s smile had disappeared. “This isn’t a joke, Jericho. The pain from the Impulse is real. You don’t take care of it, and it will overtake you. You’ll become a liability I can’t afford to have, and if you so much as delay me by a second, I’ll drop your ass.”

Jericho unfolded to his full height. “You’ll drop my ass?” he asked. “How about I haul
your
ass back to the facility right now?” He realized his threat was impotent as soon as it left his mouth. He couldn’t take her back until he’d figured out her secret.

He didn’t know what he expected Dahlia to do in response, but stomp over to him and stand toe-to-toe while she stuck her finger in his face was not even close to on the list.

“Do it,
cabrón.
Then I can break out again and make sure no one follows next time.” She suddenly smiled, making Jericho uneasy. “Everything you can do, baby, I can do better, so try it. See what happens.”

He had nothing to say to that. And, unfortunately, she had a point about the Impulse. And since her mission was currently his mission as well … . “I’ll handle the Impulse,” he said through gritted teeth. “You won’t have to worry about me slowing you down.”

He’d handle it, but there was no law that said he had to handle it
now
. He knew his own body — knew how much he could handle and when to cry uncle.

Yeah, right,
his psyche taunted as Jericho noticed how enticingly Dahlia’s breasts moved with her breathing.

Dahlia caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. Like a teenager caught red-handed, he jerked his eyes away, but not before his libido had him pondering if there was a way to screw her and not have to touch her.

The train began to slow, and Jericho breathed a sigh of relief as he was pulled from that destructive line of thought. He’d be able to get out of this bedroom, with its beds, cramped quarters, and insanely attractive, evil passenger.

“They gave you money, right?” Dahlia asked abruptly.

Jericho frowned. “Uhhhh … ”

“Because if you’re going to be this entertaining for the rest of the trip, I need a book to read,” she tossed over her shoulder as she exited the room without waiting for him.

He followed quickly on her heels, not sure if she was going to try anything stupid. She had just threatened to, after all. Granted, he had threatened her first. “I think we can manage that,” he said to her back as he tried to keep up.

She hopped down from the train onto the platform and kept up her pace as she spotted the gift shop. They had plenty of time until the connecting train, so she had to be hustling because she needed some space from him. He could definitely understand
that
particular need.

When they entered the store, Jericho took up residence against the wall and let Dahlia hit the book section without him. Let her have the illusion of freedom. He could keep just as good an eye on her from here as right next to her.

Nearly an hour later, when their free time had all but vanished and Jericho was fighting his body and the pain that was growing more pronounced with every second he didn’t seek release, Jericho was preparing to go wrangle himself one criminal when she finally emerged with a hefty tome tucked under one arm.

“I’m ready,” she said and walked past him toward the cash register.

Her cinnamon scent wafted over him as she passed, and Jericho bit back a moan. He caught a look at the cover. “Harry Potter?” he asked. Loudly. Everyone in the gift shop turned around and looked at him.

“That a problem?” Dahlia asked in a low voice.