Sweet Temptation (7 page)

No doubt, because she's a bloody nun. “How very decent of you.”

She grunts with frustration and throws a pillow at me. It's
probably the angriest she's ever been in her life. I raise an eyebrow to see how much madder I can make her. “Pillow fight?”

She wants to scream. I can see it in her rigid, huffing demeanor, but she takes a cleansing breath and deflates a notch.

Nice trick. If only I could do that. I've got some parts that could use deflating.

“Get off my bed,” she orders. “Please. I'm ready to go to sleep.”

That's a load of bollocks. She's not tired. She's as filled with passion as I am, but she's too bloody good to embrace it. Her self-control burns me up. I want her to throw a wobbly and break things. Then pounce on me.

But seriously. We should be naked.

I get off the bed and wave an arm toward it. She climbs deep into the covers and puts her back to me. I try to bring her back to life by reminding her that I saved her from the plonker who drugged her at the party and almost stole her first kiss. But she doesn't take the bait. Doesn't leap from the bed and jump my bones. Doesn't even turn to face me.

Then I remember—
I
had her first kiss—that's right,
me
, and I want to beat my chest like an ape.

“So that's it, then?” I say. My lust is still working at full-throttle-rocket mode, but there will be no countdown to launch. I'm torn between disbelief and a rising ache deep in my abdomen. It hurts like hell. It takes everything in my power not to be the caveman my father wants me to be and ravage this girl senseless. “I always wondered what it would feel like.”

“What
what
would feel like?” She finally looks at me.

“Rejection.” It would be humorous if it weren't for the pain element. I've never felt this before.

“What are you saying? That
no
girl has ever told you no?”

She needn't sound so shocked.

“Not one,” I say. I won't tell her I seek out those who show interest to begin with.

“And what about you? Haven't you ever stopped or said no to a girl?”

Pfft!
“Why would I do that?”

“Lots of reasons,” she mumbles. “Never mind, just go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

She rolls back over, making all sorts of ruckus as she settles. I've never had much cause to hate my lustful heritage. I've always been able to sate the beast. But at this moment all I want is this mad need for her body to disappear. It's more than just pain now. It feels as if a black cloud is consuming me, fogging my mind and vision. I attempt to blink it away.

I think about Anna's last question, and suddenly my childhood mate Ginger's face fills my mind. That awkward, terrible night when she hit on me in front of Blake comes rushing back. “I suppose I did refuse one, but she doesn't count.” I'm babbling now, but talking seems to help. Will this feeling pass?

“Why not?” she asks.

“Because she was Neph.” My stomach tightens when I think of Ginger. She was my friend once. My closest friend.

Anna says nothing, and I'm left standing there with a rather large problem. The feeling is not passing. I desperately need to have sex or I may have to curl into the fetal position and howl. I adjust myself while she's not looking. How do regular blokes
deal with this torture when they're turned down all the time?

“This must be the part where I take a cold shower?”

Can't she sense my need? Doesn't she care at all that it feels as if I've been racked by a giant?

Apparently not. “Good idea” is all she says.

Cold. Hearted.

I trudge stiffly to the bathroom and climb into the shower, but it does nothing for me. I cannot believe this is happening. I shouldn't have lost control while we kissed. I should have taken my bloody time and gotten her so hot she was begging for more. How the hell did the little nun get the upper hand over me? I am reduced to showering with myself, which is an inadequate substitute for what I need. But then I remember the girl at the hotel desk who checked me in. Midtwenties. Bored out of her gourd. Completely hot for me.

Brilliant.

I dry myself and walk into our room stark naked, but she doesn't even peek. The girl is infuriating. I quickly dress, find a room key, and open the door.

Anna perks up from her bed. “Where are you going?”

Look who suddenly cares. I frown at her, hoping she feels a bit of the pain and frustration I'm experiencing.

“I have to work,” I say.

“Have to? Or want to?”

Anger and indignation rip through me. This girl has no clue, and she has the nerve to try to make me feel bad? She's never feared for her life. She's never given in to her dark side and then experienced the physical impossibility of ignoring it ever again. I cannot stand here and listen to her.

“Why should that matter, Anna? I'm going now.”

“Where will you go?” she all but shouts. She sounds a bit desperate, which gives me some amount of satisfaction.

I'm glad to tell her, and I hope it makes her share a bit of my agony. “I'll go visit the girl at the front desk, just as she suggested. So unless you've changed your mind . . . ?” I give her one last chance, and I watch as envy and sadness fight for space in her aura. But she only shakes her head.

“Didn't think so,” I mutter. Then I flick off the light and shut the door, checking to be sure it locks behind me.

Her words ring in my ears, but I shake my head to rid myself of them. I enjoy my work most of the time. And tonight I definitely will.

I walk with purpose down the pavement to the front office, where I can see the girl through the glass window. She's on her mobile. When she catches sight of me her eyes go wide and she quickly hangs up, smoothing her curls down. She greets me with a big smile and a heavy Southern accent.

“Hi there . . . Mr. Rowe, right? Everything okay?”

“Yes. Just Kaidan, please.” I swish damp hair from my eyes. I'm not really in the mood for a detailed seduction. I'd prefer to make this quick, so I delve into my bag of douchery. “I'm trying to give my sister some time to herself in the room. Our grandmother just passed, and she's taking it hard.”

The girl puts a hand against her chest, and her aura fills with sadness. “Oh, bless her heart. And yours. I'm sorry about your grandma.”

I nod, looking sad, which isn't hard since I'm feeling rather strange in general. I lean against the counter and wonder if
Anna's okay in the room. I do a quick auditory scan, but it's quiet in there. I don't see any demon whisperers about, doing their rounds for the Dukes.

“Hope I'm not bothering you . . .” I look at her name tag. “Vanessa.”

“Not at all!” she says brightly. “You can call me Nessa. It gets boring here, so I'm glad to have company. I work for my uncle. This place is kind of . . .” She sticks out her tongue and makes a face.

“A job is a job, right?” I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. I cringe against a bout of needling pain. “I'm glad to have some company right now, too. It's been a rough week.”

We lock eyes and I hold her stare until her aura lights up, bright red, then I brazenly let my eyes drop to her lips, down to her chest, back up to her eyes. She is besotted, holding her breath, lust thumping through her. I let out a dry chuckle and run a hand through my hair. “What's the most fun you've ever had here at work, Nessa?”

“Um . . .” She laughs nervously. “I don't know.”

“Because I could really use some fun right now if you're up for it.”

“I . . .” More nervous laughing. “I mean, what kind of . . .”

I've taken a huge gamble that I might overwhelm or frighten her, but so far she hasn't run screaming. She's nervous and excited, probably wondering if I mean what she thinks I mean. She licks her dry lips and glances over her shoulder at the small office with the door ajar.

“That your uncle's office?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She grins.

I slowly walk around the front desk, our eyes locked, and her aura jumps with orange and red when I reach her.

She licks her lips again. “Just so we're on the same page, Mr., I mean,
Kaidan
, what kind of fun are we, um . . .” I step closer as she babbles. “Talking about?”

“The kind that will take my mind off everything, and make you very happy,” I say in a low voice. I hold back the beast with all my energy and wait for her to give me the go.

“Oh,” she breathes. She tentatively touches my forearm, and lets her fingers travel down to my hand, where we join fingers.

My relief is palpable.

“Thank you,” I whisper. I bring my mouth down to hers, this lovely girl whose face I won't remember after a week's time. I'm hoping for that epic passion to hit me like it did in the hotel room, but it doesn't. We're moving toward the office door, groping and snogging as we go.

I kick the door closed behind us with my foot.

She moans as I lift her onto the desk. “I can't believe this is happening.”

I silence her with my mouth, and focus. Though her hair is curly, not straight, and she doesn't smell of pears, I let my need take over and I give her the best night of work she's ever had.

An awful thought occurs as I walk back to the room.

Had Anna listened to my office romp?

Wait a bloody minute—who cares if she did? Perhaps it would do her some good. Stubborn girl. But still . . . I feel oddly
off
. I can't put my finger on it, but the sex with Nessa
didn't offer me the satisfaction it should have. In fact, it left me feeling empty, like a husk, needing something more.

What I need now is a good night of sleep to shake off the rejection from Anna. She's got my brain muddled is all. I knew she'd be a hard sell, but this is worse than I'd imagined. I hadn't expected to sleep with her the first night, but I definitely hadn't anticipated a firm stop sign when I'd barely reached second base. I'm accustomed to getting what I want.

I shake my head as I let myself in the room. Anna is quiet and still, but her breathing is too shallow. She's still awake. I go to the bathroom to wash up and brush my teeth.

Then I strip naked and climb into bed. I prop a hand behind my head and wonder what the little nun is thinking about. I should go to sleep, but I can't help but get under her skin one last time, the way she's gotten under mine with her angel voodoo.

“Anna?” I'm not surprised when she doesn't answer. “Did you at least enjoy your first kiss?”

She's quiet a second more. “Just go to sleep, Kaidan.”

It's not a “no,” which makes me smile in the dark. I learned a valuable lesson tonight about how to win over Anna. Tomorrow I'll be on my A-game. I let out a deep breath and fall straight to sleep, semi-satisfied.

“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

W
inning 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.