Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) Page 9

  He almost grinned at the fierceness of her scowl. No one ever dared to order him around, and he kind of liked the fact that she treated him like there was a chance he was a decent human being instead of a relentless killing machine. She made him feel almost normal, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt like that before.

  “I won’t burn them, but it’s because I don’t need to,” he clarified. He appreciated her, but at the same time, she needed to understand that self-preservation came first, every time. If he had needed to infuse them with his psychic energy to track Beckett, he would have destroyed them. It was how it was. “I can always find her now.” He kept part of his attention on Beckett as she got into a car that was soon moving quickly out of the area. Her energy was calm, and for the moment, she was safe. He let her go, turning instead to study Anya. “Why did you make a deal? I could have read her mind, or forced her to talk to us.”

  Anya paused, and frowned at him. “First of all, you can’t read my mind. Maybe you can’t read hers. Clearly, there are some people in this world who have the capability of blocking you.”

  “Not if I don’t care if I hurt them. I could get in your head if I didn’t care about the damage I would cause.”

  Her eyes widened. “You have this high and mighty moral code when it comes to killing, but not when it comes to frying people’s brains?”

  He narrowed his eyes, watching her. “I wasn’t planning to fry your brain, but yes, death is different. Sometimes I need information. If the stakes are high enough, I’ll do whatever is necessary to get it.”

  “Well, I don’t believe in hurting others. There’s enough pain in this world.” She rolled the clothes up into a ball. “We need to go to Connecticut after midnight tonight. Can you get us there that fast?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her attitude grated at him, treating him like he was some kind of deviant for being willing to push boundaries to get the job done. “You’d never hurt anyone to help yourself?”

  “No—”

  “What if it would have saved your mother?”

  She snapped a sharp glare at him. “Don’t be an ass. That’s not fair.”

  “No? Maybe that’s my standard. Did that occur to you? That maybe I inflict pain on others only when it really matters. And where do you draw the line on what matters, Anya? Are your hands so clean?” He didn’t know why he cared. He never cared what anyone thought. Ever. Damn. Why was he even getting into it with her? “Never mind. Let’s go.”

  She didn’t move, though, studying him. “I don’t understand you,” she said softly.

  “Good. An assassin can’t be predictable. You coming, or what?” He was feeling pissed off right now, and he didn’t know why.

  No, he knew why. Listening to the exchange between the women had made him think. It had made him remember. It had made him want to have that conversation with the one person in his life who mattered to him, who didn’t even know he existed. He never thought about having an actual relationship with his brother, about what he had given up for his life, but listening to Beckett and Anya had made it impossible for him to ignore it, and he didn’t like thinking about it.

  He didn’t like anything that Anya had brought into his life, in fact. He was royally screwed for blowing the contract he’d accepted for her death, even though he’d wired the money back into his client’s account while Anya had been sleeping. He didn’t like at all how much he wanted her physically. And it could serve no useful purpose that she was making him think and feel shit that an assassin couldn’t afford.

  Plus, he had to be a guardian. What the hell?

  Then she smiled at him, a radiant, genuine smile that made his heart thunder to a stop. “Did you hear her?” she asked, her eyes glistening with excitement. “Julia is still alive, and she told us where to go. It’s my first real lead. We have a chance!”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. She was absolutely beautiful when she was happy. He wanted to yank her into his arms, pin her against the wall again, and lose himself until there was nothing left of who he was, and all that remained was her.

  But he wouldn’t. He’d learned that from his father. The more he wanted her, the less he could take.

  Her smile faded. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I want to fuck you.” He knew it was crass, but he wanted to piss her off. He wanted her to hate him, so she would stop smiling at him like that.

  Her smile faded, and she studied him speculatively. Unfortunately, she didn’t look pissed. She looked thoughtful.

  After a moment, she walked over to him. He stiffened as she neared, and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing her. He glowered at her. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned her.

  “Will you please do me a favor?” she asked, so politely that he felt like he should be wearing white gloves and a top hat.

  “Probably not.”

  “Go down on your knees.”

  He stood taller. “What the hell kind of request is that?”

  “I want to be able to look in your eyes, and you’re too tall for me to do that.”

  A part of him was curious. Another part of him was like, no way. He didn’t get down on his knees for anyone. So, he compromised, and simply said. “Sorry. Not in my repertoire.”

  She sighed, and then looked around the restroom. He was actually somewhat fascinated watching her. She clearly had something in mind, and he was damned curious as to what it was. He wasn’t used to dealing with people, or seeing them as living beings who had personalities and souls. They were either his targets, or he used them as a means to an end, whatever end that might be at that time, though every single thing he did was for two purposes: to protect his brother and to avenge his parents’ murders.

  Well…that had been his modus operandi until he’d met Anya, at which point he’d been forced to add protecting her to his list of life purposes. He wasn’t going to lie, however. Anya was absolutely fascinating to him, and he kind of liked the fact that he had no choice but to hang out with her. Spending time with her didn’t violate his two life goals, because he couldn’t accomplish a damned thing if he were dead. So, he didn’t have to cut her out. He had to stay with her for now. She was his mission, so he could indulge his curiosity about her without breaking his rules.

  Her face lit up when she saw a small, plastic trashcan. She grabbed it, upended it in front of him, then stepped up on it, bringing her damn near exactly at eye level to him. He studied her, noticing the gold flecks in her eyes, and the extraordinary length of her lashes. They were dark, unnaturally so, and he suspected that she had put makeup on them to darken them. He wanted to see them without makeup, as they really were.

  “You’re trying to piss me off,” she said.

  He barely heard her, so fascinated by the way her lips moved when she spoke. Her lips were a soft red, no lipstick, just purely natural, and he liked it. He knew how they tasted, and he wanted to taste them again.

  “Slade!”

  “What?” Her hair was tumbling down around her face, a little tangled and disheveled, and sexy as hell. He took a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed it. The strands were smooth, like silk “Would you consider this soft?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Soft. If someone described something as soft, would this qualify?” He frowned. “I’ve never really considered that word before, but your hair makes me think of it.”

  A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. “There are different kinds of soft,” she said. “There’s soft, as in the sensation of the surface as your fingers brush over it, and there’s also soft, as in really cushioned, like it would squish if you pushed on it.”

  “Like your breasts?”

  Her cheeks turned red, and he swore. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. He dropped his hand and glared at her. “What do you want?”

  She smiled again, a half-smile that made his heart turn over. “I want to show you that soft is a good thing. Not just hair, but in every way. Close yo
ur eyes.”

  He shoved his fists deeper into his pockets. “No.”

  “Close them, Slade. Seriously. It’s not like you need to see anything in order to know what’s going on, right? Your mental tentacles are everywhere.”

  He scowled. “You’re trying to mess with me.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Slade. You’re impossible.” She shoved the bundle of clothes into his chest and he instinctively grabbed them. Then, she placed her hands on either side of his face. “If you want to be a better assassin, you have to truly understand people. Close your damn eyes.”

  He stared at her for a long minute. He knew she was trying to manipulate him, but a part of him was absolutely riveted by her. She was so far from what he was accustomed to. He knew that he was in no danger from anything or anyone if he closed his eyes, so finally, he shrugged. “You get five seconds.”

  She grinned, that same grin that made him want to lose himself in her, and he shut his eyes, cutting himself off from her. For a split second, he felt a sense of deep relief to be freed from her influence, and then he felt the warmth of her breath against his mouth.

  He went utterly still, frozen in place, as she pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was like a butterfly had brushed against his face, it was so delicate. Then, she did the same to the other corner of his mouth, her lips a whisper against his skin. Hell. He’d never felt anything like that before in his life.

  He waited, taut with anticipation, for the next one.

  No kiss came, but her fingers stroked along his jaw, her touch so light it was like a feather along his skin…except it wasn’t a feather. It was Anya, her skin warm and sensual against his. He felt his whiskers rough beneath her touch, and the contrast of his whiskers against her skin was entrancing.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” The question was a whisper every bit as soft as her touch on his jaw.

  He didn’t answer, unwilling to break the spell she was weaving.

  He felt her smile, and then she kissed him again, this time, a real kiss, a kiss of lips barely parted, a kiss of tenderness and intimacy, a kiss of slow, sensual teasing, a barely-there kiss that promised a night of sin and seduction…and intimacy.

  Blood raced to his cock, and lust boiled through him—

  No. She whispered the command in his mind. Don’t. Let me.

  He went still, forcing himself to stay relaxed as she kissed her way along his lower lip, mixing in a light nibble, and the brush of her tongue. Her touch was so light, he could barely feel it, but his blood was thundering through him, searing every cell in his body.

  She slid her lips along his jaw, and then down the side of his neck, kisses so light he would have missed them if he wasn’t so intently focused on her. She brushed a kiss over his collarbone, and his entire body trembled in response.

  Her hands settled lightly on his shoulders, as if to settle him, while she pressed a kiss to the center of his neck, into the hollow of his throat.

  Jesus, Anya.

  She pulled back then, and he opened his eyes. He knew that his need for her was stark on his face, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She made him transparent, and he hated that, but at the same time, there was something hot as hell about it.

  She smiled, a triumphant, satisfied grin that was so arrogant that he wanted her even more. “That, my dear assassin, is why fucking someone is not always the way to go. Sometimes soft, slow kisses are so much better. Get it?”

  “I got it.” Yeah, he got it. “Do it again.”

  She laughed then, a light-hearted, engaging laugh that made him smile. “Maybe someday, if you’re a good boy, but right now, we need to go to Connecticut. I assume we’re going the same way as before?”

  He wasn’t sure that having her wrapped around him was the best idea right now. “We have time. We’ll drive.”

  “Drive? You have a car?”

  He raised his brows. “Of course I have a car. I have fifty-seven of them.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why on earth do you need fifty-seven cars?”

  “Because I never know where I’ll be when I need one. Come on.” He took her elbow and turned her toward the door. Hell. He was going to have to walk her past all those gyrating people again? When he was this turned on? Shit. He’d always thought he had impenetrable discipline, but he was no longer so sure, at least when it came to Anya.

  She didn’t lose a beat in her questioning. “What does that mean? You have them stashed in assorted places around the globe?”

  “Yep.” He opened the bathroom door, and the scent of sex and lust hit him. His cock got even harder, and he swore as he urged her out into the room.

  “Exactly how rich are you, Slade?”

  “Richer than sin.” He made it halfway past the dance floor, and he thought he was safe, when someone bumped into Anya, knocking her against him. His arm brushed against her breast, and heat poured into him.

  She stared up at him, and time seemed to freeze for an instant. Then, suddenly, he wanted to be the one in control, the one who knew how it was really supposed to be. He tunneled his hand through her hair, a slow, sensual caress a thousand times more intimate than what she’d done to him in the bathroom. “It doesn’t always have to be about fucking,” he murmured. “And it doesn’t always have to be like a butterfly’s kiss. Sometimes, it can be pure sensuality.”

  Her eyes widened, and her hands went to his forearms. “We need to go, Slade.”

  “Yes, we do, but not for another minute or two.” He shoved the bundle of clothes back into her arms, slid his other hand into her hair, and then kissed her.

  Not just a kiss.

  It was the kind of kiss that existed only in his fantasies…until now.

  Chapter 9

  Anya knew the moment Slade kissed her that it was going to be different. At his safe house, the kiss had been bruising and intense, exploding through her so fiercely that she thought she would shatter.

  This time, as he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, she knew it was going to be a thousand times more dangerous.

  And it was.

  His kiss was pure sensuality. His tongue slid across her lower lip in a decadent invitation that made her belly tighten with longing that seemed to come from deep within her, from places in her soul she didn’t even know existed.

  He wasn’t fucking her this time. He was ridiculing her attempt to show him what else there was besides fucking. Her kiss seemed like a five-year-old’s innocent exploration compared to the pure sin he was pouring into her.

  She wanted to lose herself to him, to surrender completely to his strength and his seduction, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to stay focused, strong, and grounded, and there was no way that was going to happen if she kept kissing him. Somewhat desperately, she shoved against his chest. “Don’t. We need to go—”

  “We have time.” He pulled her more tightly against him, his hands roaming her body as he moved to the music, dragging her into its seductive rhythm with relentless, unending kisses, and the slow, sensual undulation of his hips against hers. His powerful thigh slid between hers, pressing up against the junction of her thighs as he slid closer against her, moving like a wild predator closing in on his prey.

  God, it felt good to be touched like that. To be held like she mattered. To be kissed like there was nothing in the world that existed besides this moment. She knew she didn’t have time to enjoy his kiss, and she knew she didn’t have the luxury of trusting him, but for one minute, one tiny minute, she wanted to forget about her life and who she was. For one minute, she wanted to simply breathe in the sensation of his strong body against hers, to feel his muscles flexing beneath her fingers, to taste his mouth, and to feel the heat from his body pouring into hers, easing the tension that had become such a part of her that she’d forgotten what it felt like not to be afraid.

  You’re dangerous. His voice was a private seduction drifting through her mind. You make me want to forget about everything tha
t matters to me.

  God. He felt the same way? His confession stripped away the last bit of her resistance, and she lost the battle to fight. All she wanted was him. Still cradling Beckett’s abandoned clothes in one arm, Anya slid her other hand around Slade’s neck and let herself melt against him. Her nipples ached where they pressed against his chest. Her entire being burned for his kisses and craved his touch, an aching need even more powerful than what he’d unfurled inside her at his safe house.

  He groaned. You’re projecting. He angled his head and deepened the kiss, teasing her with his tongue and lips, dragging her mercilessly into his sensuality. Fire licked through her, and when his hand slid to her ass, she couldn’t stop the low groan that slipped from her lips.

  He grasped her hair and pulled her head to the side as he kissed her collarbone, then her throat, and then the swell of her breasts—

  Someone bumped them, and she opened her eyes to see a couple grinning at them. The man was tall and dark, almost as muscled as Slade, and the woman had straight brown hair and glasses, like a scholarly nerd who was being a bad girl by playing at the club. They both grinned at them, and the woman held out her hand to Anya in silent invitation.

  “Oh…” Anya’s fingers dug into Slade’s shoulders. “No, thank you…”

  “I don’t share,” Slade locked his arm tighter around Anya and spun her away. His eyes were dark and moody as he studied her. “You are too much of a temptation,” he observed. “Everyone here wants to get you naked, both the men and the women. I thought I was special.” There was an edge to his voice as his arm tightened around her.

  Her belly tightened at the possessiveness in his eyes. “You are special,” she said, her voice more breathless than she had intended. “You’re the only one who gets to kiss me, right?”

  He eyed her. “There is that.” He locked his arm around her more tightly. “What the hell is it about you that is so irresistible? Tell me.”

  She shook her head, almost unnerved by the intensity of his stare. “Nothing. I’m just me.” She became aware of others watching them, of the raw lust on the faces of strangers. Discomfort rattled through her, and she pushed at his chest, suddenly wanting space. She wasn’t accustomed to being with men, certainly not one who was so intense, so sensual, and so overwhelming. Her life was with the three women who mattered to her, a foursome who relied on each other for survival, a foursome that had been shattered ruthlessly, leaving her vulnerable and scattered. “Let’s just go.”