Final Kill (Cain University Book 3)

by Lucy Auburn

  "Oh, I'll make it. Eventually. Just let me... use this wall as a support." Putting my palm up against the wall, I slide in his general direction. "If I put one foot in front of the other, eventually those feet will be over there. Just another step. Then another."

  "Your f-f-feet aren't... moving." He snorts in amusement. "Drunkard."

  "How dare you. I'll have you know that I was drunk last night. This morning I'm just... still a little tipsy. Sue me. Or kill me or whatever." Straightening my back, I force one foot forward, then the other, then push myself off the wall and turn it into an actual walk. "Honestly, look at me. I'm a fucking machine. As soon as I get over there I'm gonna kick your ass, you big loaf."

  Wyatt raises his brows in amusement, sliding out from the training room to look me up and down. He deliberately crosses his arms, which makes his formidable forearms bulge with the very toned muscles he has. And I swear, he straightens his spine just to emphasize his height.

  "Okay, fine." I sigh as I step up towards him, close enough to feel dwarfed by his presence. "You could beat my ass any time of day or night. Even if you were the hungover one and I was perfectly sober. Which is why we should definitely put off this training session."

  "Nah." He shakes his head at me, and holds out his hand. I take it. "You absolutely have to practice when you're not feeling well. That asshole Brutus will come back. And you better believe he won't wait for you to be ready for him. For all we know you'll be hungover when he shows up to do you in. So it's time to train, Ellen, no matter how you feel."

  I can't believe it, but he's right. No matter what, I have to be prepared. The weak thing to do is to take a day off. My mom's memory deserves better than my cowardice.

  Still, as I point out, "You're like four times my size. And your Physical Affinity is strength. Plus I just lost my powers. So go easy on me, okay? Even if I weren't hungover you would have all the advantages."

  Wyatt throws me a grin. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle. Like it's your first time."

  I roll my eyes, hip-checking him as I move into the training room. At least my mood is improving now that I'm in Wyatt's presence. He has a way of lifting my spirits just by being around.

  What I can't figure out is how I feel about him. His strength and sweetness is one thing. The brash way he acts sometimes, and his occasional bouts of jealousy—that's another.

  I've never liked feeling owned. Even less since everything with Jack crashed and burned. I just don't know how to deal with Wyatt's possessiveness and Mason's desire for closeness without tearing everything apart. So hopefully things will somehow shake out right without me.

  In the meantime, I get to wrestle and practice combat moves with a giant, strong, impossibly sweet and handsome man who smells like lemon peels and warm cider. Eve was right when she said last night that I'm one dumb, lucky bitch.

  "Let's st-start with some stretches," Wyatt suggests. "Just f-f-follow my lead."

  Wyatt uses the remote control for the speaker system to start some calming meditation music, and I drink the tallest glass of water my bladder can hold, trying to chase the cotton candy mistakes out of my body. As we take up positions opposite each other on the training room floor, we fall into a companionable silence. There's no need to speak, no reason for either one of us to focus on anything other than the physical.

  I miss my Physical Affinity.

  Swallowing, I try to lose myself in the way my muscles burn with each stretch Wyatt leads me through. The burning and stretching feels good; it's probably helping ease whatever muscle aches I got from falling asleep drunk on Eve's sofa last night instead of the guest bed in the loft. Mirroring Wyatt's moves, I raise my arms all the way above my head and curl up onto my tiptoes, thinking about the things I learned last night about my best friend.

  Other people would condemn her. Or feel too awkward around her to keep being her friend. But I know what it's like to be messy and violent. To do something you regret after it's too late. I have no doubt that Eve lives with her mistake every day, playing it over and over in her mind, wishing she'd made a different choice.

  She goes out into the world and risks her life taking down terrible people with her powers, but not a single one of her successfully killed Marks will bring that little girl back.

  Even though her first kill was far less violent than mine, I have no doubt that she has more nightmares about it than I do. Long before the jury came back with their decision in my case, I knew that what I did was self-defense.

  At least it was up until the moment I started cutting up his body. Hey, we aren't all perfect. Some of us make mistakes. Mine includes cutting his fingers off before I severed his arm at the elbow—what a mess that was.

  I wish it were more polite to ask everyone here at the university what their first kill was.

  "You're th-thinking too... m-much." Wyatt frowns in my direction. "Stop."

  Laughing a little, I shake my head. "You're right. It's just that things got a little intense yesterday, and last night I drank my thoughts away. Next time I'll find a more productive outlet for my tension."

  "I c-can think of-of one." He waggles his brows, a charming smile on his face. "Me."

  "It's occurred to me," I tell him, cursing the remaining vodka simmering in my blood, which has clearly loosened my lips a bit too much. "But I just don't want you to turn it into some kind of competition with the other guys. We have to get along after all. So we should probably stick to practicing."

  "If y-you say so."

  We move on to fighting poses. Wyatt walks me through each of them. When I struggle to mirror the poses he effortlessly falls into, he walks over and guides my elbows down or shows me how to loosen my kneecaps. As he does so, his touch is perfunctory and short, not trying anything—but I still burn for more.

  When he brushes his hand gently against my hip for the fifth time in a row, turning my pelvis with the least amount of physical contact, my eyes flutter closed. And I know that I can't resist the pull I feel towards him anymore.

  Not even if I'm unsure what'll happen next.

  Jumping into the unknown has always been my downfall—and my first instinct. Grabbing Wyatt's wrist, I turn towards him, the burn of our training session making my muscles relaxed and loose, my skin flush, my breathing fast, even as my pulse races for him and him alone.

  "Do you think maybe you could care about me even if I never get my powers back? Even if we don't manage to kill our Marks and graduate together in time?"

  "Of course," he says, surprise in his sweet voice. Reaching out, he brushes my hair back from my face. "You're one-of-a-kind, Ellen. No matter what you can or can't do. I care about you, not your powers."

  Swallowing, I tell him, "I'm so afraid that I won't be enough for you—for all of you. And I'll fuck this up. Or we'll fuck it up together. I think I've been broken for so long that I don't know what it would feel like to function the right way. I'm not sure I'd recognize a good thing if it came along."

  Smiling with a little lopsided twist in his mouth, he cups my cheek and tells me, "It has come along, Ellen. You and me together—we'd be something special. I'd never hurt you."

  "I know that," I whisper.

  "And you couldn't possibly hurt me." Taking my hand, he places it against his chest, where I can feel the big beating thump of his heart. His breathing is deep and steady, unlike mine, his pulse a slow, constant rhythm. "Go ahead and try."

  "I don't have my powers," I tell him, adding, "Also, you know I didn't mean like that."

  "I know." He grins, and steps forward, closing the space between us. "I just wanted you to feel it when I flex my muscles."

  I laugh, and his chest ripples beneath my touch, and I feel so happy. It's a shocking feeling, this warmth inside me so bright and fulfilling it's like I swallowed the sun. Wyatt's hand moves from my cheek to the back of my neck, and I take a step towards him, and my lips part, and before I can even think another thought we're kissing.

  His mouth is soft and strong, just
like the chest that contains his big, beautiful heart. He tastes like the coffee they brew down in the dining hall and kisses me with a gentleness that makes me hunger for him to use his strength. I slide my hands up his arms, shivering at the fact that my fingers can't even begin to wrap around his muscles.

  He draws me towards him with the barest hint of pressure, his fingers always asking and never forcing or even urging. I feel like a spun glass figure in his hands as he wraps them around my waist, his strength holding me up, guiding me towards the tips of my toes so I can meet his height. There's something about his solidness that makes me feel as if I could fall from any height and I would always be caught in his arms.

  Wyatt's fingers skim beneath the edge of my shirt, searching and questioning.

  I pull back from his lips, breathless and warm. His eyes are half-lidded with desire. He licks his lips, and I feel like a different woman than the one I was even a day ago. This is something I believe I could actually do.

  So I tell him, "The doors to the training room lock."

  "Really?" His eyes widen. Hastily, he tells me, "It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to. And we can just see where things go, we don't have to—"

  "I know. And I want to. I mean, I still don't know if I'm ready for more. But I'd like to try." I take a deep breath, feeling the empty place in my ribs where my heart used to ache with anger and bitterness every time I thought of love. "You have to stop being such a dick to the other guys. No more competitiveness, either. I'm not a game you play."

  "I know that," he says solemnly, though he can't fight a bit of a triumphant grin that slides across his mouth. "As long as I can have you, I don't care about the rest. And I won't even rub Grayson's face in it."

  Sighing, I grudgingly admit, "He'd rub your face in it if it was him. I just don't want to deal with any pouting. Or brooding. Or bickering."

  Wyatt laughs, then kisses me, then swears against my lips, "You don't have to deal with it at all."

  I hope so. Maybe they can keep the fighting to themselves, when I'm not around. That way I can pretend like it doesn't exist.

  "I'm gonna lock the doors," Wyatt tells me. "And maybe change the music. This Kumbaya bullshit isn't exactly sexy."

  As if on cue, the meditation tracks switch over to an instructor in a calming voice who tells us both to breathe in one-two-three, breathe out one-two-three. We both laugh, and Wyatt heads over to the doors, grabbing the keys off the equipment table. My heart surges just to watch every movement he makes, and I try to swallow the nervousness I feel now that this moment is really here.

  I'm going to do it. I'm really going to try. Not just the physical stuff, but the rest of it too—opening myself up to them. Letting them in.

  Losing my powers has made me realize how much it would hurt to lose them too.

  Maybe Eve's right. Maybe this version of me—the broken, sometimes bitter, often scared or angry Ellen—can be enough. Can be loved, and love in return.

  Reaching towards the doors, Wyatt takes out the keys, his hands steady and true. Just as he's sliding them in the lock, they burst open from the other side, and a certain far-too-loud Levi comes crashing through.

  He looks at me and my kiss-damp lips, my mouth that's no doubt reddened from stubble, the way my shirt is pushed up at the hem... then over at Wyatt, and down, down, down to his crotch.

  Levi's mouth drops open and his brows jump. Then he grins at us both. "Room for three?"

  Chapter 6

  Nothing dampens the mood in a room like one Levi Ward, unasked for but somehow still here. Sighing, I look back and forth between a now-frowning Wyatt and the delighted interloper.

  "You guys really need to learn how to knock," I tell them. "Or we need to start putting a sock on the door."

  Levi just chuckles. "You think a sock would stop me?"

  Wyatt scowls. "Me so-socking... you in th-the face might wor-ork."

  He always stutters more when he's upset, which he clearly is right now. Striding forward, I put my hands on Levi's shoulders and meet his gaze.

  "Levi." Calmly, I take in a deep breath and force him to face me. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now."

  "Awwwww." He juts his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "But we were just getting to the good stuff!"

  "You're going to completely ruin the mood. No one wants to get sexy with you watching."

  "Sure about that?" He dips his face lower, damn him, and I actually feel my cheeks heat. "I'm great at giving instruction from the sidelines."

  I didn't think it was possible, but Wyatt's scowl actually deepens. It's shocking that Levi hasn't burst into flames. "G-get. Out."

  Sighing, Levi backs up and shakes his head. "Fine, I will. But it's your loss, Wyatt bud. I could've told you just where to touch Ellen to make this fascinating noise come out of her, kinda halfway between a mewl and a wail but a little bit—"

  He earns himself a kick to the shins. Shoving him out into the hallway, Wyatt closes the doors, locks them, then stares at them for a moment like he's unsatisfied. Grabbing the table by the wall, he pulls it over and uses it to barricade both the doors at the same time, then piles some equipment on top of it.

  "There." Turning back to me, he smirks in my direction as he scoops me up and pulls me against his chest again. "No more interruptions from anyone in the peanut gallery."

  "Sounds good to me."

  "Also," he adds as he gets close enough to kiss me, "you really, really need your own room. One with an automatic lock. And an alarm. And a sock on the bedroom door."

  "I'll put in a request with the headmaster."

  As we kiss again, he walks me back towards the soft, thick mat in the middle of the training room, where we normally practice our throws and falls. I can feel heat spark within me and desire come raging to life. Wyatt is like no other man I've slept with—not that that's saying a lot, since my body count is, well, just as high as my kill count.

  His physique is unmatched, though, from sheer size to absolute strength and power. Hands on my waist, he picks me up and places me in the center of the training mat, then pushes his fingers beneath my shirt. I step back and lift my arms up, and he undresses me slowly, eyes taking my body in.

  "You're beautiful," he says, reaching down to cup my breasts through my sports bra. "I want to see all of you."

  Biting my lower lip, I pull the bra off over my head. Wyatt's thumbs brush against my bare nipples, and he draws circles around them, drawing them to peaks. His hands are broad and calloused, impossibly strong as I lean forward into his grasp and kiss him.

  Reaching down, I cup his crotch and feel a thrill go through me at the size of the erection beneath my hand. Pulse racing, I pull at the drawstring to his loose athletic shorts, then push my fingers down beneath the fabric's confines. He groans into my mouth as my fingers brush against the base of his thick cock, little curly hairs prickling against my touch.

  As we greedily kiss each other's mouths, I circle my fingers around his shaft and feel myself get wetter by the moment in anticipation of his size. His length responds to me, and I tug his shorts down, enjoying the way his cock springs out of them. We both part from the kiss and stare into each other's eyes, panting a little, his fingers drawing pleasure from my nipples, his cock hard and slick with precum in my touch.

  Looking down, I feel a little nervous thrill at the size of him. He's just as big as you'd imagine a man his size would be, and his cock is still growing even harder in my hand. Licking my lips, I grab his shirt and pull it up. His arm muscles ripple as he helps me pull it off, revealing every inch of toned, strong, muscles in his chest and abdomen.

  He has an actual, honest-to-god, Thor-style six pack. There's even a sharp V that leads down to the base of his large, thick cock. I swallow a little as I stare at him, from his wide shoulders to his muscular arms to the erection that keeps drawing my eyes.

  Putting a hand around his shaft and squeezing it, Wyatt says, "I'll be g-gentle."

  "That's not it." I
lick my lips again, and his eyes follow the movement. "I just can't stop thinking about how good it'll feel. New and different. I didn't even know they made dicks that big."

  "They m-made mine."

  He grabs my shorts and tugs at them, and I step out of my shoes, then the shorts themselves, pulse racing as my body is bared beneath his touch. I can feel him study every inch of me hungrily, his warm brown eyes taking in my pale thighs and recently-shaved skin, which I took a sharp razor to while thinking of him. Flushing, I part my legs a little at his gaze and step towards him boldly.

  "What d'ya think?"

  "You're beautiful." Wyatt growls and pushes his fingers between my thighs, rubbing up towards my lower lips. "I'm gonna make you so wet. Then I want you to get on top of me and ride me for all you're worth." I suck in a breath, and he grins. "Just the thought of you getting on top of me and spreading your legs to make room for my cock makes me hard."

  It does. I can feel his cock twitch as I press my body against it, enjoying the way veins rise to the surface in appreciation of my touch. Staring up into his eyes, I flatten my hands against his muscles, slowly exploring his body.

  "How will you make me wet?" I ask, enjoying the flare of desire in his eyes at the sound of my voice. "With your fingers? Your tongue?" His hand presses up towards my pussy, and I gasp. "Maybe both?"

  "Both. Either. The head of my cock teasing against your pussy. Why don't we find out."

  He grabs me close and kisses me again, the length of our naked bodies pressed together. I part my legs a little and rub my thighs on either side of his cock, enjoying the way his kiss roughens and deepens, how he drops his broad hands to my ass and cups my body. His fingers crook inwards and skim against the back of my thighs, and I press down towards his grasp, aroused and needy.

  Wyatt's tongue expertly dives into my mouth as his fingers push inward and increase my pleasure. I can feel his cock spill precum against my skin and I rub against him wantonly, enjoying the illicit thrill of our bodies touching without a barrier between him. I crave to have all of him, to push him inside me and watch his face as my body opens up to him, wet and warm and willing.