“I know, but I felt something different with you last night, and then I took it too far. Oh, my gosh, I’m babbling.”
She swallowed. Her hands trembled. The sight of her nervousness made Ryan experience a surge of confidence like he’d never felt before. All traces of the Kid disappeared. Good riddance, Ryan thought.
He took her fingers and led her to his room, closing the door behind them. She’d been in his room lots of times back in the day, but this felt different. It was different. Back then, he used to leave the door open.
They faced each other, a few feet apart, making no move. He didn’t smile, and neither did she. When she lifted a hand to push hair behind her ear he noticed her trembling.
Was she scared? Nervous? Wishing she could change her mind?
“We don’t have to do anything,” he told her.
She peered down at their feet before meeting his eyes again. He couldn’t believe how unsettled she looked.
“You don’t want to?” she asked.
“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying you don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe you a lot.” She took a tentative step forward. “Listen . . . I know you used to have a crush on me. And I know I wasn’t exactly careful about your feelings. I’m sorry I never took you more seriously.” Her dark chocolate eyes stayed on his, watering slightly, but steady. “I just . . . this feels bigger . . . more real than anything. I don’t want to mess it up. If we do this, it’ll change everything. And I’m worried that if we hook up, it’ll break the spell, and you’ll be over it.”
Ryan couldn’t help but be hurt that she thought she was only a conquest for him. He rumpled his flat hair and wished he had his hat on.
“This isn’t just some crush, Brooke. It’s not going to disappear.”
“How do you know?” Her eyes were really watering now. “I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t want anything to do with me afterward. I know I have no right to expect anything. I haven’t exactly been a great friend, but now that I have you again, I don’t want to lose you.”
He couldn’t believe she thought she’d be the one who would end up hurt. “That’s not going to happen, because I love you. If anyone’s getting their heart broken here, it’s me. Not you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either,” she whispered.
“Then don’t. Don’t run from me. Let me in.”
The tension, distinct and electric, built between them until he stepped forward, slipped his hand under her hair, and pulled her face to his. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back without hesitation, pressing her body against his and pulling him tighter. Vanilla swarmed his system. They kissed until her back bumped against the wall and they broke away. Both were breathing hard.
“Ry . . .” Brooke let out a nervous giggle. “This is so . . . you’re so—”
“Shh.”
He kissed her again, and when she moaned he felt it all the way to his bare toes.
She’d come to him, fearful and sober, wanting him. It was all he could think about.
With both palms on her neck, and his thumbs rubbing her jawline, he felt her pulse race beneath his hands as she reached for the button on his jeans.
“Uh-uh,” he said against her lips, dropping his hands to take her wrists and pull them around his waist.
Ryan kissed her harder, and seconds later he tasted salt. He pulled back enough to see tears streaming down her cheeks. But she wasn’t sad. He worried if he’d been too rough with her, only to feel her nails dig into his lower back as her hands slipped under his shirt and pulled him closer.
She lifted his shirt, and he let her pull it over his head. The little, feminine sound of approval she made at the sight of him nearly caused him to lose all sense of right and wrong. Then she shocked him by pulling her own shirt over her head. Ryan knew he must look like a virginal preteen because he couldn’t stop staring at her soft, creamy skin and beautiful curves. Brooke just stroked his face and ran her fingers down his arms, letting him look.
He held his breath as he reached for her waist. When he touched her, she didn’t pull away. She arched her back toward him, and his mouth came down on hers again. He pulled her toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, and brought her down so they were both lying on their sides. She reached for his jeans again, and this time he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, gently biting her fingertip.
A confused, anxious look crossed her face. “Why?”
“Because I have other things in mind. Things that require your clothes coming off, not mine.”
He could tell he’d shocked her because she couldn’t even answer. Her eyes got big, and he watched her chest rise and fall a little faster. He couldn’t get over how her body reacted to his every word and touch.
He watched her swallow hard before her eyebrows came together in worry and she glanced away.
“There’s so much you don’t know,” she said. “My life’s been a mess. If you knew everything . . .”
“I’d still love you.”
Her chin shook, but she nodded as if she believed him, and his acceptance of her only seemed to make her more emotional. Ryan wiped away the lines of tears from her cheeks. She ran her hand over the curve of his shoulder, just as filled with wonder as he was.
“When did you get so hot, Ry? I mean, you were always cute, but damn—”
He kissed her again and laid her back, letting himself feel more than he’d ever felt in his life. He knew she’d only thought of him as a friend before. He knew she hadn’t been ready for what he wanted. But now . . . now . . . finally.
An hour later they lay there together, Ryan still wearing his jeans, with the blanket pulled up over them.
“This is so weird,” Brooke whispered. She ran her fingers over the planes of his chest. “I’ve dated a lot, Ry. I’m sure you know that. But I swear I’ve never felt like this.” She searched his eyes. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever trusted. I feel safe with you.”
“Good,” he said, kissing her lips.
“And spoiled,” she added.
“I’ve waited a long time for this.” His stark honesty surprised him.
“I want you to feel safe, too, though.” When he didn’t say anything she asked, “Do you?”
Ryan thought about the last two years since she’d been away. Not once had she invited him to visit or tried to make him a part of her new life. He wanted to believe a miracle had taken place between them now, but he was too realistic for that.
“I’m still not sure you won’t walk out that door and forget about me,” he said.
Pain settled on her face. “I’ll just have to prove myself, then.”
He paused. Since they were being honest, Ryan reached out to stroke her cheek, and said quietly, “You can start by not drinking anymore.”
He waited for an indignant response. The drinking thing was for her, not him, but he knew it was a hurdle in her life that she’d have to get over. She had to believe in herself.
A tear trickled down her cheek, making a wet path across her wrist where she leaned her head.
“I want to stop,” she said. She stared with open sincerity in her eyes. “I don’t feel like I need it when I’m with you.”
“You don’t.” Ryan wasn’t a fool. He knew changing this would not be easy, and he couldn’t always be with her. But the fact that she was willing to try made him grateful.
Ryan heard a car pulling up outside and his eyes widened.
“Shit, my mom!”
They both jumped from the bed, laughing as they tugged their clothes on and Ryan flung the door open. They were sitting innocently on his bed when his mom came up the stairs and stopped in his doorway.
“Oh, my goodness, Brooke!” she said. “It’s great to see you!”
“You, too, Mrs. McPhearson. How are you?”
“Wonderful. Even better after some time with my friends.”
His mom looked back and forth between Ryan and Brooke, a knowing look in he
r eye, and she smiled.
“Well, I’ll let you guys hang out.” With a wink, she turned and headed for her room.
“Your mom’s so cool,” Brooke said. Ryan had to agree.
Brooke took his hand and he rubbed his thumb over hers.
“How are you getting back to school tomorrow?” he asked.
“My mom.” She sounded less than thrilled.
An idea emerged, filling him with ideas. “Can I take you?”
Brooke beamed. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you want.”
“I want.” She scooted closer, biting her lip. “Can you stay until Tuesday?”
His blood heated, and he nodded.
“But, Ryan . . . I don’t want this to end on Tuesday.” She curled her fingers into the cotton of his T-shirt and tugged him closer, her face earnest.
“Neither do I,” he said. “And if you try to run after a couple months I’ll stalk you.”
Brooke laughed. He was joking, but his fear of being one of her fling-and-toss guys was real. They would both have to prove themselves.
“Is it bad that the thought of you stalking me makes me kinda hot?” she asked.
Now it was his turn to laugh. He reached down and they twined their fingers together. They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, soaking in the newness of their circumstances.
“We can make this work, right?” Brooke whispered.
If he had anything to do with it, yes.
He leaned forward and kissed her. The intentions of his heart were clear. He’d long ago stopped believing their someday would come. Now it was here, against all odds, and whether or not Brooke knew it, he intended to turn someday into forever.
Excerpt from Wendy Higgins’s Sweet Peril
Read an excerpt from Wendy Higgins’s Sweet Peril, the second book in the Sweet Evil series.
PROLOGUE
EMERGENCY SUMMIT, 1748, ROME, ITALY
Unbeknownst to the Roman community, 666 earthbound demons were making use of the infamous Colosseum. Twelve of the fallen ones, the Dukes, were present in human form, while the others hovered as spirits, blotting celestial lights from the night sky.
Rahab, the Duke of Pride, took his place in the center, exhilarated by the attention his presence commanded. He looked out with vehemence on thousands of Duke descendants, the Nephilim race, who had been summoned to the meeting from all corners of the earth.
“Let us officially open this summit,” Rahab ordered.
A reverent combination of hissing and chanting filled the Colosseum—the ghoulish melody issued from the Dukes and spirits overhead as they flapped their massive wings in unison. A chill spread across the expectant audience as Rahab poised himself to reveal the purpose of their gathering.
“It has come to our attention that two of you Nephilim no longer find it necessary to focus on the work for which you were bred.”
Nobody moved.
Rahab turned his stare to a teenage girl in the crowd, who flinched as if stung by his cruel gaze. She averted her almond eyes, a dark lock falling from her upswept hair as she shrank back.
“Come forward, daughter of Alocer.” At these words from Rahab, the girl gave a violent shudder.
“Femi?” Duke Alocer made his way to the front, forehead creased with displeasure as he sought his daughter.
“Father . . .” Femi whispered so low that normal human ears would never have caught it, but every being in the Colosseum that night could.
“Come here,” her father said. “What have you done?”
Femi made her way to him, in layers of Egyptian silk.
“Father, have mercy on me, I beg you. I carry your grandchild.”
Alocer paused, and his forehead smoothed over.
“Is that all?” he asked. “You know you will not survive the birth.”
She lowered her eyes again and nodded. Alocer turned to Rahab.
“This is commonplace, Rahab.” He did not bother disguising his irritation. “Pregnancy is hardly a worthy reason to call forth an emergency summit. The girl is a hard worker.”
“Ah, yes.” Rahab turned his sneer to Alocer’s daughter. “I’m sure this pregnancy is a result of all your hard work. No doubt you conceived while in the act of leading a human to sin. . . . Isn’t that right, girl?”
A look of horrified realization crossed Femi’s face as she searched the crowd, meeting only blank and hostile stares. She collapsed to the ground at her father’s feet and sobbed, kissing his toes and ankles. Alocer stared down, bewildered.
“Who have you been with?” he asked her. She shook her head, hair dragging on the ground around his feet.
Rahab bent down and yanked Femi by the hair, forcing her to look up. “Answer your father. Tell him!” Femi only cried harder and screamed as Rahab’s fingers pulled tighter. “Fear keeps her silent, and so it should, because the father is not human. He is one of them—one of her own kind.”
A collective gasp rose from the crowd, followed by quick whispers and a hush. Duke Alocer’s eyes narrowed to thin slits as he searched between Femi and Rahab.
“That’s right.” Tiny specs of foam formed at the creases of Rahab’s smile. “Suspicions were raised by one of my very own Legionnaires, and confirmation was made by a fellow Neph.”
“Who was it?” Duke Sonellion asked, icy hatred in his crystalline eyes. “Who do we get to punish?”
Rahab raised an eyebrow, anticipation drawing out. “Yoshiro, son of Jezebet.”
“This cannot be!” The eyes of Duke Jezebet shone deep red as he stepped forward to face Rahab. He was the smallest of the Dukes, but his quickness and sharp eyes lent him a powerful presence. “Where is the Neph who has made this claim?”
“I regret to say she took her own life after revealing this hideous truth to us.” Rahab settled a hand over his heart.
“Yoshiro has faithfully served our cause!” Jezebet shouted, ignoring his antics.
“We shall see about that,” said Rahab. “Come forward, Yoshiro.”
The crowd began to part. All turned toward Yoshiro as he came through, taller than his father, carrying a thin sword.
“Stop right there,” Rahab said. “Lay down your weapon or it will be taken from you.”
“Stupid boy!” Jezebet chided him. “Have you no sense? You are to work against humanity, not waste away your days with a sister Nephilim!”
Yoshiro looked at Femi, who still lay in a pile of grief at her father’s feet. He set down his sword.
“This is my doing,” Yoshiro said to the Dukes. “Do not bother with Femi.”
“How very romantic.” Rahab’s voice was softly mocking. “But must I point out the obvious? You both forfeited her life the moment she conceived. Pity.”
Rahab paced for a moment, eyeing the distance with a dark smile. “Did you know some half-million humans perished in these very walls?” he asked. “These grounds are thirsty for the blood of its youth. It is the perfect venue for our own games, wouldn’t you say? I do so hope that our two little gladiators will attempt to escape. . . .” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Yoshiro and Femi, who were stunned into stillness, as if disbelieving that their secret had been made known and their lives had come to this. Several Dukes laughed without true humor, while the remaining Nephilim moved farther away, placing as much distance as possible between themselves and the unfolding events.
“Well?” Rahab threw out his arms. “Now’s your chance. Run!”
Femi rose to her feet with a sob and pushed her way through the Dukes to Yoshiro. They grabbed hands, and together they ran down the length of the broken Colosseum, flanked by pestering spirits who gave chase above them. Several Dukes cheered with malicious glee at the sight.
“You.” Rahab scanned the crowd and pointed to a male among the outskirts. The straight-faced young man stepped out with a bow slung across his shoulder.
“Kill them both,” Rahab commanded.
The Neph set his jaw and hesitated only a moment
before nodding. He took an arrow from the quiver on his back and stretched the bow taut. Despite the cool night, a bead of sweat rolled into his eye and he bent his head to his sleeve, wiping.
“They’re getting away, fool!” shouted the Duke of Hate.
The boy honed in on the running couple using his extended sight and auditory senses, then with a rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, he let the first arrow fly, followed immediately by the second.
His aim was perfect. For two heartbeats, the Colosseum was ghostly quiet as Femi and Yoshiro fell, limbs draped across each other in a macabre heap. The young man’s bow arm went limp at his side and he moved back into the crowd, head lowered.
“That’s it, then?” hollered Thamuz, Duke of Murder. “Where’s the sport in a quick kill, I ask you?”
Rahab chuckled. “Be still, Thamuz. I suppose we shouldn’t expect much more when we have a Neph boy doing a dirty job for us. Consider this a reminder to you all!” Rahab’s voice rang out to the fringes of the Nephilim. “Your single purpose is to carry forth sin to humanity. If you choose to do otherwise, you forfeit your time on earth. And if you choose to forget your fates, rest assured that I will not. Now go! Leave us to our summit.”
The horde crammed together, shuffling and shoving to exit the presence of the Dukes.
Jezebet and Alocer stood with stony expressions as the Nephilim filed past.
Rahab cracked his knuckles and stared at the backs of the last retreating bodies. “For centuries I’ve said those unpredictable half-breeds are more trouble than they’re worth, but you lot insist on having them. They’re an abomination—as stupid as humans but as dangerous as wild animals.”
He smiled to himself before whispering his next thought out loud.
“Even God himself has forsaken and forgotten them.”
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all . . .
—Emily Dickinson
Love cannot be forced, love cannot be coaxed. . . .
Flirting With Maybe Page 7
