What they didn’t say was that neither of them knew what happened if an angel failed. They were just…gone, replaced. Where they went was something no Guardian knew. Tori didn’t guess anyone who’d failed got a promotion, but she didn’t want to find out if the other option was a downward spiral to the hot spot. Some mysteries she’d learned not to wonder about. It was safer that way.
A pensive frown drew Jericho’s brows together. “I had one assignment that didn’t pan out.”
“I don’t even want to imagine what that means.” A sick feeling hollowed out the pit of her belly. She told herself the feeling stemmed from the notion of going through that herself rather than the thought of Jericho coming so close to disappearing the way the angel he’d replaced here had been.
He sighed, shaking his head. He swallowed audibly, his voice hoarse. “The soul mate committed suicide. I had to hand my client over to a grief angel.”
“Damn.” I’m sorry. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. Offering sympathy, reaching out, would only make this situation worse for everyone concerned. Her heart twisted at the very idea of passing off a client that way, of having them hurt like that on her watch. For better or for worse, she came to care about all her people. In that, she knew she was lucky in her job. She got to help people find love—how the Guardians who dealt with ugly emotions like despair, depression, loss and suicide made it through the day was beyond her.
A shudder went through her. She was happy to keep her job, thanks so much. Failure was not an option. Mason and Celia were going to fall in love and they were going to be happy, even if she had to hog-tie their stubborn asses together for eternity. She stabbed her fork viciously into an innocent piece of broccoli.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know I don’t like the look on your face.” Lazy amusement curled through Jericho’s voice, and he settled back against the smooth wood of the booth.
She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, wrinkling her nose. “Just thinking we may have to hog-tie our clients together or something to make this work.”
“You always did have a fondness for being tied up.” The amusement was still in his deep tone, but laced with rough desire, with hot memories she’d tried to scrub from her mind long ago.
How he’d snuck into her brother’s encampment, bound her and gagged her, stealing her away in the middle of the night to hold as a hostage. How he’d removed the gag when he’d gotten her back to his camp, and she’d challenged him, hurled every insult she’d ever heard at him, cursing him in four different languages. How she’d still been bound when he’d kissed her, stroked her, made love to her the first time. How she’d moaned and sobbed and begged him for more.
Her nipples hardened and wetness slicked her sex as the erotic parade marched behind her eyes. Goose bumps rippled down her skin, and her blood rushed hot through her veins. She barely managed to swallow the bite of food in her mouth without choking. Pain and lust twisted like wild things inside her, shredding her until she wanted to howl with the awfulness of it. Please, God, make it stop. Please. She couldn’t bear this. Not now. Not again. Not with him.
“No response, huh? Tori.” He said the nickname slowly, as though savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “I like that. It suits you, darlin’.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not your darling. I never was.” She could have bitten her tongue off trying to snap her mouth shut. Too late. The words were out there, falling like heavy stones between them. She should have ignored his goading, shouldn’t have mentioned the past at all, shouldn’t even have acknowledged they had one. The very last thing she wanted was to rehash old times with him. The past was, by very definition, done and over with. It should stay that way.
His silver eyes zeroed in on her, made her want to squirm in discomfort. A flash of what almost looked like hurt flickered in his gaze. She repressed a snort. Right. She’d have to matter to him to hurt his feelings, and she knew she never had.
That was how they’d ended up in this mess. In life, they’d been soul mates, destined for one another, even though they were wary and untrusting, on opposite sides of a war. Then she’d risked everything to warn him about a surprise raid Enrique had planned…only to find her beloved in bed with another woman.
A stray shot fired during the raid had taken her life, but she’d already been shattered beyond repair.
She hadn’t known it then, but their own Guardians had failed them, and when Tori and Jericho had died because of that failure, they’d been recruited to replace their angels. That was how it worked. Failure meant another angel replaced you. Failure resulting in the death of a client meant the client replaced you. It was just Tori and Jericho’s misfortune that both of them had died that day. And it was just Tori’s luck that a man she never wanted to see again, a man who should have croaked at a ripe old age before the turn of the last century, had followed her into unwilling immortality.
Fuck.
Chapter Three
Tori grabbed her bag, tossed more than enough cash to cover their meal onto the table, shot out of her seat, and ran like hell. She couldn’t do this. She could not do this.
He caught her on the street, of course. Jericho had never been one to let anything go. His fingers wrapped tight around her upper arm, pulling her to a stop and forcing her to face him. She kept her gaze pinned to his chest, grating out as few words as possible. “I need to go home.”
She felt his gaze move over her, studying her—her face, her eyes, her breasts beneath the serviceable top she wore, her white-knuckled grip on the handle of her purse. “Fine. I’ll walk you.”
Shifting his inexorable grip, he steered her toward the small bed and breakfast inn she owned—or, at least, the angelic woo-woo of her cover identity meant people thought she owned it and had owned it for years and years. Thankfully, it was close to the town square, which the diner faced. They didn’t have far to go. Still, she was painfully aware of his hand on her skin as they walked through the square. She hated herself for being unable to squelch her reaction. She wanted to run screaming, she wanted to tackle him to the ground and do filthy things to his body. She wanted to beat him to a pulp for hurting her and ruining her one chance at happiness. She did none of those things—the town gossip didn’t make gossip for other people to spread around.
His hand on her elbow would look like nothing more than polite and solicitous assistance to an elderly lady, but the rough calluses on his fingertips rubbed in slow circles against her arm. Goose bumps raced over her limbs again and she shivered, her nipples tightening to painful points. She hadn’t been this turned on in over a century. Not since the last time he’d touched her.
She turned her head to meet his gaze squarely, unflinching. “While we walk, let’s discuss Mason and Celia. Then I’d like us to have as little contact as possible until this is over.”
Again, she felt him study her, but she refused to be discomfited by him. He faced forward. “We should definitely talk about the assignment.”
“Okay. Good.” Relief that he didn’t push the subject of their interactions, past or future, made the air squeeze out of her lungs.
“You’ve done a great job of steering Mason in the right direction, but it’s obvious to anyone—including Celia—he’s just looking to score. And get rid of what has to be a serious case of blue balls.”
She choked, and a laugh exploded out of her. Wrapping her arm around herself, she tried to hold in the shrieks of laughter and not drop her purse. Hilarity made her voice shake. “I cannot believe you said that.”
A rich chuckle answered her, and she watched the lines crinkle around his eyes as his white teeth flashed in a wide smile. “The truth hurts.”
“Much like blue balls.”
His broad shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “It’s hard on a guy.”
“So I’ve heard.” She snorted on another chuckle. “I’ll take your word on it.”
“They both have trust issues. They
’re wary. It’s understandable, given their pasts.” His dark brows drew together, his focus turning inward for a moment. Then he sighed and his lips quirked in a small grin. “Which is pretty much the same old story for what we do.”
God, she loved his smile. She always had. He was freer with it now than he had been, which was good for him, and bad for her control. She’d always been a sucker for a man who could make her laugh. She slammed the brakes on that alarming and dangerous line of thought.
Jericho’s breath caught. She shot a sharp glance at him in time to see him jerk his chin aside to stare at a tree as they passed another couple. She arched her eyebrows, but immediately recognized the chief of police and his wife, Aubrey. She smiled and nodded as they walked by, but the two were absorbed in each other and barely spared her a glance before they disappeared around a bend in the path.
“Your most recent conquest. Nicely done, by the way.” Her eyebrows lifted higher. “You’re in a different disguise, Jericho. They won’t recognize you.”
He grunted. “It’s the eyes. No matter how many faces I wear, I’ve never gotten the eyes to change color.”
“And it’s a distinctive color. That is a problem.”
“Not usually.” He shrugged. “I move around with my assignments, so I’m not in one place long enough for anyone to notice.”
True enough. Travel was the name of their game. “But you finished up with them, and there was a local project that fell in your lap.”
“Something like that.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed, flattening to a cold pewter. “You knew I was in town and you avoided me.”
Damn. Caught. She hurried her steps, heaving a sigh of intense relief as the inn came into view. She kept her voice light, her tone dismissive. “I gave you a hand. Not that the chief needed any urging, but when he asked about Aubrey’s dating habits, I filled him in, encouraged him a little. I am the town gossip, you know. Information sharing is what I do. I also used the dachshund I was dog sitting for a friend to trip her up and get her carried into his house for their first date. You’re welcome.”
“You avoided me.” The words shot from his mouth like bullets, and she felt his muscular body tense. He dragged her to a stop in front of the B&B.
“I had my own assignment to deal with. There was no need to interact with you, no need to draw attention to ourselves.” She set her jaw at a stubborn angle, daring him to refute her. His gaze heated with the challenge, and she almost groaned. Challenging Jericho was a mistake and she knew it. That was how she’d ended up flat on her back the night they’d met.
“Yes, there’s no need to draw attention to ourselves. We shouldn’t make a scene.” His hand lifted, and he stroked a single fingertip across her cheekbone, trailed it to her jaw, and down her throat, where she knew he could feel her pulse pounding. His movements were slow, giving her the chance to pull away. She didn’t. God, she craved him. She always had, and it stabbed at her heart to realize she always would.
She swayed toward him, her brain short-circuiting as an image of them in the privacy of her bedroom, in her bed, formed and refused to leave.
“It’s not working, acting as if this is about our job. I want you too much to pretend I haven’t been hard since the moment you walked into the restaurant tonight. You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice dropped to a low, silken purr that stroked over her nerves, exciting her, soothing her.
Her eyes closed as his words washed over her, undermining all of her righteous bitterness. Whether she liked it or not, she reacted to this man. No one could make her angrier, faster. No one could make her hornier, faster. This many months of celibacy only made it that much harder to resist the magnetic pull he had on her by just standing there and breathing. When he said things like that to her, used that tone of voice, it made fire flood her.
Swallowing, she glanced away and squeezed her thighs together to quell the ache between them. It was a wasted effort. “We’re in public, Jericho. Don’t forget when people look at us, they see an old lady and a gay man.”
“Then let’s go somewhere private because within the next five minutes you’re going to be under me, whether we’re in public or not.” That stroking finger moved over her lips before curving under her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze, the steely, relentless determination that shone there. “I want you stripped and spread for me. I want my tongue in your mouth while you scream and sigh and moan. I want your nails digging into my back when I slide into that tight, wet little pussy of yours. I want to fuck you until neither of us can stand. And then I’m really going to get started on you.”
She wanted that. All of that. So much that every other thought fled, her hormones rioted, her body overruling her mind.
They made it to the small guesthouse behind the inn that she used for her home before he had his hands all over her, but it was a close call. The door hadn’t even swung shut before his mouth covered hers and his tongue thrust between her lips.
A moan ripped from her throat. He tasted the same—like honey and hot, wicked man. Like heaven on earth. Like Jericho. She twisted her fingers in his silky hair, holding him in place while she tangled her tongue with his. Her body burned, ached with emptiness, wetness flooding her core until she thought she might cry if he didn’t fill her soon. She rocked herself against him in shameless abandon, her nails digging into his scalp as she sought to communicate her need. He groaned, but didn’t slow down.
His palms slid over her back, one dipping down to cup her backside and lift her body into his. The rigid length of his cock rubbed against the juncture of her thighs. A low, choking cry issued from her throat, and she rose on tiptoe, wrapped one leg around his hip, and tried to ride his erection through both their pants. God, she craved him as much as she ever had. More. She ground herself against him in a desperate search for orgasm.
He made a rough, guttural noise, both hands on her ass, lifting her off her feet so she could twine her legs around his lean waist. Stumbling forward, he pressed her back to the wall and rolled his hips against hers, rubbing his cock right where she needed it. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids, pleasure swamping her in a rush. They still had all their clothes on and she was a heartbeat away from shattering.
She arched helplessly in his arms, her mouth ripping free of his as she writhed against him. “I’m so close, Jericho.”
“Not yet, Tori. Not yet.” He tugged at her legs, disentangling himself from her grip. She moaned a protest, her nails digging into his shoulders. His voice was a deep rasp in her ear, his accent thickening with his lust. “I want to be inside you when you come for me, darlin’. I want to feel it.”
A sob ripped from her throat, and she clutched at him, her head rolling on the wall. Lust slammed into her in waves that threatened to drown her. “Hurry.”
His hands were busy on the fly of her slacks, wrenching open the zipper and shoving them and her panties down her legs. He lifted her out of her loafers and braced her against the wall again. Her legs automatically wrapped around his hips as she tried to keep her balance, but there was no balance to be had with Jericho. There never had been.
“I can’t wait.” His words were little more than a breath of air against her lips before he claimed her mouth again. The smooth, hot head of his cock nudged against her slick folds. She had no idea when he’d unfastened his own pants, but she didn’t have time to wonder as he slammed deep with one hard thrust. Her back bowed in reflex to the sudden invasion, the thickness of him painful after so many months of celibacy. But even the pain became a slicing, white-hot blade of pleasure. She screamed for him then, just as he’d wanted, the sound high, thin and wild, smothered by his mouth.
He pounded into her, his movements fast and rough and so damn exciting she knew she’d come in minutes, seconds. A sob caught in her throat at losing this connection so soon, emotion she didn’t want to feel ripping at her control. His fingers bit into her ass as he hitched her higher against the wall, changed the angle of his penet
ration, made it even better for her. He hit her G-spot with every thrust, and his tongue still moved boldly in her mouth, his honeyed flavor assaulting her, his masculine scent filling her tortured lungs with every gasping breath.
He took every part of her and claimed it for himself.
One hand slipped inward, the fingers circling the tight bud of her anus. She moaned, shuddered, her heart hammering at the thought of him touching her there, taking her there. A single fingertip pressed inward, and she tore her mouth away from his. “Yes! Oh, yes. Jericho!”
He just chuckled, the sound dark and smoky, and worked his finger deep into her ass. His cock pistoning in and out of her pussy, his finger massaging the tight ring of her anus, the feel and taste of him after so long, stripped what was left of her control. Her body bowed hard, her head falling back against the wall. She exploded in one unstoppable rush. Her sex convulsed around him, her muscles clenching, milking him until her mouth opened in a silent scream.
A hoarse, guttural groan jerked from him as orgasm gripped him. He shoved into her once, twice, three more times before his fluids erupted inside her. It was enough to push her over the edge again, her pussy fisting tight as helpless shivers wracked her body.
“Tori,” he breathed, the word almost a prayer. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, he licked her, kissed her sensitized flesh.
Closing her eyes, she swallowed back the unwanted, unwarranted tears. Her mind refused to work, her thoughts drifting. She knew she should move, should push him away, but her muscles were as unresponsive as her brain, so she just stayed where she was, panting for breath, waiting for her racing heartbeat to slow. Waiting for reality to come roaring back to bitch-slap her.
They both groaned when his cock began to lengthen and harden inside her again, expanding to stretch her from deep inside. He straightened away from the wall, wrapped his arms tight around her, and walked unsteadily through the open bedroom door. Cradling her close, he lowered them both to the cool, smooth quilt, and sipped soft kisses from her lips as he went.
Believe in Me: Unbelievable, Book 2 Page 2
