by Nashoda Rose
“We need to play a role here, babe.” I thought he might let me go when his finger stopped caressing me. Instead, he leaned closer and kissed me. It was a soft kiss on the lips, but the moment our lips connected, the sparks ignited.
He deepened the kiss, his hand tightening on the back of my neck. My mouth yielded to his harsh assault of carnal fluidity. Saturated warmth of raw need broke the boundaries of what we were.
I didn’t think either of us expected it. Nothing could have prepared me to be taken by him with a power that didn’t just grab me—it changed me.
I couldn’t breathe as I swayed into him, my hands coming up to rest on his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. It was knee weakening, panty dampening and heart pounding. I should’ve pushed him away. I didn’t.
Jasper Kyelin was an overbearing, morally deficient asshole. But for that one moment when his lips took mine, he made me his. And for the first time, I felt wanted and beautiful.
Then he groaned.
And the sound broke through my moment of vulnerability. I pulled back so hard, I nearly toppled over the back of the bar stool. I would have if Jasper hadn’t still had a hold of my neck.
Our eyes locked. My lips parted as if to say something, still breathless from his kiss. I hadn’t expected it to be so potent, like a drug hitching a ride through my veins. I wasn’t stupid. I knew he wanted to fuck me and I suspected he knew I wanted him.
But I needed to stomp it down before he stomped all over me. I wasn’t being sloppy seconds to Julianna.
His fingers wove through my hair and he pulled me closer. I resisted and he scowled. “Your mouth is one hell of a place to be, sunshine. Didn’t expect that.” His grip tightened. “If there is a next time, and I suspect there will be, your mouth touches no other. Not while its playing with mine.”
Whoa, what? “A next time? Are you kidding me? There shouldn’t have been a first time. You had your lips locked on some other chick how many hours ago? No, there won’t be a next time.”
“Didn’t kiss her, Max. She kissed me and I stopped it.”
“Oh, is that one of your rules. No kissing, only fucking?” Why did it bother me if he fucked another woman? I shouldn’t care. I didn’t care. But I did.
“Didn’t fuck her either. Haven’t in years.” He quickly let me go as if I’d burned him. “We have company.”
I tensed and went to look around when his voice penetrated my mind. “Men by the door. Two of them. We’re going to walk right by them. They make a move, you head for the bike and I’ll meet you there.”
It was the first time he’d spoken to me telepathically. It was a very intimate way of communicating, as if the person was inside of you, part of you. Jasper’s voice was different, raspier and his accent was more distinguishable. But the subtleness of it made it mysterious and dark, yet with a gentleness as though he caressed me with his words. I also sensed the black hole that encased his heart.
Jasper Kyelin was more than a Scar assassin with an arrogance that warred against the Goddess who made us. Against the laws of the Scars. He had parts of him that lay hidden beneath his assholishness.
“Max,” Jasper hissed. He was trying to get my attention, hand on my arm and eyes drilling into me. “A hell of a time to be daydreaming about my kiss.”
There was a slight pressure in my head as he attempted to get past the walls around my thoughts. He’d have a while to go because living with Drake had taught me to learn how to block others out. It had taken years, but having Drake read my thoughts had set me up for more punishments because he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Jasper being a Sounder, had probably heard the two men talking and knew instantly that they were searching for me. The tension hummed in his body, the coiled up muscles ready to react. A guy like Jasper stayed alive by being vigilant and cautious.
His fingers casually played with my hair, tantalizing and sensual. Yet his attention was elsewhere. If I’d been an observer, I’d have seen a man intent on his girl, the smoldering eyes, and the closeness of bodies.
Mechanical. It felt and looked sensual, but if you looked beyond what was there, read the signs, it was mechanical. A well-oiled machine. Rhythmic. Focused. Unyielding to the threat.
This was why Jasper was paid to protect me.
“Here you go, sweetie.” The waitress plunked down the order on the counter and Jasper reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the counter. He picked up the cardboard tray with the coffees and the brown paper bag which he placed in the tray between them.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, snagged my hand, pulled me off the stool and started walking straight toward the men.
There was no hesitation in anything he did. I wondered why we didn’t go out a back door maybe through the kitchen. The men stared at us as we approached. I knew from the lack of black licorice scent that they weren’t vampires nor Long Neck Centered World Others, CWOs, who looked like they had just crawled out of a dumpster. Smelled like it too.
“What are they?”
Jasper ignored me.
He walked straight toward the men and my grip on his hand tightened. What the hell was he doing? I stared at my feet and leaned in closer to him. I hated not having my blades with me. I had no defense as a Healer.
“Excuse me,” he said to the one man who partially blocked the door with his bulk.
I held my breath. Waiting for the strike. The gunshot. Being grabbed and taken away.
Feet shifted and then we were walking past them and out the door. Jasper tossed the coffees and toast into the bin, and within seconds, we were on the bike and back on the road.
I had no idea where we were headed, but wherever it was, it was fast. Jasper never let up for a good hour. When he finally pulled onto the shoulder, it was on a quieter road where few cars passed by. He shut off the bike and I slid off. And waited. Because Jasper remained where he was, hands resting on his thighs and not saying anything.
Then he did. “You trying to get us killed?” I was standing slightly behind him so he had to turn to look at me. And fuck, it was a look. One that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and had me grinding my teeth back and forth. “Never . . .” he snagged my wrist, fingers bruising, “speak telepathically around anyone when you don’t know what the fuck they are.”
“You did.” Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut and just said, ‘yes, sir’ like I had done with Drake. But Jasper had split me open and I could no longer stay quiet. My fight to get back the control I used to have and the ease of living in the dark . . . it was slipping away.
Jasper had ripped down my black shield and splattered me with a spectral of colors. And despite hating him for it, with each breath I was feeling more alive than I ever had.
“From fifty feet away and I know my limits. Do you understand me?” He let me go and shook his head back and forth. “And if you say fuckin’ ‘yes, sir,’ I’ll do what I should’ve days ago and spank your ass right here on the side of the road.”
The pull upward at the corner of my mouth surprised me. He really was an asshole, but for the first time since he’d barged into my bedroom, Jasper looked and sounded worried. Yeah, it was subtle like the slight shift in the direction of the breeze, but I’d felt it when he held my wrist. The peppering of his nerves awakening under his heated skin.
Had he been worried about those men? About himself? About me? Or was it simply my imagination?
“Get on the bike.”
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” I knew we were meeting Xamien, but I wasn’t sure where or when.
“To France.”
“France?”
“There’s a place that’s safe for you to lay low. Xamien will meet us near there. Now, will you get on the bike?” he ground out.
Shit, he was still pissed. I threw my leg over the bike and settled in behind him. There was a time for pushing him and this wasn’t it. It wasn’t fear of him that kept me silent. It was the simple deduction that it wouldn’t have
done any good. He’d been right. I shouldn’t have spoken telepathically so close to those men because if they had been rogue Scars, they’d have known instantly we were too.
“I’m sorry.”
His back stiffened and then he punched the handle bar and turned to look at me. “You didn’t know any better. It’s fine.” I knew it wasn’t, but he was trying to make me feel better and that was a first. He started the bike back up and I put my arms around him.
We rode for another hour before he pulled off onto a dirt road. We bounced along the unkempt winding path barricaded by trees on either side of us. A few minutes later, we broke into a clearing and I peered over Jasper’s shoulder.
Now, this I hadn’t expected. There was a small plane and a grass runway. A plane with wings wearing the age of time. Black spots littered across the base of the upper wing and what appeared like rust speckled the propeller on the front.
Jasper pulled up beside it and we dismounted his bike.
“A plane?”
The right corner of Jasper’s mouth curled upward and his eyes brightened. “Meet Fiona.”
“Fiona?”
The anger had washed away and it was the playful Jasper again. “My plane.”
“Yeah, I got that. But Fiona needs a facelift. Maybe even a new Fiona.”
Jasper chuckled. “She’s never let me down. I trust her.”
I don’t. “Are there parachutes in the plane? Helmets? Fire protection suits?”
He burst out laughing and the sound sank into me, sparking heat from the tips of my fingers straight down to my toes. It was obvious from the lightness in him that Fiona was his pride and joy. I was surprised Jasper had a pride and joy as I had the impression there was nothing he cared about.
I did wonder who she was named after. I’d never really been curious about anyone. Didn’t care to. But I wanted to know how Jasper came to be the way he was. Why he lived without ties to anyone. Why he killed for money. He couldn’t have always been like this.
I watched him stride over to the plane, his arm reaching up then his fingers running along the edge of the wing. It was a caress, soft and gentle like he was stroking the curve of a woman’s side. I stared, my pulse spiking, imagining it was me he was caressing.
His hand smacked the metal and I jolted.
A machine. Nothing that could love him back. Something he could easily destroy if he needed to. No attachment.
And it could be argued that I had no attachments either, but I had my reasons. The question was . . . what were Jasper’s?
I heard the roar of another bike and glanced at Jasper who was now in front of the plane checking the rusted propeller. I quickly flipped open the saddlebag and took out my blades, one in each hand. I backed toward Fiona, keeping my eyes on the direction of the sound of the bike. Had those men followed us? No, there would be two bikes or a car.
I kept backing up until I bumped into something hard—Jasper. His hands slid down my arms to cover my hands on the blades at my sides. “Planning on cutting up my plane, sunshine?”
I nodded to the tree-covered area where we had come from. “Someone’s coming.”
I shuddered when his breath drifted across the lobe of my ear. “Damien. And I’d advise not fucking with him. He’s still pissed off at the female race.”
Damien and Xamien were brothers and nothing alike. Damien’s nickname was ‘women hater,’ he was impatient and volatile and had one hell of an attitude. He lived as a Solitary in Florida and used to be called into assist a Talde when needed. That changed. Now, he hunted a girl—Abby.
Damien hopped off his bike, not a cruising bike like Jasper’s, but a red racing bike, and strode toward us.
Jasper leaned into me. “Feel free to use ‘yes, sir.’”
I jabbed my elbow back into his abdomen and hit solid mass. He’d been ready for it.
Damien stopped in front of us, legs braced, arms crossed and not a sliver of the man I’d encountered a number of months ago. His eyes were like looking into muddy water, unable to see what was beneath the surface. Damien looked as I had at one time . . . void of emotion. Living and breathing, but only in the mechanical sense.
There was no hand shake, slap on the back, how are you, formalities between the men. Right to the point.
Jasper threw him his keys. “If we’re lucky, they’ll follow you,” Jasper said. “I suggest going South. You have a chick to ride on the back?”
Damien nodded. “Yeah. Down the road. Anything else?”
Jasper shrugged. “Run by Adrian’s and see how he’s doing?”
“Fuck you,” Damien muttered then shook his head. I was wondering what the big deal was when he said, “I’m not falling for that again. Fuckin’ bullet hurt like hell.”
Jasper chuckled then gestured with a head tilt toward me. “She shot me in the thigh.”
Damien’s brows lifted. “Did you not get her off after you fucked her?”
I snorted. “Jesus, I’m standing right here.”
Jasper, whose hands still rested on top of mine that held my blades, tightened. “Don’t worry sunshine. I’d never do that to you. My women come first—literally.”
This time, I slammed my heel onto the bridge of his foot.
He grunted then let me go, but I heard the subtle chuckle follow me. “Luckily, she’s a Healer. Unluckily, she has an attitude.” I pulled away from him and turned my back, pretending to admire the rust bucket Fiona while I listened to their conversation. “Any leads on Abby?”
“No,” Damien said.
“You look into what I asked?”
“Yeah. Sounds like it might be him and if it is . . . more than you can deal with.” Were they talking about Abby or me? “Might want to . . . end this. Odds aren’t in your favor on this one.”
Silence.
I looked over my shoulder at them. Jasper had his head down, arms crossed and back stiff. Damien stood braced, arms at his sides and was looking at me with his shadowy eyes.
“No,” Jasper said.
Damien’s gaze jerked back to Jasper. “You invested?”
“You know me better than that. Just don’t like losing.”
Damien looked at me again and his penetrating gaze hesitated on my arms—my scars. I shifted uneasily and rubbed my arms, not liking how intensely he was staring at me.
“Don’t let her fool you. They’re all cruel bitches,” Damien said and then turned on his heel and strode to Jasper’s bike. He unhooked the saddlebag and tossed it toward us.
What the hell did he mean by that?
“Come on, sunshine. Let’s get Fiona in the air.” Jasper tapped the wing with his fist twice then grabbed his bag.
The roar of the bike started and I watched as Damien disappeared behind the cover of the trees. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
I wasn’t so sure about whether Fiona would go anywhere. Did he know what he was doing? It wasn’t like I was scared of flying or dying, but my choice of deaths wouldn’t be a fiery spinning nose dive into the ground.
“Angel. Ass. Here. Now.”
Jasper was already at the top of the stairs.
I climbed up, following him into the cockpit and squished between the seats. I sat in the seat beside him and fastened my seatbelt. He flicked switches then placed a headset on and began speaking to someone.
The engine spurted and the propellers groaned a few times before they suddenly spun. Jasper grinned. “That’s it, baby.” Slowly the plane jerked forward and I watched the propellers out the side window spinning. I was surprised I didn’t see the rust flicking off into the air.
Jasper put his hand on my thigh and I looked at him. He wore a cocky grin and his eyes twinkled as if he knew something I didn’t. “Not going to ask for my qualifications?”
I shrugged. I suspected Jasper wouldn’t do something as stupid as fly a Cessna without being damn good at it. Actually, Jasper seemed the type to be damn good at everything he put his mind to—including, h
e claimed, sex.
Jasper chuckled shaking his head. “Think I’m going to like hearing you scream and writhe beneath me.” I stiffened, wondering if he’d read my thoughts. But that was impossible. I’d feel it and my shields around my mind were intact. “Tilting your world on its axis with my cock inside you . . . seeing your eyes fill with desire. Angel, that fake blasé attitude won’t be touching you when I’m inside.”
I crossed my arms, more to keep my heart from leaping through my ribcage than anything else. Just the thought of Jasper inside me was catapulting me through a maze of emotions.
The plane started down the grass field and my emotions were taking flight at the same time as I watched Jasper easily maneuver the plane into the air at a steep angle.
He looked completely at ease, his face relaxed, muscles flexed, but not with tension. No, Jasper exuded so much confidence in his stature I didn’t think he was capable of vulnerability.
Waleron had that same confidence, sure of himself, fearless and stoic, yet he carried it differently. The Taldeburu had a stern intensity about him. I’d experienced it intimately when I’d placed my hands on him to try and calm his Ink. The unyielding power that lay beneath his skin was a powerful turmoil, swirling like an out-of-control hurricane ready to sweep up anyone in its path.
But Jasper, he was different. I had trouble reading him. He had no morals. What did that mean? How far would he go to get what he wanted? Did he kill innocent people? Would he betray a Scar? On the outside, Jasper was arrogant and self-assured with an unbending no-bullshit attitude. But I was yearning to know what was beneath.
What made him an assassin? What made him this way? Because we were all a product of our past; it was just how we lived with what we experienced that shaped us into who we became.
I glanced over at him as he spoke to someone over his headset—and it wasn’t in English. He scowled then said a few sharp words before his hands tightened around the controls. He suddenly moved his mouthpiece away and looked at me.
The heat in my cheeks came to life at being caught staring at him.
He threw off his headset. “See something you like?”
I’d spent years keeping quiet, and I’d learned to appreciate it. The less said the better, but with Jasper, I was having trouble keeping my mouth shut. He pushed my buttons and I wanted to push his back.
