Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel) (17 page)

“No,” I said, a little more forcefully than I’d
intended.

Sam stopped mid-movement and looked at me with eyes wide once more.

I smiled half-heartedly at him and tried to reassure his worried expression. “Could you just stay there,” I said a lot more softly than before. “I’m good for the moment, but I don’t want to push it, okay? I’m just not sure what will happen if you touch me again right now.” I looked away from Sam as he dropped back into the seated position he’d started in and I stared at the dark, granite wall covering the inner part of the bell tower. “I just don’t want to run away,” I muttered under my breath.

“I
understand,” Sam said, quietly. “I’m sorry about before, I just didn’t think.”

Grinning at his apo
logy, I glanced back over at him and saw his reprimanded frown. “Don’t blame yourself,” I said, a little amused. “You did nothing wrong. I needed that hug. I just keep forgetting that the evil twin inside me isn’t too fond of you.” I glanced away from Sam and laughed, then wrapped my arms around my knees. “Which is sad,” I said, continuing. “Because I’m so fond of you.”

I bit my lip as soon as I
realized what I’d said and immediately turned my head in the opposite direction to Sam. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him and I could feel my face beginning to flush hot with embarrassment. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes tight, shaking my head at letting something so damaging slip. Sam cleared his throat from somewhere behind my shaking head and I tried hard to gather up some dignity.

“
You’re fond of me,” Sam repeated, his voice deeper and smoother than usual. “Then you should probably know that I’m very fond of you, too.” Suddenly, at my surprise, Sam chuckled to himself. “If it already wasn’t that obvious,” he said.

After a moment,
once I had gathered enough strength and courage to turn my head back around to face him, I was surprised by what I found. Sam wasn’t staring intensely at me as I had expected him to be, but was, instead, looking away from me. His eyes were focused straight ahead at the granite wall of the inner building of the bell tower. A huge grin had stretched itself firmly around the pearly whites of his teeth and he looked almost euphorically happy.

He tilted his head in my direction and must have noticed me in his peripheral vision, because the grin soon disappeared and was replaced by a cheeky smile.
“I guess,” he said, quietly. “You could say that we are both very fond of one another.”

In
an instant, his soul-capturing, violet eyes were searching into mine once more and my breath was taken away. The happiness on his face made my heart grew large and beat faster, threatening to explode. I felt suddenly happy, but as if I could cry. My insides swelled with sudden joy at the look in Sam’s eyes, yet they ached, desperate for more than just the sight of him. Hot blood filled my intricate veins and my muscles tensed and flinched to be closer to him. Warm tears started to fill my eyes, but all I could do was laugh. I was so completely, wholly and deliriously happy. And for the first time in my life, I believed that I could actually be in love.

Without another thought,
I stretched a hand out to Sam over the great divide between us and I took his hand in mine. I pulled his hand closer to me and as if interpreting and understanding my need, Sam knelt and followed his hand towards me. I knelt, too and was already pulling Sam’s arms behind me as I caught his perfectly soft lips with mine. I closed my eyes and melted against him, my mind becoming a mess of dizziness and contentment. I needed more of him around me, closer and tighter. I pulled on his shoulders, pushed on his back, trying to meld our bodies together. Sam’s tongue caressed mine and his teeth nipped my lower lip.

He turned me suddenly and my back was hard against the balcony wall. Sam’s hands found mine, my fingers entwined in his and then he raised them until they rested securely against the wall beside my head. His chest was pressed hard against mine
and the ache between my legs responded severely to the large, solid need between his. I moaned into his mouth and his hands left mine to explore my body. They clung to my waist and pressed tightly at my hips, grinding me harder against his groin. Then his fingertips crept upwards, caressing the bottom of my ribcage and creeping even higher. Light fingertips ran over the plump mounds of my breasts and a small cry left my throat and disappeared into his mouth.

All of a sudden something snapped in me and my eyes shot open.
The feeling, the fear was back again. My heart rate quickened and the liquid fire of adrenalin coursed through my veins telling me to choose: fight or flight. My fingers clasped into a fist before I could stop them and my lips left Sam’s just as my killer right hook hit him in the jaw.

Thirteen: Physical Skills

I was impressively, but regrettably amazed. There was no other description for it. I had never hit a person before, let alone a massive, muscular, soldier of a man like Sam. I still couldn’t comprehend how I’d done it. Yet, there he was lying on the floor just a
meter or so away from me with a swollen, bloodied lip and out cold to the world. Only seconds had passed since I’d clocked him one, but it had felt more like hours. I just couldn’t believe that I’d knocked him out. My hand didn’t even hurt.

I crawled over to him cautiously, in case it was all just a big act. I pretty much expected him to sit up at any minute and surprise me, then laugh his head off. But, as I moved closer and watched the lack of movement in his body, except the light rise and fall of his chest, I started to worry.

“Sam,” I whispered worriedly as I reached him. I touched him on the chest, but got no response. “Sam,” I said, a little more anxiously. “You better not be playing with me.” I pushed him on the arm and once again nothing happened.

Taking his right hand in mine, I lifted his arm a short way off the ground and then let it fall. It hit the ground with
an ungracefully, limp thump. The extent of what I’d done suddenly seemed to hit me and my heart raced at the fear of losing him. I swung a leg over him, straddling his waist and I grabbed hold of his shoulders and tried to shake him. “Sam,” I said, fear leaking into my voice. “Sam, wake up. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hit you. Sam!”

I let go of his shoulders and they slumped back to the ground. Hurriedly, I moved down his body a little bit and put my
ear to his chest. His heart thumped strongly along to its own beat and my own heart relaxed a little in relief. I sat up again, took his head in my hands and stared down at his boyishly handsome face. He looked so innocent, so serene. Only the blood and the slight swelling around the left side of his mouth and jaw gave away the pain of his injury.

“Sam,” I y
elled down at his sleeping face. “Wake up!” I could feel my eyes growing hot and damp with tears, but I refused to give in to them. “Sam, please,” I said, beginning to sound desperate. “Wake up. I need you.”

I laid my body down over the line of his and wrapped my arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling his head next t
o mine. I rubbed my cheek against his and put my lips near his ear. “I’m so sorry, Sam,” I whispered as a tear slid down my cheek and onto his. “Please come back to me. I love you.”

Sam’s body remained still. Only the rise and fall of his chest and his heart beating along with
mine proved to me that he was still alive. But I needed more than that. Alive was one thing, but alive and well was another. I needed to see him awake, to see that I hadn’t permanently injured him. I hugged him closer to me and closed my eyes tight, praying urgently to whatever rulers of fate or destiny existed to let him be okay. Moments passed and thick, black dread seemed to fill my insides. Then I felt something.

His cheek moved against mine
, but only slightly. I quickly sat back up and stared down at his face. “Sam,” I asked.

His head began to shake softly from side to side and then, with a slight flicker, his eyes opened. He blinked a couple of times and brought his hand to the bloodied side of his jaw. As he touched it lightly, his face
screwed up in pain and he jarred his head back. “Ouch,” he said as he moved his hand away. Then he looked up at me and his eyes connected with mine. He tried to form a small smile, but the swelling stopped him and he settled for giving me an understanding look with his eyes.

“I’m so sorry
,” I said, frowning down at him. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” I brushed my fingers over his forehead, wiping stray strands of golden fringe from his face and smiled half-heartedly. “I’ve never punched anyone before,” I said, still a little surprised and impressed by the extent of the damage done by my little fist.

Sam raised an eyebrow at me and didn’t seem to want to believe me
. He opened his mouth to try to say something, then with a flinch of pain across his face he stopped. For a moment he paused, as though gathering courage and preparing himself for the pain, and then he tried again. “Y—you quite sure of that?” he asked, clearly in agony and finding it a little hard to talk around the swelling.

I looked down at him apologetically, forcing all my regret into my expression, and nodded my head.
“First time,” I said and then held my fingers up in Girl Scout honor.

He tried to smile again and managed to be successful, even though the smile itself looked a little lo
psided because of the large, purplish bruise blooming on his chin. With another wince of pain, he made a move to sit up a bit and settled for resting his weight on his elbows. “Pretty impressive for your first time,” he said, “and yet I shouldn’t have expected less.”

For a moment my mind instinctively clicked onto another subject, another of which was a first time for me and I felt my cheeks redden slightly.
I looked away from Sam, trying to hide my thoughts and their result. Sam lifted a hand up and rested it against my cheek. I covered it with my own and brought my eyes back to his. 

“
I pushed it a bit, didn’t I,” he asked, and from his expression I understood that his meaning related to both issues running through my mind.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do,” I said,
smiling down at him. “But I don’t think I’m ready to try and control myself and my evil half at the same time.” I sighed and my smile fell to a frown. “Especially when I can’t even stop myself from hitting you,” I said.

As I said it, I remembered my hand again and dr
opped it from where it was covering his. I stared down at my knuckles. Turning my hand from side to side, I was still surprised that the punch hadn’t hurt me or left any marks or bruises. I looked back at Sam and turned my hand to show him my knuckles. “How is this possible,” I asked. “I’ve never hit anyone in my life, but I know that there are usually consequences for decking someone, like grazed knuckles or bruising. At the very least my hand should hurt, right?”

Sam removed his hand from where it rested against my cheek and he took my hand in his. He pulled it closer and then gently rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.
“I probably should have mentioned it earlier,” he began, then paused. He sat up a little more, so that his back was almost fully straightened and face was closer to mine.

At his movement, I wiggled backwards a little bit leavi
ng his waist and resting my bottom lightly on his thighs. His words made me wary and for some reason I almost dreaded the rest of the coming explanation.

Sam frowned at my movement, but held my hand firmly in his as I tried subtly to remove it.
“Kitty,” he began again softly. “I didn’t tell you this, because I never wanted you to have to fight.” He sighed at my confused expression and gathered his thoughts again. “Technically, you are not a fighter,” Sam continued. “But, the other half of you is.”

I still didn’t quite understand. How could I be a fighter when I wasn’t? I bit my lip and furrowed my eyebrows trying hard to understand.

Sam sat up that last inch and was now leaning over closer to me. “Although you and her are one and the same you were born for different destinies,” Sam said, then paused to let it sink in. “In every aspect that you are good, she is evil. Like every daughter of Lilith only one of these personalities will ultimately survive,” Sam continued. “And it is her personality, your opposite that is skilled in fighting. She holds all the power of Lilith’s blood inside you, which means that as well as fighting better, she can hit harder, move faster, heal quicker and even influence others.”

I took my eyes away from Sam’s for a moment and stared off into space. A memory flashed into my mind of the night Sam
had shot Max. I remembered how I had tried to get away from him, that I’d even kicked him in the shin and nothing had happened. It was like my strength, my normal strength was as weak as a kitten and her’s, the strength of my other half, was something worthy of a superhero. That just didn’t seem fair. The other half of me held all the power cards, while I pretty much had nothing to fight her with.

I caught Sam’s eyes again with my own and glared at him.
“So, I’m pretty much useless,” I said, as my personal defeat made my words tremble.