Sweet Temptation (6 page)

Father smacks his knee in astonishment. “A sixteen-year-old Neph virgin! How do you expect to be a bad influence on humans if you aren't behaving badly yourself?”

Anna says nothing, but her eyes dart around nervously. I'm still gaping in shock at the revelation. Father informs her she's the daughter of the Duke of Substance Abuse, and I am so floored, so gobsmacked by her innocence, that blood rushes inside my ears and I can hardly concentrate.

She was never out to kill me or test my loyalty. My God, she was truly drugged by that human boy! And probably was telling the truth about never having been kissed. How is this possible? It's just my luck that I'd stumble upon her. If I'd known, I could have urged her to move far away from Father and other Dukes, but I was consumed by my own paranoid assumptions. I mean, really, what are the bloody chances?

Oh, fantastic. Now Father is pulling out his bag of recreational drugs, and Anna is practically shivering and drooling as she looks at it all. I want to warn Father that Anna and drugs are not a pretty combination, but I clamp my mouth shut.

I can't let myself feel bad for her. Father knows about her now, so she's no longer my problem. It's too late for “should haves.” Anna will have to work now like the rest of us. It's her legacy to push drugs and alcohol. As a Neph, she has to be a “bad girl” by society's standards in every way but still recognize when to be seemingly docile to stay out of trouble. Her ability to tempt others will be wrapped up in a blend of her sensuality, tolerance for substances, and a personality that makes her sin appear fun and harmless. Neph learn from an early age that sex, drugs, and alcohol go hand in hand. It's what's expected by the Dukes, so Anna cannot remain a virgin. She'll learn and she'll be fine. She will grow to enjoy it.

I will
not
feel bad.

My head snaps up when I hear Father say my name. He's still talking to Anna.

“Kaidan will take good care of you. He'll have you working to the best of your abilities in no time at all. Don't take too long about it, though. Learn what you need to, and get to work.” He turns to me and I stand straighter. “I'm expecting company this evening and you are to join us. Marissa is bringing one of her nieces.”

Acid rises in my throat. “Yes, Father.”

Anna is staring at me with curiosity, and I have to look away.

My mind is whirling when I return home from taking Anna to her apartment. So much has happened in the span of a few short hours. I can't believe she's lived with an adoptive mother all these years, a woman named Patti who loves her fiercely—even
I
took to the woman straightaway. And I can't believe what I've agreed to. I've gone completely mad, but the thrill of it is all-consuming.

Her words tumble through my mind as I let myself in the front door of my house.

“What will happen if I don't, you know, do all the stuff your father told me to? Because I'm not going to . . .” “I want to wait until I'm married . . .” “My mother was an angel . . . A guardian angel . . .” “What does it mean to be Nephilim?”

The girl is half angel, half demon. An anomaly. I'd laughed and told her she's a walking contradiction, but truly I'm mesmerized. I keep wondering what it must be like to
be both. It's unheard of. And to be raised and nurtured by a human . . . wow.

And though it's all fascinating, her stubbornness against changing her ways cannot possibly last. Now that Father knows about her, she belongs to the Dukes—at least her body does. And they expect her to use her body for their purposes. Tomorrow morning I'll be up bright and early to begin teaching her the ways of the Neph—

My thoughts are interrupted when I pass the sitting room. I stop dead in my tracks, shocked at myself for forgetting. Father is standing beside the leather sofa, where Marissa sits with a small girl at her side. The girl I've been dreading.

Fuuuuuuuck.

No, no, no. I want to scream and rail. This cannot be happening.

She is just as young as the pictures.

“Come in, Kaidan,” Father says.

I do as he says, and I see Marissa put a hand on the girl's leg when she whimpers. I can't bring myself to look the child in the eyes.

“Kaidan, this is Marissa's newest niece, Viktoria. We were hoping you could help ease her into her new life.” His words are so casual. I've heard them a thousand times. Though I've never liked this aspect of my “job,” I've never been repulsed like this.

I grab the back of my neck, trying to steady myself.

“She doesn't speak English,” Marissa says. “But some things are universal, yes?” She and Father share a smile. “She is to remain a virgin, of course.”

I allow my gaze to flicker to the girl, whose eyes are red-rimmed. Her light hair is pulled into loose pigtails. Her feet dangle, not touching the floor, in worn Mary-Jane-style shoes. I step back, causing Father's eyes to glow like a stoplight. Marissa and the girl do not have the ability to see his eyes redden, and I wish I didn't either.

“Is there a problem?” he asks through clenched teeth.

The answer should be “No, sir.” I could try to force myself. I could try to think of someone else. Anna's face flashes through my mind's eye. She would cry if she saw this. I look at the little girl's feet again, and I can't. I just bloody can't.

“Kaidan,” Father whispers, and that one word is laden with warning.

I dare to lift my eyes to his and open my mouth to speak the words. “I will do anything you ask of me that's in my physical power, Father. You know that. But I cannot force my body to react to a child. It's just . . . not my thing.” I grab the back of my neck again as he stares at me. I've never defied him.

“Shall I get you a Viagra?” he asks. I nearly scoff. Oh, yes, that's just what I need. Artificial lust. Marissa cackles in mirth at his cruel teasing.

“Anything but this,” I whisper.

“Are you morally against it?” He edges toward me, fire in his eyes. “Do you think the services Marissa is providing to hardworking clients are beneath you?”

“Of course not,” I lie.

“Are you like the other prudes in society who think their brand of lust is the only acceptable one?” He is right in my face now, and my heart is racing.

“No, sir. Lust is lust.”

“Then what is the problem?”
he shouts, and spittle forms at the edges of his mouth.

Marissa is grinning, and the girl Viktoria begins to cry. Marissa pulls a fucking sweet from her purse and gives it to the child, crooning, “There, there.”

Father continues his tirade. “Did you not tell me you can feel lust for anyone?”

Shite. I should have never told him that.

“Not anyone, sir. Only those who lust for me first.”

Yeah, nasty little fact about me. Anyone, and I mean
anyone
who blazes a red aura for me . . . I will find something to fancy about them as well. Sexy ankles, full lips, shiny hair, you name it. It's as if my body is hardwired to do my job with no excuses. But this child has a few years before she'll know what lust is.

Father huffs through his nose, nostrils flaring. This is it. This is where he'll give me an ultimatum. Take the girl to my room this instant or dig myself a nice burial hole somewhere out in the woods. I can't believe it's come to this.

Marissa stands and saunters over, placing a hand on Father's shoulder.

“Darling, let him be.” She pushes herself in so she's sandwiched between us, her arse against Father and her heavy chest against mine. Father growls and takes her hips as she runs her hands over my shoulders and down my arms. Her aura goes red as she stares up at me with bloodred lips and black-lined eyes. My stupid body reacts.

Marissa laughs and rubs against me. “He can't help it if he prefers grown women.”

I hate her.

“I will train the girl myself, luv,” Father says against her ear.

I hate him, as well.

Father snaps his fingers twice in the air and shouts, “Raul!” In a moment the driver stands in the doorway. “Ready the car for Marissa.”

“Yes, sir.” The driver bows his head and hurries off.

Father glares at me and then flicks his hand to tell me to get out of his sight. As I turn to go I glimpse the girl with the sweet in her cheek and the sad eyes.

I hate my life.

“Come and take a walk on the wild side . . .

'Cause you and I, we were born to die.”

—“Born to Die” by Lana Del Rey

A
fter the events of last night, I need to focus on protecting myself and staying alive. Nevertheless, here I am, humoring this girl who refuses to do what's best for her. Driving her across the country to meet her demon father for the first time.

Yeah, there's no part of this arrangement that's smart, is there?

Patti, although she seemed to loathe the idea of Anna meeting Belial, thinks he will somehow be able to help and protect Anna. When Patti adopted Anna, she was told by the orphanage to find Belial and return to speak with a nun named Sister Ruth when Anna got older. There's more to this story than I can guess, and I'm too damned curious to walk away
now. Plus, I feel a foreign sense of obligation for her. I could have offered to fly us—I certainly have the funds—but a road trip will allow me more time to figure her out. Alone.

I turn up the stereo, but my thoughts are louder.

It's like Anna's a stray I stumbled upon, and she'll be crushed by a damn car if I let her out of my sight. I've never met anyone so filled with bloody goodness. She practically glows. When I'm with her I feel . . . different. Lighter or some shit.

I glance over at this girl, this naive Neph, void of ego, and I shake my head. We drive with the music blaring. I expected my playlist to be too hard-core for her, but she seems perfectly content, even humming along with some of the songs. When “Sex and Candy” by Marcy Playground comes on I see her listening intently. She meets my eye at the chorus, a splotchy blush running up her neck, before she quickly turns to stare out her window. I look forward again and grin, keeping an eye on the skies for evil whispering spirits.

Although the landscape is boring, she stares out the windows like she's never seen anything so beautiful. As if she's on some incredible adventure with me. She's clueless about the dangers. Even after I've told her, straight up, that she can't fuck about with the Dukes. They are ruthless, evil bastards and they will kill her. She acts as if she's safe with me. As if I can protect her from them.

That causes some idiotic thing inside my chest to swell and strengthen.

I think Anna Whitt is bad for my health.

The thing is, as adorable as her innocence might be on the surface, it would be foolish of me to allow her to stay that
way. She's not open to being trained, other than a mention of wanting to learn how to hide her colors. She refuses to see the necessity of losing her virginity, or at least
pretending
not to be so good. It's only a matter of time before the Dukes start sniffing around, but she just doesn't get it. She has no self-preservation instinct. I have to help her out.

But I have to be smooth about it. I have to win her over. For both our sakes, I need to shag her like mad by the end of this road trip.

Anna will be my toughest conquest yet. From what I've seen so far, she's the queen of self-control. A nun in training or some shite.

There's only one way to get a girl like Anna into bed before marriage, and I'm not looking forward to the amount of work it will require. She's not the kind of girl who goes for the bad boy, so I must be on my best behavior. But in order for her to appreciate my best behavior, she needs to think she's causing some positive change in me. I'll need to make her think I'm letting her into the deep, dark places of myself. Essentially, I have to make Anna fall in love with me and believe I'm in love with her, as well.

A twinge of guilt fills my bowels, but it's fleeting, gone before my next breath. It must be done. Eventually she'll thank me.

Day one goes well, I think. And I manage to get her to agree on a single room at the motel instead of separate ones. She's into me. Drawn against her will. And I gladly take advantage of it.

I get comfortable on my bed, enjoying the way she stares at me when she doesn't think I'm paying attention, and how easy it is to make her nervous when I play with my blade.

After some uncomfortable chitchat, in which I talk about my childhood and Father's horrible parenting—all true—I proceed to make her jealous with the texts I'm receiving from other girls, which is adorable. So far she's playing directly into my hand, but her questions and need for knowledge eventually sidetrack my efforts. She seems fascinated that I'm always using my supernatural abilities. Her hatred of her Neph senses is baffling. She needs to be proud of her heritage, to understand the benefit of her extended senses. I go over and sit next to where she's lying on her bed, and she gets skittish, trying to scoot away.

“No, stay lying down,” I say, touching her arm. “I want to show you something.”

I want to show her a lot of things, and I daresay she knows this by now. She narrows those little brown eyes at me, and I have to laugh.

“Calm down, luv.” I find that I say “luv” a lot more since I moved to the States. American girls go crazy for it. Not sure it's working on Anna yet, but it's worth a try.

“What are you going to do?” Her sweet voice and light Southern accent go straight to my crotch, and I'm glad she's at an angle where she can't see.

“Nothing that will compromise your virtue and have Patti hunting me down. Now close your eyes.” I'd promised Patti I'd bring Anna home safely, with her virtue intact. I plan to keep only the first part of that promise, even though I quite like
Patti. What neither of them realize is that Anna's virtue is the very thing that will put her in danger.

What I'm planning is a simple exercise to build her trust, to show her I'm more than a sex fiend. I want her to see that her senses can be pleasant. And maybe I want to touch her, just a small bit.

At first I don't think she's going to play along. Then she lets out a huff and lies back.

Good girl.

But God, she's stiff as a board.

“Now, I want you to relax and concentrate on your sense of touch. I'll be a good boy. I promise.”

I
am
planning to be good.

I watch as she exhales and relaxes. I can imagine the tingling she feels as she opens her nerve endings to full exposure. And I remember something cool that my Neph friend Marna once showed me when we were younger. Without touching any other part of her, I press my fingertip into the palm of her nearest hand.

I smile when she gasps. “I can sense your fingerprint!”

Wicked. Wait until she feels what's next. I scoot down and take her foot into my hand. I watch Anna's face soften with bliss as I knead and press my fingers against her sole. Then I move up to her ankle, and suddenly her eyes pop open as she wrenches her knees to her chest.

What'd I do?

“Wait,” she says. “Not my legs. They're . . .”

What is she going on about? “They're lovely.” In fact, they're killer.

“No, please. I didn't have time to shave this morning.”

I throw my head back and laugh. Call me sick and twisted, but it takes a hell of a lot more than a little hair to bother me. Her paranoia is adorable, though.

“All right, fine, no legs. But you're missing out. I'm not through with you. Roll onto your stomach and relax again.”

She obeys immediately, and I'm so relaxed I forget to mentally prepare myself for the sight of . . .

“Mmm.” I don't mean to moan. It just sort of slips out. But her arse . . . blimey, it's fucking perfect. I bite down hard on my knuckle.

“What?” she mutters into the pillow.

“Oh, nothing.” Except I can't think straight. “It's just that you've got quite a nice little—”

Damn, she moves quick. She's glaring sharply and I hold up my hands. Little Ann can be feisty when she wants.

“Sorry! A guy can't help but notice. Truly—best behavior—starting now.” I want her to hurry and lie back down so I can stare at that arse again. This is far too fun.

She rolls back over, slowly and warily, and then—hello, perfect bum. Would it be okay if I touch it? Just once?

No. This is Anna Whitt. It would decidedly not be okay to touch the bum. I recognize that my self-control is unwinding bit by bit. I'm unaccustomed to looking and not touching. Sampling and not devouring. This moment is pushing my limits. I must stay calm, moving us to the next level. My voice comes out low and husky when I talk.

“I need you to trust me and stay relaxed. I'm just going to raise your shirt a bit so I can get to your back.”

Is she buying this? She doesn't move, so I take that as permission to gently pull her shirt upward and expose her soft, creamy back. My breathing goes a bit wonky. Angel girl is letting me see her skin. She's going to let me touch her. She's trusting me.

My fingers sink into the soft skin and muscle on her lower back, working slow circles.

Holy Mary, I'm all but panting. Get it together, Rowe! This is the least sexual thing I've done in ages, and it's turning me on more than a bloody van full of naked girls.

I run my fingers across her back until she's covered in goose flesh. She is reacting to me, and I need to touch her with more than just my fingers. My hands press down, massaging harder, gripping her waist in my hands. I need more.

I try to shake the rising fog from my head, but it's no use. My own sense of touch begins to open itself, my skin buzzing with neediness. She feels like silk.

I need more.

My hands go farther, past her satin bra, up to her shoulders. I might rip her shirt, and I don't bloody care. I am nearly beyond thinking. Her pheromones and red aura encircle me, grip me.

I am need.

I am greed.

And I take what I want.

Her skin calls to me, and I'm above her, moving her hair aside and breathing in the warmth of her neck. I have to taste her or I think I will die—implode—explode—something terrible will happen.

I home in on the spot under her ear, and my desperate lips
finally touch her . . . this is my heaven. Her neck is heated, and she lifts her chin, allowing me to kiss further. Her body slightly twists, angling toward me. I open my mouth, dragging my tongue along the silk and salt and sweetness of her. Up to her jaw. And then she's turning, her hands are in my hair, and she's leading my mouth to hers.

I am overwhelmed by this kiss. She must be using angel voodoo on me because I can't think. I can't. I'm trying, but all I can feel is her lips. I'm more lost to the world than I've ever been. I want to let go and never come back. Lose myself in her for eternity.

I need more. I need all of her. Her stomach is so smooth. The satin of her bra is filled with a mouthful of flesh that's sure to be the most succulent—

Abruptly, Anna shoves me away and I feel as if I've been doused by fire.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Bloody hell, my heart is pounding like an amateur's. I cannot let her know how freaked out I am.

She's panting. “You promised to be on your best behavior.” Her aura is a mix of grays and red. I'm suddenly furious we're not still kissing. Why would anyone put a halt to such epicness?

“
You
kissed
me
, Anna,” I remind her.

“Well,
you
started it by kissing my neck.”

Mmm, her neck. It'd been so warm and inviting. “True. I hadn't planned that.”

She paces the room, attempting to fix her hair, but she's too angry and lustful. She's shaking.

“Why did you stop?” I ask.

“Because you were moving on to other things.”

What other things? Oh . . . I suppose my hand did wander a bit, didn't it? “Hmm, moved too quickly. Rookie mistake.”

Judging by the way she crosses her arms, it probably would have been best to keep that thought inside my head. I'm still not quite thinking straight. Why is she having this effect on me? And for the love of all things holy,
why aren't we still snogging?

It was slightly amusing at first when she stopped us, but now that I know she's serious, I'm starting to feel a rise of panic. My body has not and will not shut off or calm down. This could get ugly.

“I can see you still want me,” I say. It's true. She's only being stubborn. Is this some kind of cruel angel punishment? Now she wants to be pissed off instead of lustful? “Oh. There it goes. Mad instead. Well, sort of. You can't seem to muster a really good anger—”

“Stop it!”

“Sorry, was I saying that out loud?” She really hates when I read her colors, so I do it as often as possible. And right now it's better to be cheeky than to let her know I'm frantic on the inside. My demand for relief is growing.

“I can read people, too, you know.” Here she goes again with the feistiness. “Well, not you, but at least I have the decency not to notice, to give them some sort of emotional privacy.”