Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin 1)

She began to meet his tongue thrust for thrust, asserting more pressure. Her panting breaths mingled with his, and he liked that almost as much as the kiss. He was taking of her, and she was taking of him, and they were becoming one, even in so small a way.

He wanted to touch her.

He had to touch her, all of her, soon, soon, soon, and he would. There would be no part of her he ignored.

But even that wouldn’t be enough. That would never be enough—nothing would. If he touched her, he would take her. And he couldn’t allow himself to take her on a bloodstained floor. Not today, and not tomorrow. Not for their first time. Not with Jecis’s trailer beside his cage. Not until she was ready, until regret would no longer be an issue.

And if he didn’t stop now, he never would.

Solo rolled back, sitting several inches out of reach. Surely the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Vika sat up, her fingers going straight to her mouth. Did her lips throb as deliciously as his?

“No more for today,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended.

Her fingers lowered, and the pink tip of her tongue emerged, as if she wanted to capture more of his taste. “I like doing that with you.”

Killing him. He stood, strode to the supplies. “Drink this,” he said, and tossed her a bottle of water. “You need to stay hydrated.”

She missed by miles, and had to lean over to fetch the bottle from where it had rolled.

“How did you know what I was planning to do during training?” he asked to distract himself.

She struggled with the lid as she said, “You ignored me, but I’m supposed to answer you?”

“Yes.”

She laughed, and it was a beautiful though rusty sound, and when she blinked in amazement he knew she had not had cause to laugh in a very long time. “Very well, then. I will reward your honesty.” She drank half the bottle, and motioned for him to take the rest. “The knowing you told me about. When I got quiet inside my head, I could sense the changes in your body just before you leapt into action.”

“Good.” She needed every advantage she could get. “Use that knowledge, no matter how big your opponent is.”

A reluctant nod greeted his words. “Who taught you those skills?”

“A friend.”

“John or Blue?”

“Neither. Michael. John and Blue trained with me.”

“Are they like you?”

He knew what she meant. “They are otherworlders, but not the same species.” This topic usually propelled him into a rage. No one knew about the Allorians, and because they didn’t know, and he refused to say, they invented names for his race. But Vika meant no insult, and he knew that, too. “I’m Allorian.”

A curious glitter in those velvety plum eyes. “Have you ever been there?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Well, you’re definitely one of a kind. And I mean that in the best possible way, of course.”

“I know you do.” He shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly uncomfortable. All his life, he’d wanted someone other than his parents to like him for who he was. To admire him. And now, his pretty little human was doing just that, and he was unsure what to say or how to react. “Will you use what you learned today?”

“I hope I won’t have to, but yes. If anyone comes at me, I’ll leap on them like a wounded wolverine with a blood-cream fetish.”

He tried to hold back his chuckle, but failed.

Vika’s expression softened. “I love seeing you like this. So . . . relaxed. And I want to know more about you,” she said. “I want to know everything.”

And he wanted to give her whatever she desired. As he scanned the crackling fires, the hills with their dead and gnarled trees, he said, “I told you I own a farm. I actually grew up there. My parents were human and adopted me.”

“Ah. So that’s why you thought they were being paid to take care of you. I assumed it was an alien custom.”

He knew very little about the Allorians. Only what X had told him. They were a peaceful race, very loving. Very joyous. Everyone had a helpmate, like X, until they were strong enough to take care of themselves.

Perhaps that was why Michael had paired him with the Judahs. They fit so well with his ancestors.

The couple had more than adored Solo. They had more than adored each other, too, and deep down he’d always wanted what they’d had—what he’d believed he could never hope to have.

“I still can’t imagine you tending the land,” Vika said.

“I did more than tend the land. I raised the animals. Not the clones all the farmers raise today, but the real thing. Pigs, sheep, goats, chickens, cows. We refused to sell them,” something that would have made his parents millionaires, “because we hoped to help with repopulation.”

He still refused to sell. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about them while he was gone. Always before a meeting with Michael, he hired a team to see to their every need.

“You were blessed.”

Very much so. And he yearned for her to experience the same. “I want another vow from you, Vika.” You shouldn’t do this. You know better. She could accidentally give the information to her father. Still, he said, “If ever we’re separated, I want you to go to the farm.” He gave her the address. “Memorize it.”

A huge smile bloomed, only to fall into a frown of devastation. “Why would you welcome me there?”

Why the change in her? “Maybe I could use a housekeeper.” He would rather pamper her than watch her do chores, but those kinds of details could be worked out later. First, he had to get her there—an idea he liked more with every second that passed.

“I—” Paling, she rubbed at her throat. “How long would you want me there?”

“I don’t know.” Right now, he couldn’t imagine not wanting her there. In his bed, morning and night, her pale hair spread over his pillow, her slight body snuggled under his covers. Her mint and jasmine scent would permeate the air. He would be able to protect her at all hours of the day and night, to empower her so that she would bloom as she had during their training session, watching the sparkle light up her eyes and the flush darken her cheeks.

“What would happen when you tired of me? Where would I go?” She shook her head, adamant. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t rely on your offer. I’m sorry,” she repeated. “If necessary, I’ll get a job somewhere else. I’m highly skilled.”