Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin) (26 page)

If Vika ever found out about his past . . . about his side job . . . she would no longer trust him on any level, and would not want him out of the cage. She would dump him into the same category of evil as her father and Matas.

She wouldn’t understand the difference between a necessary kill and a cold-blooded one. But then, she wouldn’t need to, he realized a second later. His kills hadn’t always been necessary. Sometimes he’d had to take out innocents to get to his targets—and those operations
had
been performed in cold blood.

Those were the jobs that had left a dark film of acid over his skin.

Those were also the jobs that had caused him to
question his line of work, to debate leaving the agency. And really, he would have left a long time ago, if not for John and Blue. They’d needed him.

“What are you doing?” Vika asked, ending the cold-shoulder treatment.

“Exercising. Getting oxygen to my brain.” And maybe it was working.

His thoughts suddenly jumped from a curved road to a straight one. So what if he reacted terribly whenever she was hurt? So what if he grew any more attached to her? So what if she wouldn’t be happy with his job situation? No other man had ever kissed her. No other man had ever held her. Solo had been the first. A sense of possessiveness rose up inside him, consuming him.

Solo would be the only.

He would have her, he decided, and his motions slowed. He would enjoy her for whatever time they had left in these lands. He would be her man, and she would be his woman.

His woman. Oh, how he liked the sound of that. He would work to make it so.
Whatever proved necessary.

With the decision, relief filled him, and inside, where instinct swirled, a sudden knowing bloomed. This was right. This was supposed to happen.

The revelation left him reeling. Used to be, he’d had a knowing each and every day, an internal knowledge that had nothing to do with an external voice. Truth had risen up inside him, urging him to do exactly what he needed to do to survive—and not just to survive, but to thrive. Go here. Don’t go here. Do this. Don’t do this.

But after too many promptings to do things he hadn’t really wanted to do—turn down a job, stay away from John or Blue for a certain length of time—he’d begun to rationalize. Maybe he had misunderstood, he’d told himself. Maybe he was missing it.

After he’d ignored one too many knowings, they’d just stopped rising, and he’d had only X to guide him. He’d convinced himself he was happier that way. But he hadn’t been happier. He’d ignored his companion, too, and had made stupid decisions, as evidenced by the explosion in Michael’s office. Well, no more. He wasn’t going to ignore another knowing. Not this time. This
was
right, and he would win Vika’s trust.

Before, he had scared her, had pushed for too much too fast. Solo would rather rot in this cage forever than frighten Vika in any way. He never wanted her to look at him as she looked at her father and Matas. He would go slowly this time, would ease her into every new experience.

And there was no better time to start. He straightened, his gaze locking on his beautiful Vika. Target acquired. Poor darling.

“What?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably. “Not that I’m speaking to you.”

Hadn’t ended the cold-shoulder treatment, after all. “I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“About our arrangement.” He looked her over, this fairy princess come to save the beast. Blond hair was tangled around a dirt-smudged face. Her hands nervously twisted the fabric of her shirt. He definitely had
some preliminary work to do. But . . . he didn’t mind. Was actually thrilled by it.

He wanted more than sex, he realized.

He wanted to soothe and comfort her, to talk to and laugh with her. He wanted . . . 
everything
. Her mind, her emotions, her thoughts, hopes and dreams. He wanted to learn about her, every little detail, and tell her about himself. He’d never before had that with a woman.

He wanted to know about the invisible man she’d mentioned. He’d wanted to question her right away but hadn’t let himself. That line of conversation would invite her to ask about X and Dr. E, and he wasn’t ready to confess. Did she have a protector, like him? Did she have a tormentor?

“Well,” she huffed, “there’s nothing you can ever say to make me speak to you again.”

His lips twitched with an amusement that was just as potent as his desire, astonishing him. “I’ll come up with something.”

“Want to bet?”

Oh, Vika. You are too adorable for words.

Now that he’d decided to have her, adorable was no longer such a terrible thing.

Solo considered his options. Exactly how was a man like him supposed to entice a female? What could he give her that she didn’t already have?

Well, he could think of one thing she’d probably never received. An apology. Determined, he closed the distance and sat directly in front of her. She refused to meet his gaze. He cupped her cheeks, paused to savor
the softness of her skin, then forced her attention on him.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said gruffly. “I
would
have wanted kisses from you. I still do. You’re a beautiful woman, and I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you, even though you were appointed my keeper.”

Her eyes grew larger with every word he uttered. “You wanted me, even though I’m—”

“As small as a twelve-year-old boy? Smart-mouthed? Yes, even though.”

Expression beseeching, she curled her fingers around his wrist. “Be serious. Even though I’m Jecis’s daughter?”

Right now, she wasn’t the zoo owner’s daughter. She was Solo’s woman, and nothing else. But just like the physical aspect of their relationship, she wasn’t ready for that kind of boldness or that intense of a possession. So he did the only thing he could. He ignored the question and changed the subject.

“Just so you know, I’ve won our bet. You’re definitely speaking to me.”

A moment passed. A soft smile brightened her face. “And
you’re
forgiven for earlier.”

“That easily?” Surely not. If she were anything like him, she would keep a checklist of his transgressions, whether he apologized or not. After three, she would wash her hands of him. But then, no one could maintain a relationship when they kept a checklist, could they? The record keeper was always too conscious of the bad to concentrate on the good.

“You look astounded and suspicious,” she said, that smile widening. She could not be a mere mortal; she just couldn’t be. “I’m not sure why. You used the most pleading tone when you apologized, practically dripping with sincerity. I’m just sure of it.”

He laughed with hearty amusement, carefree in a way he’d never been, even outside the cage. But the sound cut off abruptly the moment he realized what he was doing, and only the crackling of the fire and the buzzing of the insects could be heard. He’d set out to charm her, but she was the one charming him.

•   •   •

“I want to play a game,” Solo said a little while later. He’d taken a bit of time to try to fortify himself against Vika’s allure, because he’d known he couldn’t dazzle her if he was always being dazzled. He’d thought he was ready.

“And you always get what you want?” she replied, her nose going in the air.

He’d thought wrong. “Is this a fit?” he asked, fighting a grin. “This seems like a little-girl-princess fit.”

She gasped with mock outrage. “How dare you! I do not have little-girl-princess fits!”

Will not laugh again
. He sat across from her, a position he enjoyed. She was close enough to scent, close enough to touch, but just far enough away that he wasn’t tempted to dive on her—more than a few times. “Tell me. What do you do in your spare time?”

Her brow furrowed, her mock pique fading. “I don’t understand. What does that matter? What about the game?”

“We’re playing it right now.”

“Oh. And it is . . .”

“The question game.”

“Oh,” she repeated, still dazed and somewhat confused. “Well, what are the rules?”

“There’s only one. If I ask a question, you have to answer it.”

Understanding took hold, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well, good luck. I’m playing to win.”

“Me too.” And he planned to win more than the game.

“Toss out question number one, and listen to me dominate.”

He enjoyed seeing her like this. Excited. Perhaps even happy. “I already did.”

“What did—oh, yeah.” Toying with the ends of her hair, she said, “On the days I’m forced to remain in my trailer I count my money and plan my future. What about you?”

He had to force himself to stare at anything but her hands. Her beautiful hands. So gentle. So feminine. Capable of delivering the most undeniable pleasure, he was sure. “I farm.”

Her mouth formed a large O as her gaze swept over him. “You don’t look like a farmer.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t stare at her mouth, either. “And you’ve met so many of us?”

“Well, no.” She lifted to her knees, practically bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Did you notice how quickly I answered that? I’m winning, aren’t I?”

The muscles in his stomach clenched as he said, “You’re definitely losing, and I’m definitely winning.”

She frowned, and he had to fight another laugh. “How?” she demanded.

“The more questions you can get a person to answer, the more points you earn. I’ve asked more questions.”

Her eyes narrowed, two lasers locked on him. “Perhaps I misunderstood the rules.”

“That’s understandable. You’re foreign.”

“But perhaps I didn’t,” she added. “You can’t just change them whenever you want.”

“I can, too. I’m the game’s inventor.”

“And what’s the score, Mr. Inventor?”

“Fifteen to one,” he said, choosing a number that wasn’t so high she couldn’t catch up, but wasn’t so low she could best him. “But because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you ask me the next question. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He
tsk
ed with false pity. “Another two points for me. One because you answered an unnecessary question and another because you fell for my trick. Better luck next time.”

“You dirty little swindler,” she said with a choked gurgle of delight that caused the muscles in his stomach to once again clench up. She tapped a finger against her chin, brightened. “Oh, I know! Will you tell me about your farm?”

“Of course.”

“Got you,” she said in a singsong voice. “Another point for me.”

Really will not laugh.
“It’s situated miles from any other residence, and surrounded by rare clusters of trees.” Most forests had been burned to the ground
during the human-otherworlder war. “There’s a natural spring that’s filled with fish, and birds constantly fly overhead. There are multiple flower and vegetable gardens, and there’s a pesky rabbit that likes to ruin both. I’ve named him Dead Man Hopping.”

Expression glazed with awe, she said, “I’ve never heard of such a promised land and cannot even picture its like.”

Maybe one day he would take her there.

The idea registered, and he froze. He’d once thought about locking her there, but now . . . he knew he would do no such thing. He wanted to have her there, yes, but he wanted her there of her own free will, happy and smiling. And naked.

“Do you have any secret talents?” she asked, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He had
many
secret talents, but there was only one he could share without scaring ten years off her life. “I can wrangle a bull with my bare hands.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Got you! That’s four points for me, for using your own trick against you twice, and practically in a row,” she said with a smirk. “And before you can ask, I’ll just tell. My secret talent is a backbend kick-over.”

He . . . had no idea what that was. “One day, I’ll want to see that.”

In a snap, all of her enjoyment drained. Her sparkle died.

“What?” he demanded, unsure what he’d done wrong.

“Those words . . .” she muttered. “ ‘One day.’ I hate them.”

“Why?” They were so innocent.

She waved the question away. “What’s, uh, your favorite memory?”

He wanted her back the way she was, and decided not to push for the truth. Not yet. Instead, he leaned forward, placing his lips at the hollow of her neck. “I’ll tell you, but I have to whisper because it’s personal.”

She shivered, the motion brushing her skin against his mouth.

He moaned. So soft, so warm.

She gasped. “Tell me.”

“What if I said it was when I kissed you?” he rasped through a throat gone tight.

Her pulse quickened, and he leaned back to study her expression. Spots of color had darkened her cheeks. Color that spoke of arousal, not panic. Exactly what he’d hoped to see.

“Was it?” she asked, hand fluttering over her heart.

“Yes.” And that was the truth.

“I would say . . .” She nibbled on her bottom lip, and his blood hummed with exhilaration.

Steady
.

Another slow, luscious smile bloomed, lighting up her entire face. “I would say you owe me another point.”

A moment passed before her meaning sank in, and he nearly swallowed his own tongue. What a sneaky little vixen she was—a fact he liked. “What about you? What’s your favorite memory? And keep in mind, you’ll lose eight points if you refuse to answer.”

The nibbling started up again. “Do I get an extra point if my answer is the same as yours?”

Gonna kill me.
“You get thirty extra points,” he croaked.

“Well, good.” She was the one to lean forward this time, warm breath stroking over his neck. “Because it is.”

The arousal heated, becoming white-hot, consuming. “Vika—”

In the distance, he heard footsteps. Moans, groans.

He checked the sky, saw that the sun was in the process of setting. Cursing under his breath, he dragged Vika to the center of the cage.

Her arms flailed as she struggled to remain upright. “What are you—”

“Lie down.” The moment he had her on her back, he stretched out beside her.

“The monsters,” she gasped.