She blinked. "Now? We don't have time. We still have a few hours to look for Satan Jr."
"Now." He met her gaze. "At any minute, the Council will be here, and you're going to need to explain why you gave me the third drink from Mona. You have to go all in on your story if you have any chance."
She frowned. "I see your point, but we haven't solved the Curse yet—"
"Fuck the Curse." He rolled her over so he was on top of her. "You gave your soul for me, Justine. There's no way in hell I'm letting you go down."
She searched his face. "You want to make love to me in the last few hours of your life, instead of trying to save yourself? I don't understand."
He understood. He understood completely. It was because somewhere along the line, he'd fallen in love with this fierce, determined, amazing woman. He loved his brother, but Justine was different. She was the part of his soul that had always been missing. She was what he'd been searching for his whole life, not to break the Curse, but to find the woman meant to bring his soul to life.
Making love to her now was about saving her, but it was also about one final moment of connection with the woman he loved, before he forced her to kill him. But he couldn't say all that, in case anyone was listening. So, instead, he simply said, "Because making love before you kill me is the best way to protect your soul from the Chamber."
She frowned at him. "That's it? That's why you want to make love now?"
"That's not all of it, no." He paused, letting her work that out, and then he saw her face soften in wonder.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah." He let his breath out slowly and traced the tip of her nose, her cheekbones, the curve of her chin with his fingers. "How long do we have?"
Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were sparkling with emotion that made his soul turn over. "An hour until my Judgment. Two until the Curse strikes you."
Damn. He couldn't believe they were so close to the end. "So we have fifty-nine minutes to prove your case for saving your soul and getting your Treatise updated so your future is Chamber-free," he said. "The extra minute is for us to engage in a battle to the death before you go off to your Judgment." He met her gaze. "Because you do have to kill me in the end. You know that, right?"
Her face fell. "Derek—"
"No." He framed her face with his hands. "You have to kill me. You know that, right?"
"But—"
He kissed her protest away. "Justine, my love, there can't be any other way. I give my life for yours. It's how it must be."
Tears filled her eyes. "I don't want it to be that way."
"Sweetheart, I've lived more fully since I've met you than I did in my entire life before that. I spent my life being afraid to die, but really, I was afraid to live." He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the tears. "You taught me how to live, and that is the greatest gift I've ever gotten. Kill me, baby. Own it. Right now. Be the woman you need to be. Say yes, sweetheart. Just say yes."
Tears streamed in little rivulets down her cheeks. "Yes," she finally whispered.
Relief rushed through him. "Thank you."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Just so you know, I'll feel really bad when I kill you. Really, really, bad."
"I appreciate that." He flipped the covers off and then pulled her back on top of him. He anchored her hips against his, his legs tangling around hers. Hmm...he realized he could feel the roughness of her jeans on the bare skin of his legs, and he'd already noticed he was shirtless. "Am I naked?"
She laughed through her tears. "Yes. Theresa insisted."
He grinned as he slipped his hand under her T-shirt and palmed her lower back. Oh, God. The feel of her skin. So soft. So alive. So warm. "And you didn't argue? Try to protect my modesty?"
She pressed a feather-light kiss to his collarbone. "She's a fire breathing dragon. I didn't dare interfere, but I thought I'd better sleep in here with you to make sure she didn't take advantage of you while you were passed out."
"Mmm..." He cupped her shoulder blades, pressing his palms against her, drawing her upper body down to him.
"Well." He paused to nibble gently on her neck, then he pulled her T-shirt over her head, groaning when he slid his hands over her bare shoulders and across her bare stomach. "We need to have really intense, mind-blowing sex so you can prove you're a worthy Guardian when you try to get the Treatise revamped."
"You're sure?" Her hands pressed against his chest, her fingers tracing his nipples.
"Yeah. Life is short. Let's make it count." He kissed her breast through the fabric and felt her arch against him. "Want to trade battle scars?"
"I have none. They all heal quickly." Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she shifted under him. "You?"
"I had a hole in my gut."
"Yeah, that one might actually leave a mark." She slid her hands down his chest to his belly, her fingers caressing. "It's a little smooth still."
He grunted and closed his eyes. It felt so good to have her against him, under him, touching him. Her skin hot against his, her flesh real and alive under his touch.
Justine felt like her insides were going to spill over with heat, passion and other things she didn't want to put a name to. They had so little time. "Kiss me, Derek."
When his lips touched hers, it was as if someone had ripped her self-control from her body, replacing it with a burning heat that couldn't be restrained. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him up against her, kissing him desperately, deeply, shoving all the heat and passion within her into his soul.
His tongue dove into her mouth, and she met him, danced with him, embraced him as he invaded her body. She needed him, needed his breath in her lungs, needed his touch on her skin.
He broke the kiss, and she felt a rush of loss, of loneliness, until she felt his hands span her waist, his lips caress her belly. God, she was totally quivering under his touch. Was she that desperate for the touch of a man?
No, she was that desperate for Derek's touch.
It was only him who could satisfy the need that had flickered to life inside her. It was as if she'd kept it doused for two hundred years, and his kiss had ignited it again. It would never go out. It would burn forever, yearning for him.
No, that wasn't good. She couldn't yearn for anyone, especially not him. "Derek..."
His mouth closed over her right breast and she couldn't remember what she'd been planning to say. She was vaguely aware of him sliding her jeans down her legs, but the touch of his hands along her legs as he slipped them off, the feel of his teeth nibbling on her inner thigh, the heat of his breath on her skin...well...it was a little distracting.
A lot distracting. "Remember that love slave comment?" she whispered.
She felt the roughness of his whiskers against the soft skin of her inner thigh as he grinned. "I remember the love slave comment."
"If I kill you, then we might be able to arrange something," she whispered. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feel of his hands wrapped around her thighs, his lips caressing her. "Get you a portal to me or something."
He didn't answer.
She couldn't help her body from twisting under him, her legs from wrapping around him, skin to skin, the heat was building. God, she felt like she was on fire.
Derek traced his way back up her belly with his lips. "I feel like I'm burning up."
"Me too," she gasped. It was as if her blood was on boiling, melting through her arteries, setting her heart aflame.
"Must be your dark side," he said, his knee moving between hers as his hands glided over every inch of her body. Here, there, again, his lips. Too much, so much, sensation overwhelming.
"Next to the bed," she managed, her voice too raspy to be hers. "Theresa gave us three boxes of condoms."
Derek reached over and the sound of foil told him he'd found what the dragon had been so thoughtful as to provide. "Aren't we both immune to diseases?"
"You want another Satan Jr. running around?"
>
"It would actually be Satan III, and under certain circumstances, it wouldn't be a bad thing." He tore the foil and shifted his weight. His hands found her breasts again, his lips tugging at her nipples, and something exploded in her belly. Heat, fire, flames. Something hot. Something dark. "There aren't enough LaValle males in this world," he said as he rolled over, taking her with him. "Something needs to be done about it."
She straddled his hips, then eased herself slowly down. Sensation after sensation rippled through her, and she knew it was right. He was right. They were right. "You'd be willing to raise Satan's grandkids?"
"I won't have a child until the Curse is over." He grabbed her hips, moved with her, deeper, harder, until she was certain they were one. One body, one soul, one essence, one flame burning with deadly heat. He yanked her down on top of him, rolled again, until his weight was pressing her into the mattress, his strength against her, around her, inside her. "But if I ever get to that point, I choose you, even if that means having Satan as my kids' grandpa and hell in their genes."
He loved her.
There was no way a man would take on that kind of burden unless he loved her.
Tears filled her eyes again, and this time, it was good tears, the kind that came from the awakening of her soul, the embrace of that true, deep beautiful emotion called love, the one that was so scary, so terrifying, and so beautiful it was almost too much to handle. How can I kill this man?
And then he drove into her again, so hard, so deep, and she felt his soul explode into hers. She screamed and clutched his shoulder, his arms, she didn't know what. All she had was his flesh, his skin under her hands, against her, holding her to this earth, keeping her grounded even as he shuddered against her, shouted her name and held her so tight she thought they had melted into one.
Chapter Forty-Two
Derek hadn't even realized he dozed off after their third round of lovemaking until he felt the cold tip of a sword against his neck.
Justine was no longer in bed with him, which meant the odds were high that it was her blade that was flirting with his throat. "Derek."
He didn't open his eyes, didn't move, didn't tense. He gave no indication that he was awake. It would be easier this way for her, if she didn't have to look into his eyes.
"Derek." She poked him in the neck, and he had to work not to react. The mattress shifted under his hips, and he knew Justine was standing over him with a sword.
Excellent.
She was ready.
"I can't do this," she informed him.
Dammit. He opened his eyes. "You have to."
"I tried, but I can't." She looked so distraught that his heart softened.
"What if I insulted you?"
She shook her head. "I already know you're a good guy. It won't work."
"Self-defense?"
"You won't kill me." She sighed. "What are we going to do?"
He knew what they were going to do. He was going to push her to do what needed to happen. On the chance that this happened, he'd hoped Justine hadn't found his in-case-I-need-to-behead-a-Guardian insurance policy he'd stashed under the couch last week when Becca had surprised him while he'd been in the middle of practicing his skills.
Ironic, right? Thinking he needed to hide his sword from Becca. Waste of time, that had been.
Surreptitiously, he draped his hand over the edge of the sofa bed and slid his hand under the couch portion. He felt around until he found the handle. Sweet. He wrapped his fingers around it, then waited for his opportunity. "You're better than this, sweetheart."
She grimaced. "Derek—"
"I'm serious. You have this fantastic career, and you've worked for two hundred years to get the recognition you deserve. You're willing to throw it all away for a guy?"
She blinked. "But I love y—"
"I'll be in the Afterlife. We already know that I can visit from there. You're a fucking badass career woman, sweetheart. Don't be afraid to take that final step and behead me just because it's not how most people would show their love."
Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. "Seriously?"
"Damn straight, girl." He tightened his fingers around his sword. "True love honors your best self. If you abandon your career for me, that's not true love."
"Well, if you loved me, you wouldn’t sacrifice your brother and all your offspring for me!"
"Why not?"
"It's the same! You've spent your life fighting for those you love. If you sacrifice them for me, then our relationship has ruined that which you hold most dear! You'll resent me forever, we'll have no hope at a good relationship, and everything will suck!"
He considered that. "An eternity of resentment isn't a great foundation for a relationship," he admitted.
"If we really love each other, and I mean really love each other, there's only one choice."
Damn. "You're right. We have to kill each other to honor what we have."
"Yeah, we do."
He sighed.
She sighed.
"I wish we both sucked at relationships so badly that we could let each other live," he finally said.
"I know, right? Me, too."
Dammit. He could still feel her skin against his, hear her name on his breath as she fell asleep in his arms. This was not how it was supposed to end. "So, we just do it? Fight to the death to honor our love for each other?"
She looked crushed. "I guess that's the right thing to do."
He sighed. "Shall we get started, then? It needs to be before the Council shows up, right? That's soon, isn't it?"
"Yeah, about five minutes—"
A light knock sounded at the door and they both jumped. "The Council is here," Theresa called out. "They're waiting to escort you to the Judgment."
Shit.
Justine looked alarmed. "They're early."
"Can I fry the old one?" Theresa asked. "He keeps making snide remarks about how the Chamber of Unspeakable Horrors is all warmed up for you. He's really pissing me off."
"Tell her yes," Derek said softly. "Don't let them rule your life."
"They do rule my life," she replied. Then she raised her voice. "No. Leave them alone."
"Fine," Theresa said. There was a pause, then, "Derek's not worth your eternal soul, Justine. The Afterlife isn't such a bad place. He'll make new friends. He'll be okay... Hey!"
The doorknob rattled. "Justine, it's Quincy. Don't kill my brother."
Quin. Shit. He looked at Justine. "We need to do this now."
She nodded. "Okay." She shifted her weight and pulled the blade back for a backswing.
Instantly, he rolled off the bed, snatched his sword, and blocked her swing with his blade. Two more swipes later, and they were at a stalemate, each with a blade to the other's neck. "Honestly," he said, "The fact that you're naked is making it difficult for me to concentrate on killing you."
"Right!? You're so freaking muscular when you wave that sword around." Her gaze flicked toward his waist. "I see you're ready to go again."
"Always with you, sweetheart. Don't cut it off, though."
"Never. I wouldn't dream of it." She cocked her head. "You know, it's slightly curved, not crooked."
"What's going on in there?" Theresa asked. "Are you guys chatting? Just kill him, for heaven's sake."
"Why are you so bloodthirsty?" Quincy asked.
"I'm a dragon. It's my nature," she snapped. "Want me to prove it?"
"You fry me and I'll behead you. Derek's not the only one who's good with a sword. Besides, I have to talk to Derek. I found something out about the Curse." He pounded on the door. "Derek! Let me in! I have to show you something."
Derek and Justine exchanged looks. "Just out of curiosity, what happens if you refuse to go with the Council?" he asked, a question he maybe should have thought of earlier.
"They take me against my will."
"Can they do that?"
"Yep. Three against one and all that."
He considered t
hat. "What if it's four against three? I'm sure Theresa and Quincy would be willing to step up and provide assistance."
Justine felt a surge of hope swell in her chest, and she immediately squashed it. "They'll just call in reinforcements, so it will be another black mark against me. The fact I got Satan Jr. off Mona's case will go a long way toward sparing me, but if I refuse to go, I'm screwed." Dammit. She sounded like she was about to cry. Guardians didn't cry.
He cocked his head. "This doesn't feel right."
"No. It doesn't." But her voice quavered ever so slightly.
"You game for one last attempt?"
"Hell, yeah."
He grinned, held up his hand and grabbed her clothes. He tossed them to her and pulled on a pair of his own sweats. "Key is above the door, Quin. Come in."
He levered the sword at her neck again, and she just barely got hers back in position when the door opened, and Theresa and Quincy shoved their way into the room.
Theresa stopped first. "Hot damn, Justine. He's a total hottie. He looks great without a shirt!"
The corner of Derek's mouth curved up, and Justine poked him with the sword. "Show off."
"Gotta get her on my side somehow." He nodded at Quin, but didn't move the sword from Justine's neck. "What do you have?"
"I don't think Satan Jr. can actually curse," Quincy said.
Derek groaned. "You're denying the Curse again? That's why you're in here? It's too late for that."
The old man, the pirate and the businessman appeared in the doorway. "Guardian, it's time to go," the old man announced.
All the hope she'd had a split second ago vanished. What the hell had she been thinking, wanting to save Derek's life, thinking that there was an easy way out? This was the Council. She was so screwed.
"Back off, old man," Theresa growled. "She'll go when I say she goes." Then she set his hairpiece on fire and blew it down the hall with a gust of hot air. He shouted in protest and ran down the hall, covering his head and muttering about unspeakable horrors.
"One down," Derek said. "Two to go."
"All you've done is piss him off," Justine said, her gut sinking. She was in so much trouble. "It doesn't change anything important."
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