Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1)
Page 22
Anger shot Prudence to her feet. “Only because he taught better strategies for outrunning demons. And for finding the lost. He has a genius intelligence.”
“He cut a genius deal. We get the low hanging fruit from the tree, but no more in exchange for the rest of Hell. It’s why you can’t release Ellie. She belonged in a lower level.”
“You don't know that. All of this is conjecture.”
Swift pointed at the translations. “I have some proof.” He touched a finger to his temple. “Think about it, Prudence, and you'll know I'm right. Or at least partially.”
She dropped to the couch and hunched over, sick to her stomach. Part of her clung to denial. But a bigger part than she wanted to admit suspected Swift might be a little right.
A big hand spread across the middle of her back, and she knew by touch it was Jesse. He rubbed soothing circles over shoulders.
“You gonna be okay, Princess?”
Arms wrapped tight around her middle, she spoke softly to him. “You've been trying to keep this moment from happening. Because you didn’t believe.” She braced herself and chanced a glimpse at his serious face. “Where do you stand now?”
His chiseled mouth pulled thin, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face and slipped it behind her ear. “You mean, where do we stand now? I’m not sure what I believe and the only way to get proof is to search Hell. The question is, do we want proof?”
Her head ached as much as her heart, but getting proof her father was innocent and finding Heaven’s Door were paramount. The risk of being booted out of Hell Runners didn’t seem like such a big loss anymore.
“If I say let’s try to find the door, you’ll do it?”
“For you, I will.”
“Okay then.”
Swift let go a whoop and leaped to his feet.
“But on one condition,” she hollered at him over her shoulder. “No more talk about Dad betraying Hell Runners. Got it?”
When he didn’t answer right away, Jesse narrowed his eyes at him.
“Okay. Of course.” Swift sounded exasperated but happy. He veritably danced his way behind the sofa and leaned over the back to squeeze between them. “Now for some good news. I’ve already found one door.”
“You should have led with that,” she said.
“Maybe. The new door’s how I beat you both to McDevitt’s. Thanks to the scrolls, I found a local entrance into Hell. It’s not some showy bronzed sculpture, mind you, but it does the trick. And it’s close by, which is why I bought this warehouse.” He raised one finger to the ceiling. “Best of all, not monitored by the council.”
“Not monitored?” She managed to wiggle around onto her knees without being swallowed by the giant cushions. “So, unsafe. Are you crazy? You could unleash all of Hell onto Earth.”
“Nope. The border creek keeping the demons corralled in the First Ring cuts a good twenty-foot swath in front of the entrance. The demons can’t cross it anywhere, or they disintegrate. It's hidden by an overgrowth of brambles in the side of a hill. I don't think any human or agent of Hell knows it’s there. We can run everything on the sly.” Full of energy, he straightened and headed for the door. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
“Not tonight.” Jesse slid a hand down the length of her back. “God, you’re really shaking. And probably exhausted. It’s late. How about I take you home, Princess?” He took both her trembling hands in his and helped her to her feet.
“No,” Swift blurted. “We still need to discuss a course of action.”
“She’s wiped.”
“Sleep here. We can continue in the morning over breakfast. You won’t regret it,” he added quickly. “Eggs Benedict is my specialty. Prudence can take the bed. Jesse and I can rough it out on the couches.”
She must have been overtired because Swift started sounding reasonable. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
“You sure?” Still holding her hands, Jesse rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, every stroke of comfort making her wish for more.
But she couldn’t accept more, and he couldn’t give more. Not until he revealed the secret blighting his soul and turning him into a power that wrenched fear from demons. Sleeping under the same roof might give her enough time to entice it out of him.
“I’m sure. I don’t want to leave until I know everything.”
Chapter Twenty
Jesse jacked up the kitchen window and then dragged his pillow and a couple of blankets out onto the metal fire escape. Sawing ZZZs as soon as his head hit the pillow, Swift and his deviated septum could have the living room.
Okay by him, he preferred sleeping under the stars anyway.
Spreading one blanket over the waffle-weave steel landing, he wrapped the other around his shoulders and then lay back to stretch his legs over the railing. He crammed the pillow in a wad under his neck and stared above, a sense of peace finally settling over him.
He had to give his scheming friend credit, Swift knew how to hide in plain sight.
And with style.
The abandoned warehouse sat in the middle of God’s good-nowhere, surrounded by a wire fence overgrown with vines and briars. Anyone passing by wouldn’t look twice at the dilapidated brick building covered in creeping ivy and filthy windows.
But inside was another world entirely.
Wherever or however Swift got his dough, he sure knew how to spend it. Top of the line everything, high-end televisions, a sub-zero refrigerator, and a shower that battered your sore muscles with pressurized water from every angle.
Yep. Swift lived the life.
But Jesse wasn’t jealous of the gadgets…only the privacy cash could buy.
He inhaled deeply of the cool air and expelled it, slow and deliberate. The night was clear, the black sky chock full of stars with a far-away moon the size of a dime.
Rolling onto his side, he stared at the rice paper partition surrounding the bedroom. Prudence laid asleep a few feet away.
Close enough to touch.
And entirely off-limits.
That didn’t stop his rod from stiffening or the tingle around his heart. Agreement or not, his longing for her was going to get in the way eventually. What the fuck was he going to do?
“Jesse?” Her gentle voice tickled the inside of his ear. “You asleep?”
It was the ear bud. He’d worn it so much that he’d forgotten to remove it.
In the next instant, the low light of a bedside lamp set the plain screen dividing them aglow, and a shadow glided from one side of the room to the other.
He bolted upright.
Gaze riveted to her outline, he held his breath and considered his eyes might be lying.
She raised a hand to her ear and whispered his name again. The silhouette of her full breasts curving up from her slender ribcage was distinctly defined. She brazenly paraded around Swift’s room nude.
“No. I’m not asleep,” he said, huskily.
“Good. I need your help.”
Help?
She disappeared, and the rumble of something heavy dragging over the hardwood floor piqued his curiosity.
The light changed as a stronger shaft of brightness shot up at the ceiling.
Of course. The full-length mirror from Swift’s closet. She wanted to hunt for the birthmark. His fingers rubbed at the tattoo on his right side. He couldn’t blame her for being curious.
Every nerve in Jesse sizzled with lustful heat. Damn. How could he refuse an opportunity to gaze upon her delicious body? And how could he help her find the mark and not want to end up tangled in the sheets?
Unconsciously, he dragged a hand over his lips, remembering the burn of her tongue as it swirled inside his mouth. He’d healed quickly, but full-on sex would probably do unspeakable damage to his dick.
He winced. The desire to protect his favorite body part would keep him in check. But that didn’t mean his eyes couldn’t feast.
He tapped the button at his ear. “I’ll be right there.”
Vaulting
through the window, his bare feet slapped down on the kitchen tile. He rounded the partition in seconds, nearly knocking it over with a shoulder bump.
“Careful,” she whispered. “Don’t wake the beast.” She pointed toward the living room where Swift continued to buzz contentedly.
Good point. He wouldn’t share this view with anyone.
She stood close to the wall, sandwiched between a footed floor mirror and the array of shiny tiles across the back. The old dress shirt Swift had given her for a nightie lay in a pale blue puddle on the carpeted floor at her feet, and for the second time that night, she stood before him in the lacy red half-bra and barely-there thong.
At least this time she couldn’t see his hard-on. It had been too chilly outside for sleeping in his shorts, and he’d remained fully clothed.
“For a minute I thought I saw something, but I couldn’t tell.”
She leaned close to the floor mirror to study her shoulder, and her cleavage reflected a thousand-fold behind her.
The Passion Pit couldn’t have devised a more torturous punishment.
His hands flexed, and it took all his willpower not to reach up and mold her plush breasts in his palms. He longed to feel their weight in his hands and the silky fabric that magically held them in place against his cheeks as he pressed his face into her soft, warm cleavage. The crotch of his jeans seemed to shrink, and he forced his gaze away, but with so many mirrors, she virtually surrounded him.
She stretched behind the mirror and retrieved a sheet of paper from the dresser, snapping him out of the moment.
“Take a look at this.” She handed him the page.
The bait Swift had casually dropped on top of the translations. The son of a bitch knew she wouldn’t sleep. By morning she’d be frustrated from searching on her own and eager for help.
At least she’d been smart enough to ask him while Swift lay conked out.
“You don’t mind helping, do you? I figured since you’ve already seen me like this there was no point in being shy.”
“No point at all.” He didn’t bother trying to hide his roving gaze.
She twisted to examine her back in the mirror. “And no birthmark.”
“You’re not looking in the right spot.”
One-handed, he reached up and unsnapped the fasteners on her bra. It sprang free, and she gasped, clutching the cups in place.
“It’s right here.” With her skin dry, she was safe to touch for the time being. He drew a slow circle around the mark, vaguely visible without the obstruction of the bra’s band.
He felt the rise of goose bumps under his fingertips and the tremor as she caught his gaze in the mirror’s reflection.
Her eyes never left his. “Does it look like the mark of the Vessel?”
“Yes.” Skin so tender, he couldn’t force his fingers to stop tracing the small, slow circles.
A stuttering breath fogged the mirror in front of her. The pale mark warmed, and the outline of a hollow ring emerged clearer, no more than three inches across with a notch in the top. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked her coyly, still touching, still caressing, ever so softly.
“Yeah. It tingles a little.” Her eyes dropped to the reflection of the pale brown emblem. “Wow. I guess I am the Vessel.” She smiled up at him. “How did you know it would emerge if you touched me?”
“Lucky guess.”
“You never guess.” Her mouth quirked at the corner, and he fought the urge to kiss it off.
“What can I say, I'm a lucky bastard.” He raked his shirt off over his head.
“Not that lucky.” She backed into the mirrored wall, still covering her breasts with her hands and arms. “At least not yet.”
Not yet? So, the search for the mark wasn’t her only purpose.
Hesitantly, he stepped closer. The drive to pin her to the bed set his mind reeling. Penetration was off the table, even if he double-bagged. But maybe satisfaction could be achieved in other careful ways. If only this once. Swift surely had an arsenal of sex toys on hand that would take her mind off kissing and intercourse.
“Are you sure about that?” With a feather touch, he stroked a line from her clavicle to the top of her cleavage. “You seem…” He noticed the tremble across the top of her breasts. “Ready.”
Her body swayed toward him, but her eyes blazed with a challenge. “It’s not yet for as long as you keep secrets from me.”
“What?” It stung like a smack to the face. He backed up.
“Tell me what you’re hiding.” She covered her breasts as much as she could with one arm and then removed the red bra and dangled it. “If you confess everything right here, right now—the panties come off next. Then the rest is up to you. As long as you let me in.”
“You’re bribing me?”
“Damn straight. Whatever it takes to save your soul.” She waggled the wisp of lace. “And our asses.”
“We went over this already. I can’t tell you.” All his lust turned quickly into anger. He scrubbed his hot face with his hands and then glared at Prudence. “So that’s all this was? Some sneaky game.”
“Sneaky—yes. Game—no. I care about you. I don’t want to lose my partner.”
Partner. Shit. “Well, I don’t take advantage of partners.”
“You wouldn’t be taking—”
“Stop,” he whispered hoarsely, holding up one hand. “This little charade is done. I’ve said my piece, and I don’t expect to repeat it. Ever. Again.”
“I know you’re angry and I don’t blame you, but—”
“Put your clothes on, Princess.”
She stood still as a statue, naked, all but for one tiny patch and a modesty arm crushing her breasts. If she thought he was going to turn around, she was wrong. He would look until he was sated, since that was all he’d ever have.
Pursing her lips, Prudence finally stooped to retrieve the shirt, and her arms dropped away in her haste to dress. For at least five seconds, her bare breasts reflected in every one of the tiles while she shoved her arms into the shirt sleeves.
An accident or was she still trying to play him? He didn’t care. He didn’t appreciate her tactics one bit.
“I’m sorry, Jess.” She sighed and fastened a button. “I felt like I didn’t have another choice. After what happened—”
“I get it. You were scared,” he said through a jaw so tense it hurt. He tossed his shirt onto the bed. “But you won’t need to be scared anymore. I promise.”
“Shouldn’t you be putting your shirt back on?” She aligned another small button to a hole.
“When I took off my shirt, I hadn’t intended to seduce you.” It was a half lie, but he had his pride to preserve. “But I was easily distracted. Trust me—it won’t happen again.”
Prudence nodded and averted her eyes.
“I wanted you to touch my birthmark, while I touch yours. I want to see what happens.”
She gave him a shy once-over. “I'm afraid to ask, but where is your birthmark?”
“A moment ago you were ready to offer up yourself for a secret. Did you think I was going to keep my pants?”
“No, but now everything’s—different.”
“It’s not,” he lied. “We’ve been through too much bullshit together for anything to be different. Now wipe that worried look off your face.” He brushed fingers over the inked hawk and angled his ribcage so she could see. “When I found out what the mark meant, I disguised it with this tattoo. Whether I believe in the Prophecy or not, it seemed like the smart thing to do at the time.”
“Was it?”
He nodded. “You’re proof of that. And you were right—I’m not lucky, though it depends on your definition of luck. I saw your mark a few years ago. You were wearing a bikini at one of Connie’s picnics. We were all horsing around in the pool. There was some innocent touching. I didn’t realize what it was at the time, but I think your father saw it, too. And he did understand.”
�
��That explains a lot. Why didn’t you say this in front of Swift?”
“You see how he gets. I thought you should want to be the Vessel before you started looking for proof.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “And I do. Want to.”
“Here.” He guided her hand over his tat, and she gently pressed her fingers and palm onto his skin.
It felt too good having her stand so close, but there was no way around it. Snaking his arms around her, he jacked up the tail of her shirt with one hand. With his gaze focused in the mirror behind Prudence, he slid his other hand up over her silky back. As soon as he connected to the mark, a jolt of pain seared into his side. Heat radiated from his tattoo straight through his arm into his hand caressing her skin.
She choked back a yelp, and he jerked his hand away.
“Prudence?”
“I’m okay,” she rasped, turning her back to the standing mirror.
Raising her hands over her head, she hiked up the back of her shirt and stared into the mirror over her shoulder.
The emblem’s outline had intensified, deepening to a reddish-brown.
“There’s no turning back now, is there?”
“Did you really want to? At any point?”
“Probably not.” Her eyes lowered to his side. “What’s happened to you?”
He twisted to see his reflection. The tattoo would no longer disguise his mark. Unlike Prudence, his emblem burned so deep it bled. Probably from her Holy Water-soaked pores, though he hadn’t noticed a burning sensation when caressing her.
Fuck. Her touch was worse than he’d thought.
“Leave it alone,” she ordered when he dabbed at it with his fingers, and then she dashed into the bathroom. In a moment, she returned with a damp towel, alcohol, and bandages.
“Sit.” She pointed to the bed, and he complied. Stooping next to him, she cleaned his wound and taped him up in no time.