Wicked Kiss
Page 37

“Noted.” I struggled to breathe normally.
As he rose slowly to his feet, he trailed his hands along my sides, stopping at my waist, an inch of bare skin between my shorts and top. The shiver of energy raced between us.
This was different than him being close to me in public. This—all alone with no one watching us. It felt even more dangerous.
At this point, I couldn’t have pushed him away even if I’d wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to. His spicy scent sank into me. The warmth of his touch, normally enough to chase the cold away, burned right into my skin.
His expression tensed as he looked down to where his hands grasped my waist. “Touching you...even knowing you’re a nexus...I still don’t understand why it helps bring such clarity to my mind. Why it feels...”
“Feels?” I could only manage a whisper.
His gaze met mine. “So good.”
I let out a hoarse laugh, throaty and nervous. “Maybe for you.”
He let go of me abruptly and stepped back. The cold returned like a bucket of ice water had just been poured on me.
I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”
“Of course you did. It is a bad thing.” He raked his hand through his messy hair. “I forget too easily. I’m making this worse for you. Cassandra’s right—so are the others. It’s better if I stay away. I don’t know why I can’t.”
“Inconvenient addiction,” I reminded him shakily. My hunger raged like a caged beast inside me, even with him now more than an arm’s reach away from me. I fought hard to keep it locked up.
“Yeah.” He watched me from the shadows of my room. “Very inconvenient.”
I sat down heavily on the side of my bed and touched the leather sheath of the dagger. It was light in weight, barely noticeable. I focused on the carved hilt, running my fingers over the ruby, feeling its tingling power across my skin—its magic. It was a pure magic. It had no darkness in it. That much was reassuring.
Bishop stayed silent. My only indication that he hadn’t left was my ever-present hunger pains, currently holding steady at a level eight. And a half.
“How long have you been an angel of death?” I asked quietly.
“Long enough.”
Frustration rippled through me and I looked directly at him. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, all the questions that rose up in my throat. “How long since you died? Since Kraven died? Did you die at the same time? Why is he a demon and you’re an angel? You said you killed him and sent him to Hell. Did you know that would happen? Is that what made you an angel? Was it some sort of Heavenly test?”
He turned to the window, placing his hands flat on the pane as he looked outside to the street. His shoulders were tense. “I can’t talk about these things.”
“In general? Or just with me? I don’t understand why you refuse to tell me anything about yourself that might help me understand you better. No wonder I have nightmares about you.” Then I was the one who swore, before covering my face with my hands.
Bishop was beside me in a moment, kneeling down on the floor next to my bed and taking my hands in his to pull them away from my face. His expression held deep torment.
“I don’t keep truths from you to hurt you.”
“Then why?”
His brows drew together. “I just can’t talk about it. You need to trust me.”
“I want to.”
“I know you rely on your head a lot of the time. You’re smart. You look at things from that standpoint. That studying and getting good grades is the only way there is to understand things. But some things can’t be spoken aloud. Can’t be studied. The truth won’t tell you about me.” He swallowed hard. “Trust your heart.”
“My heart is a bit of a liar.”
“No, it isn’t.” His grip tightened on my hands enough that I finally looked at him. Our eyes met and held. “It knows the truth even if you don’t realize it yet.”
He was so close, too close. Again, I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.
“You could have given me that dagger anytime,” I whispered. “Why now?”
His lips curved to the side. “Maybe I wanted an excuse to visit you alone in your bedroom.”
That coaxed a very small laugh from me, and despite my better judgment, I entwined my fingers with him. I didn’t stop looking in his beautiful blue eyes—eyes I dreamed about every night, even apart from disturbing nightmares. Most of my dreams about Bishop were very good ones.
I slid off the side of my bed so we kneeled face-to-face with each other. I released his hands so I could slide my hands up the front of his chest, his skin warm through the thin barrier of his T-shirt. My thoughts were falling away with each second that passed.
Dangerous. Too dangerous. Cassandra was right.
I needed to kiss him.
This is why he’d come here. All joking aside, all gifts, and information and horrible days pushed away.
He’d come here tonight so I would kiss him. So I could satisfy his inconvenient addiction to me—even if that meant I might take the rest of his soul.
Bishop’s hands tightened at my waist and he pulled me closer to him, close enough that I could feel the rapid pulse of his heart against mine. His eyes glowed an intense blue. I was lost in those eyes as I slid my fingers over his jaw, cheeks, temples and up into his dark hair, so soft to the touch.
My lips were only a whisper away from his...