«I hate you!»
He laughed at her, bit the back of her shoulder, licked the stinging flesh until she panted. «No, you don't. You only wish you could.»
He was right, damn him.
Those wicked fingers rubbed her G-spot, and he shoved his cock deep in her ass, deeper than he'd ever been before and she was lost. She shattered, pushed beyond her endurance. Her inner muscles clenched around his fingers, his cock, and her entire body undulated against him in wanton abandon. Her skin felt too hot and too tight to hold in the ecstasy roiling through her, splintering her into a million unrecognizable pieces.
The last thing she heard before reality dissolved around her was his growl of «Mine.»
Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed forward. He caught her, cradled her against his chest, brushed her sweat-dampened hair away from her face, kissed her temple. He whispered something against her skin, but she didn't hear it. Consciousness slipped away, and she welcomed the sweet nothingness of oblivion.
CHAPTER 5
Tori dreamed about her last day as a human every night that week, her subconscious's constant reminder to keep her guard up around Jericho, to not get too close, to never repeat her past mistakes. Because she might help other people fall in love, but her final hours as a human proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was a failure in the love department-always had been, always would be.
She just wished the details had grown fuzzier with time, but they hadn't. The nightmare always started in the same place. She and Jericho arguing. Again. She'd wanted to see Enrique, to assure her brother that she was all right. She'd hated that she knew he'd be worried, and she'd been certain if she explained to him how she felt about Jericho, that he'd understand, that he'd give them his blessing. Jericho didn't want to release her as his prisoner, but her insistence had finally paid off and he'd returned her to her brother-or maybe he'd just gotten sick of listening to her, and his sexual toy had been less fun to play with. Her reputation had already been tattered beyond repair, so the damage to her brother's honor had been done.
The reasons didn't matter, in the end. All that mattered was that things hadn't gone the way she'd planned. She'd been such a naive little idiot. Enrique hadn't understood-he'd refused to let her go back to a man who'd stolen her virtue. Nothing she said would make him believe she loved Jericho, that she didn't want to live without him.
Her mind was locked in the dream, wanting to change how it ended, kicking and screaming and railing at herself, but it always ended the same. She could only watch and wait and live through her own demise over and over again. It was like Groundhog Day on crack.
She'd managed to escape Enrique's guards during the chaos of preparations for a surprise raid, and ridden her horse into the little backwater Texas town Jericho and his men occupied. Getting lost in the dark twice, terrified she wouldn't be able to warn Jericho in time, her memory tormented her with every moment of the horrifying panic of that ride. One of Jericho's men had reluctantly told her where to find him-the local saloon. The brothel. She hadn't wanted to believe, but she couldn't deny the truth that faced her-her brother had been right, Jericho had only used her to taunt an enemy, and she was a fool. She'd blurted out the information about Enrique's plans, that Jericho and his men were in danger, and then she'd staggered out, too broken, too numb to know or care where she should go next. She'd just gotten back on her horse and left. Jericho hadn't tried to stop her, hadn't come after her, hadn't cared that she'd been caught in the raid. He hadn't cared that she'd died trying to save his life. And he certainly hadn't had the decency to live and make her sacrifice worth something.
Every morning she jerked awake, back in her own bed, but sweat-soaked and shaking. Jericho was always there, reaching out to soothe her, and that soothing led to sex. Which meant her nerves were shot. Her senses were overloaded with both the remembered pain of Jericho and the overwhelming pleasure of being in his arms again.
It was enough to make her crazy. It sure as hell kept her a regular and loyal customer of Bean There, Done That. Caffeine was the only thing getting her through the days. She swallowed and offered Mason a smile when he noticed she'd stepped into line behind him. «Your Celia will be back from her convention tomorrow.»
She'd often accidentally run into him at the coffee shop, so if it was a little more often than usual this week, no one wondered why. If she could get in just a little encouragement here and there, it wouldn't hurt. Keep him thinking about his soul mate, remind him he wanted her.
Mason grinned his pirate's grin, showing even white teeth. «She's not my Celia. Yet.»
«Well, she's a fool to turn you down, young man.» Tori threw in an extra little old lady creak to her voice and patted his brawny arm.
He laughed, his eyes dancing with real amusement. She got the impression he was bemused and a little touched that the kindly old town gossip took such an interest in his campaign to win Celia over. «Why, thank you, ma'am. I think so too.»
Sweeping his arm in front of him in a roughly gallant gesture, he let her step up to the counter and order her coffee first. He really was a nice guy, if they could just get him and Celia on the right track. Tori sighed, her smile crumbling when she turned her back on him.
Even with the ugly nightmares, the days had whipped by, time racing when she wanted it to slow down. Dread settled like a cold, twisted knot in her belly. For better or for worse, this thing with Jericho would be over soon.
Somehow, her subconscious's less-than-subtle nightly memos weren't enough. She was more in love with him than she ever had been before, and it made her want to vomit. Maybe she should have been surprised at the depth of her reaction, but she wasn't. Soul mating was her business, and she knew from personal experience what happened when things went wrong. Maybe that was why failed soul mates became this kind of Guardian. Who better to understand the importance of their missions? Who better to appreciate the difficulty, the agony, of falling in love?
Jericho had kept to their deal. He hadn't brought up their painful past, and Tori did her best to block out the nightmares and pretend it had never happened, to live in the now, to absorb the utter joy of being with a man crafted specifically for her.
It almost worked. When she was in his arms, she could almost forget. Almost.
As much as she loved every moment she spent with him, talking to him, being near him, a part of her would never belong to him, a piece of her heart and mind would never let her go all the way. And she was grateful. It would make it easier when they parted. She knew that, and still she ached. Ached for what was to come, and for what could never be.
She swayed on her feet, and Mason caught her elbow. «Whoa, Mrs. Chambers. You okay?»
His gaze had sharpened with both concern and professionalism. As a firefighter, he had medical training. Shit. She tried not to wince, straightened her shoulders, and offered the most genuine smile she could muster. «I'm just fine. Don't you worry.»
Nodding easily, he didn't relinquish his grip on her arm. «Why don't I walk you back to the inn anyway? Just for my piece of mind.»
It wasn't a request, and she knew it. Her grin was more genuine this time as amusement stole through her. A guardian angel couldn't get sick, couldn't get hurt, couldn't die. His anxiety was touching, and only made her more determined to get things right for him and his soul mate. She and Jericho may have screwed the pooch for themselves, but as Jericho had said, they wouldn't fail these people.