Page 84 of Saint of the Shadows

“I should’ve known how powerful he could be from your warning. You shouldn’t have had to—” Vincent’s mouth gaped and then relaxed as the battered Tobias limped to his other side. “Quinlan.” Vincent extended his hand.

Tobias shook it. “Vinnie.”

They held their handshake. The hair on Tobias’s arm stood straight from Vincent’s touch. Their eyes darkened and shimmered with a palpable intensity, switching the handshake from a sign of gratitude to a pair of opponents sizing each other up before a fight. Marisol flexed her hand, ready to karate chop them apart. Then Tobias blinked, and they dropped it. Instead of looking ready to rip each other’s throats, they smirked.

They had worked together years before she entered the picture. How many news stories hid their collaboration between the lines? She and Vincent had become so intertwined in such a short amount of time that someone knowing him longer, however superficially, aroused a tinge of jealousy. She lifted his hand to her face and kissed the inside of his wrist—their own secret handshake.

“I’ll let you two have a moment. I’m showering. No peeking.” Tobias raised his eyebrows at Marisol.She snorted in protest. “Especially you,” he said to Vincent.

Vincent lifted an eyebrow and smiled. His lips curled like those of a cat that just cornered a mouse. But in actuality, it was the smile of playboy Vincent Varian, who got whatever he wanted. His amused yet predatory eyes locked onto Tobias until he disappeared around the alcove.

If they were this friendly, now might be a good time for Vincent to know about her mistake. “There was a time where I thought he was you.”

“I know.”

“You knew?”

Vincent blinked and nodded, emphasizing his long eyelashes. Then his gentle demeanor stretched into a smirk. “For curiosity’s sake, when in the timeline did you realize that he wasn’t…”

Easy. “At the hideaway.”

His smug expression pickled with concern. “We kissed before then.”

The confident nod of her head stopped as she winced. That she couldn’t—at one time—know the difference between his remarkable mouth and tongue versus Tobias’s—ahem!—skills would kind of put a damper on the romantic moment, so she set her gaze on scorching. “Even in the dark, I would know the curves of your lips, the playful games of your tongue, and the little hum you make when I give it to you good.”

He flicked his eyebrows up, impressed, and curved a finger into a come-hither motion. She lowered her head to meet his lips. He parted her lips with his tongue, and she met the tempting circling of his tongue with her own.

She knew more than the details of his kiss because he made her feel understood. Within her, a creator wrote a secret code only he could unlock and vice versa. Words likecompleteorthe onewere too reductive, overlooking that life endowed both with independent and whole livelihoods. By intertwining their strengths like rope, they had become indestructible and absolute. And the only word for it wasunderstood.

Limb by limb, she joined him on the gurney until her body was flush to his. “Do you also know how much you need me?”

“Hm.”

“I want nothing but joy and happiness for you,” she whispered, lifting his chin with her hand. “I will be your spirit and share your burdens. I will be your hope when you have seen nothing but darkness. I will turn your wrath to righteous fury. I will help us achieve the Justice that will free you.” She ran her thumb over his lips in the shape of a cross, her blessing.

Their knees touched; they lay in perfect parallel, leaving room only for their breath. Marisol motioned with her index finger for a kiss. He obliged all too well, skillfully crushing his mouthagainst hers. A subtle rocking of his hips demanded more.

She pushed him away. Good judgment said to leave well enough alone. He was injured. Tobias would finish his shower any minute now. But Vincent rubbed under her shirt, from her waist to her hip, grazing under the edge of her drawstring waistband.

Many times before, when life’s struggles seemed insurmountable, she’d lose herself, believing her desires were the last to matter. Though the Bloodsucker bruised, battered, and scarred their bodies, he had no claim on them, no place here. Their bodies were theirs alone. Only love belonged here. And she needed to believe it down to her marrow. She touched her nose to Vincent’s and nodded.

Vincent kissed a trail from her cheekbone, neck, shoulder, flank. He descended, lower and lower. At her hip, he tugged her pants down with each kiss, slowly as not to make a sound. She lifted her hips enough to lower the waistband under her ass. He kissed the underside of her cheek. Her skin so sensitive, Marisol held her breath to stifle a moan.

Vincent pulled the blanket over her exposed backside. Good, he prevented an unfortunate view if Tobias happened to walk in. She scooted onto her back. He braced himself above her with one arm, the other disappeared under the blanket. His fingers journeyed down the crease of her thigh andhoned on the wet heat pooling below. He stroked, glancing over her clit. She hummed and writhed.

“Sh!” But a grin accompanied his reproach. This was the game: be quiet and still when she yearned for anything but.

And she was ready to play. As she kissed him, leisurely running her tongue over his, she gathered the hem of his hospital gown and drew it over his waist. His erection poked into her hip. She licked her palm and ran it from his base to the head of his shaft. Her thumb smeared the liquid pearled there. He leaned his forehead against hers and groaned. Loudly.

“Youshh!” she whispered.

He let out a breathy laugh as he nudged his way into her, centimeter by centimeter. The slow sensation pulled her into a tight ache. She wanted to be filled completely, but he kept the drive of his hips shallow and slow, dragging the flared tip of his cock across the front of her inner walls.

A mist of sweat. A flash of heat. She needed to squeeze her eyes shut to control the devastating torrent. But she watched for Tobias in her periphery. If he found her like this, his heart would break. Wouldn’t it?

The muscles inside her fluttered, her orgasm more-than looming. It was going to detonate. From sweet, shallow thrusts. From the ruse of holding back. From being whole and alive… because they saved each other… because she loved him utterly. She loved him, removed from his lake sanctuary andominous estate. She loved him without the mask, cape, and gadgets. She loved him.

Vincent cradled her head and drove in all the way. Marisol suppressed a cry, biting into the unbandaged flesh above his heart. “Your turn,” she breathed into his neck.

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