Page 85 of Saint of the Shadows

“Ay,” he rasped. But the shower shut off. Vincent stopped, remaining inside her. The lack of friction tortured her back from reaching the edge again. The once exploded bomb inside defused—for now. Tobias had to take at least some time to dry and dress.

Vincent thrust deeply with deliberate strokes and muted his moans by kissing her temple and ear. Under her grip, his shoulder muscles tensed tighter and tighter. The gurney creaked louder and louder. A final thrust like a jump. Silence like a fall. And then? Landing. Vincent collapsed, pressing his entire weight into her. A throaty sigh, hot against her neck, was the only sound he made as he came. Through the halo of golden curls, she saw a shadow moving in the alcove.

Vincent withdrew. Before she could whimper from feeling empty, he lowered his hand between them. “One more for me.” He stroked her in circles, mixing with their sweat, her arousal, his seed into the slickest lubricant. So sensitive, another movement would push her over the precipice.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t what?” Vincent pinched her clit between his fingers. Everything in her body drew tight, andshe snapped, holding the orgasmic wail in the strained tendons of her neck.

She caressed the back of her calf with his foot. Her lips vibrated with the m of more.

“Will someone please punch me in the other eye?” Tobias asked. He stood at the entrance of the alcove in too-small scrubs, drying his hair with a rag.

Marisol jackknifed up and adjusted her pants under the cover of the blanket. She combed through her hair with her fingers to pretend nothing happened, hiding the shudders as she came down. Embarrassment bloomed next to the not-yet faded fervor smacked across her cheeks.

Vincent found the rag-stained pink with his blood hanging off the rail of the gurney. He began wiping his hands with it, matter-of-factly, like they were smudged spectacles. “Don’t feel like you have to knock, Quinlan.”

Tobias flopped back onto the sofa. “Would now be a good time to talk about some ground rules when we’re sharing close quarters?”

“Any suggestions? I’ve got nothing.” Vincent’s eyes glowed unabashedly.

“How about keeping the hanky-panky to a minimum?”

“That was me at my minimum.” Vincent licked at his plump bottom lip and rubbed it over his top one.

Marisol raised her hand. “I have a suggestion. How about minding your own business?”

Tobias’s good eye sparkled. “Touché.”

Damn. Not only did his heart withstand breaking, but that spark also said he enjoyed it. She aimed to dart to the safety of the shower alcove, except the rush of blood from her pelvis back to her limbs almost took her back down, and she wobbled toward the lair’s shower and only hiding spot. Of course she cleaned up, put on another pair of pants, but here, she could smile, sigh, laugh as traces of Vincent pinged from nerve to nerve.

When she emerged, Tobias stretched his legs across the cushions and shook out a dusty blanket.

“You’re staying the night?” she asked.

The plastic crinkled under his weight as he moved on the couch. “Appears so. I want at least someone around in case I don’t wake up, you know, if I happen to be severely concussed.”

“That’s actually a common misconception. You can sleep with a concussion,” she said as she nestled against Vincent in the rickety bed.

“I know, but it’d be wrong to leave.”

“It’s safer here,” Vincent said. “Staci, the lights!”

The room went dark. Marisol closed her eyes and hugged Vincent to her. With Vincent in her arms, she felt blessed.

Interlude

wHO kNEW THE mASKED fREAK oUTSOURCED? i gUESS tHERE aRE pEOPLE oUT tHERE wHO cARE aBOUT vINCENT vARIAN. tSK tSK tSK.

bUT mAKE nO mISTAKE, IT iSN’T oVER. i’M eVOLVING. i’LL lEARN. i’LL aDAPT. IN THE eND, IT wILL aLL lEAD TO yOUR dESTRUCTION. I cAN’T dESTROY yOUR bODY, BUT i cAN dESTROY yOUR sOUL. iF IT iSN’T pESTILENCE tAKing oUT tHIS cITY AND yOUR lITTLE wONDER bOYS wITH iT, IT wILL bE wATCHING yOUR aGONY wHEN THE cITY rEALIZES tHEIR sALVATION iS tHROUGH mE. yOU wON’T bE sO sPECIAL tHEN, vARIAN. iS tHAT wHY yOU hID tHAT dOCTOR IN THE dREGS OF yOUR rESEARCH? TO pROTECT yOUR sECRET? bECAUSE THE pOWER rUNNING IN yOUR vEINS cOULD bELONG TO aNYONE? iMAGINE iT, A wHOLE cITY aBOVE dEATH AND dISEASE.

iT’S fITTING tHAT A mAN lIKE mE hAS tHIS rESPONSIBILITY hOISTED uPON mE. i mADE A cAREER OF tAKING mONEY pITS AND bUILDING pROFITS FROM tHEM. tHIS iS THE nEXT lEVEL—LIKE aSCENDING TO THE gODS OF oLYMPUS-lEVEL. i cAN bUILD A wHOLE cITY OF pEOPLE lIKE uS.

sTOP mE, AND yOU’LL bE THE mAN wHO lET pEOPLE dIE IN THE sTREETS. wHAT wILL bE yOUR lEGACY, vARIAN?

27

Deathmatch Eve

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