True Intentions (19 page)

Mallory smiled then laid out her demands. "I want you to kiss me."

"What? Hell no." Was he hallucinating?

This is absurd
.

Anger filled his pulseless veins.

So much for Ava not wanting Mallory to break one of the Ten Commandments
.
Mallory
obviously believes you
should
covet thy neighbor's . . . .

"Okay, fine. It's your choice," she said, shrugging while walking toward a nearby bench. "What do you think will happen to Ava once her Mom discovers the truth? Not only will she be grounded; she'll never be allowed to see you again. Can you live with that? I don't think you can."

She sat and picked at her fingernails.

She was right. If Ava's mom found out she'd brought some boy to Chicago, he would be banned from seeing her. How would he protect Ava if he couldn't be with her? His long-term plan stemmed around them officially dating as soon as they got back to California. That way, it would make sense why he was constantly around.

Who was the demon here—
Sam or Mallory?

She was doing a pretty good job intimidating him.

He gulped the lump in the back of his throat. Could he offer her another deal?

What else would she want?

Was it this or nothing?

"So, why do you want me to kiss you?" Sam demanded, breaking the silence.

Her response was instantaneous.

"Because you're gorgeous, and I can tell you're in love with Ava. So I know I can never have you . . . ."

"But," she continued, not pausing long enough for him to say a word. "I want one kiss, so I know what it would be like to be with you. That's all I am asking for."

Sam closed his eyes, contemplating his options. There was no choice between right and wrong—more like
wrong
and
wrong
.

If he didn't kiss Mallory, she'd expose the lie.

If he kissed Mallory, Ava would be devastated.

Would one kiss be
enough
to keep Mallory from spilling their secret, or would she continue to blackmail him?

There was one thing he had to know before making a decision.

"Will Ava know about this kiss?" he asked, straight to the point.

"Of course not, what do you think I am—a
monster
?" She got up from the bench and moved closer to Sam. She flashed a wicked smile, confident and proud.

Sam sensed she may end up working for Lucifer someday. She was a natural.

Sam leaned forward until his lips met hers. As soon as their lips touched, Mallory changed positions, pushing him backward. Within half a second, she was straddling him. She grabbed behind his ears and pulled their mouths together forcefully. She twined her fingers in his hair. Her unyielding lips kept aching for more.

He felt her heart pounding hard against his chest. Even though he cared deeply for Ava, he expected he would feel turned on during Mallory's aggressive, malevolent attack. He was still male, after all. But he felt nothing. He only wanted Ava in that way.

This had to end . . . .

Sam pulled back, effortlessly breaking her grip and ending her assault.

"You got what you want. Now get off me."

She snickered wickedly and licked her lips.

"Your secret is safe with me,
Mr. Mysterious
." She jumped off him and walked away from the park bench. She headed straight toward the church without looking back.

* * * * *

Now, Sam sits in the bleachers and watches Ava and Mallory across the baseball field. How he despises Mallory King.

He shouldn't have let Mallory be the victor so easily. Would she really have told?

Sam couldn't be certain. Either way, there was nothing stopping her from telling on them—even now. Something hadn't felt right about the entire situation, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Ever since Sunday's incident, he has avoided
both
Mallory and Ava as much as possible. He couldn't let Ava know the real, deceitful, spiteful Mallory.

Not at this point, anyway . . . .

He glances over to them across the park. The girls appear to be in deep conversation with two guys sitting in front of them. He watches Ava laughing and smiling at the other males. Unfamiliar feelings of jealousy come over him. He hates the loss of control. He feels helpless. Jealousy has all the power.

It makes sense. He can see why humans sin—because they're jealous. After all, how many murders or other acts of violence occur as a result of jealousy? Jealous over a threat to their mate by a rival, over money . . . . The list could go on and on. As he watches Ava from a distance, he wants nothing more than to get her away from those boys. He wants her to be all his, and
only
his,
forever.

He knows better.

What an implausible thought.

Ava is human, and he is a slave of the devil. Once Lucifer finds an opportunity to destroy Ava, Sam will be next in line. But he knows for certain: if she ends up dead, he wants to die too. In fact, he'll probably beg for it.

She means everything to him
.

He wants to be with her more than anything in this world, and if that's impossible, he'd rather not be alive.
If this hell on earth can be considered a life.

He closes his eyes for a moment to fantasize about how much he wants her in every way. Not only to be with her physically, to hold her, to kiss her. She's so fragile, so soft, and so completely breakable. But he also wants more than anything to wake up next to her every morning and feel her intimately on every level for eternity.

He quickly opens his eyes, dismissing the thought. These desires are unattainable. If he wasn't such a selfish monster, he'd step back and protect her from a distance; he'd allow her to find true love with someone else—
a human
. That's what he should have done . . . or should still do. It's not too late to give her an opportunity to love another.

Yet, the thought of her in another guy's arms enrages him beyond his wildest flight of imagination. Sam can't stand the thought of someone else being with her in
that
way. As he watches her mingling with the young males, jealousy washes over him.

Malicious thoughts surface from deep in his demonic soul.

Chapter Twenty-Five – A Gift

The rest of the week in Chicago flies by without incident. Sam remains overly distant—which drives me absolutely crazy. I'm sure he's done with me and this protection arrangement he got involved in. Tonight is our last night in Chicago, and we'll be getting up early to catch our flight. I have given up on my fantasies of Sam coming to my room in the middle of the night. Ever since he told me he loved me, he's become a different person—distant, cold, silent; he's definitely avoiding me.

I don't understand him.

Maybe he doesn't really love me after all, that there is no hope. Or maybe he realized saving me was a mistake.

The last few nights, I've cried myself to sleep, torn up from his constant, cold demeanor. I want to confront him, to yell at him, but there hasn't been one stinking moment I've been alone with him. We will board our plane soon enough, and I
will
get my chance.

I'm actually excited to leave Chicago. I never thought in a million years I would feel this way. But I do . . . . Tomorrow, I'll be at the place I consider home—
California.

While lying in bed picturing my new room—the way Mom described it in our phone calls over the last few days—I drift off to a deep sleep. I dream about playing at my old elementary school playground. I'm about six or seven years old. I look around the playground for Aiden, but, no matter how hard I search, I can't find him. I call his name, but he's nowhere to be found. Suddenly, I see him. He's walking toward me from behind a nearby building. It's as if he appeared out of thin air. I start running toward him, ecstatic to see him. As I approach, something feels wrong, Aiden looks pale and sick. I stop. He's carrying a knife and has a wicked look in his eyes. I turn and sprint back to the playground, but Aiden catches up with me swiftly—without much effort.

He grabs me by the shoulders and throws me onto the pavement. I lie helplessly with him standing over my body. He looks possessed. His eyes are glazed over like he's a zombie. I scream and jerk, waking from my horrific nightmare. I'm in bed. Thank God it was all a dream. I breathe a sigh of relief, then turn over and see Sam lying next to me.

"Sam!" I gasp, automatically hugging him without thinking. While embracing him, I take into account how distraught he's made me over the last few days. With those painful memories still fresh in my mind, I abruptly pull back. I'm about to tell him I want to know what's up, but he speaks first.

"I've missed you. Every night after you fall asleep, I come in here, but make sure I leave before morning." He sounds ashamed.

"Oh." One thing bothers me.

"Why didn't you ever wake me up?"

"Because . . . you look too beautiful while you sleep."

I frown. His presence is not as gratifying as it had been a moment ago.

Don't compliment me when I'm irritated at you.

Instead of wondering if I look beautiful, I'd much rather know why he has been acting so cold lately. I seek reassurance.

"Why the long face?" he whispers, gently grazing my bare arm with his index finger.

I hesitate. How honest should I be? I feel chills,
and it is not from his touch.

"I'm scared you're going to change your mind and leave—permanently," I manage to spit out.

It's the truth. Why someone as amazing as Sam would jeopardize his existence to protect me makes no sense. I've been living with the constant fear he'll eventually realize I'm not worth all this and go back to his old way of existence.

He is insistent. "Trust me, Ava. I'm not going anywhere . . . . Promise."

As he stares in my eyes, his expression becomes more playful. "Why are you so intoxicating?"

"What are you talking about? Me? Intoxicating?"

He must be confused.

"You put me under your spell every time I'm around you," he whispers in my ear, kissing the lobe lightly.

I can't help but smile.

"Maybe I'm a witch casting a spell on you."

I watch his teal eyes widen as if he has entered a trance. He sticks his arms in the air, mimicking a zombie.

"Stop it," I say, trying to control my laughter.

He smiles. I turn my body over, wrapping my arms around him. I feel my lips burning with the touch of his skin against mine. He moves his face closer to me but stops short. His breath is warm against my cheek. I move to graze over his fully parted lips with my own. I've missed his touch so much. I take in a deep mouthful of air. I feel completely dazed by his scent.

I follow his firm jawline with my burning lips down his neck, planting small kisses the entire way. I feel a strange aching I've never experienced before. The blood boils under my skin causing my body to feel overly sensitive. I open my eyes and can see his flutter open in response to mine. The unbearable beauty of his teal eyes lures me deeper. I'm mesmerized instantly.

"What are you thinking," he asks in a soft voice.

"I'm thinking that
you're
the one who is intoxicating. I guess I am turning into an alcoholic." I joke. I refuse to remove my lips from his neck while I speak. His scent is strong and breathtaking. Then, he gently pulls my face toward his and presses our lips tightly together. His tongue exploring mine sends my senses into a whirlwind of pleasure. I can't think of anything but wanting more . . . much, much more.

I have lost all my self-control. Satan is too good at what he does;
Sam is the perfect
temptation
. I'm not sure how to say no to my body any longer, and I'm not convinced I really want to. The temptation is so strong; no sense of right and wrong will change my mind.

I speak without thinking. "It's impossible to not want to be intimate with you. I want you to be my first . . . here . . . now."

His lips stop moving, and he gently pulls back, separating us. I hesitate. He's caught me by surprise.

I'm not prepared for this response.

"What?" I ask, defensively pulling farther away from him. I cross my arms as if this defensive position will protect my heart from being rejected.

"We can't, Ava."

I'm talking about sinning, wanting to be with him in the most intimate, physical way—
and he doesn't want me?

"We can't even think about that," he continues, his voice uncertain.

Are you kidding me?

"Hold on! I'm telling you I want you, and you're telling me no?" My voice cracks.

Tears fill my dry eyes.

He tenses.

"Ava, please don't cry," he begs. "Believe me, it's not that I don't want you. I want you more than anything in this world. You're completely lethal to me—in
every
imaginable way! But, it's really complicated. I don't know how to explain."

"Try!" My tears are at the point of overflowing.

He nods.

I pull my arm away from my chest momentarily to wipe my eye as one tear travels down my cheek.

"You have a very pure gift. It is
that
rare gift which is the big threat to Lucifer—

the main reason he wants you destroyed.
There are not many humans that have that sort of gift."

"What gift?" I ask, sitting straight up. My attention shifts from my personal pity-party to my confusion. I'm baffled. This topic has never come up before, and I don't understand what the hell he's talking about.

Sam leans over and brushes a piece of my hair out of my face and wipes another tear as he answers.

"You have a rare, special power to influence humans just as we do. But your gift works opposite of ours. You can influence the good in them like we influence the bad.

Believe me, your ability to influence is much more powerful than ours. That's why you were tracked down. If Lucifer can't have your soul, he wants you destroyed. He won't stop until you make the choice."

My confused expression forces him to continue, "If he could somehow get control over your powerful, spiritual ability, he would be even stronger than he presently is . . .