Page 21 of Antihero (Tregam’s Fractured Souls #3)

Then, his mouth, tongue, teeth, lock onto the side of my neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, sucking so suddenly that I cry out, half convinced he’s going to draw blood.

The thrill of it shoots downwards, his hard body pressing close, pinning me into submission.

Tristan releases the bite as suddenly as he began it, and I feel the throb and tingle of what’s going to be a mean hickey.

“No lying tonight,” he coos, letting up the pressure he’s holding against me, though he still keeps his fists braced to cage me.

Breath coming fast, I peer into the featureless dark of his face, and don't say a thing.

“Good start,” he commends.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I want you to answer my questions. True, or false… and if you lie to me, I’ll know.” Again, I say nothing. He drifts closer again, nearly brushing against me. After a pause, pregnant with what he’s going to make me tell him, Tristan starts, “You’re targeting people connected with the old asylum…”

“True,” I say. No point lying about that. It’s obvious enough.

“…and,” he goes on, “the girls' orphanage…”

My lips close. Then, begrudgingly. “True.”

“…because you were in that orphanage.”

How could he know that? I hesitate. Too long, and he’ll know without me saying anything.

“No…” My word cuts off in a gasp as his mouth, so fast, locks onto me again, lower this time, where my neck meets my shoulder.

My hands brace against his chest, pushing back to no avail.

He only releases when he’s ready. When my pulse is racing, the pain and mingled pleasure having quickened my breath.

“Lie,” he states, with no room for argument. Then, in the voice I’m fast becoming used to, so soft this time it’s almost gentle, he speaks, “You really didn’t know who I was at the start.” A pause, and somehow softer still, the question, “You just liked me.”

My lips part. “True.” Even in the dark, I feel his eyes on me, feel that I’m meeting his.

“You lost a sister, too.”

At that, I blink. If not for the dark, I might have tried to lie, but it’s easier to speak these things when you think no one can see. “True.” My voice is weak, a whisper. I don’t know how he knows these things, but he does.

“You don’t regret drugging me.” I feel the air change, the tone of his voice no longer soft, some of his anger seeping back into it. He didn’t take that well, then.

I bite my lip as his hand lifts off the tiles to trace the soft skin on the back of my arm, sliding up over the curve of my shoulder where the strap of my bathing suit ties in a little bow.

His finger slides under it, tugging towards the corner of my shoulder, though not off entirely.

The effect of his touch tingles across my chest, my nipples tightening against the taut fabric.

“True,” I say in a near-whisper.

“You still intend to kill more.” With his words, he tugs the strap, the knot falling open and that side of my suit folding down, exposing the swell of my breast above my nipple.

My chest rises and falls that bit faster. Even as I know he knows the true answer, I say, “False,” and brace for the sudden pain.

This time though, Tristan lets the anticipation linger, drifting close, lips grazing the other two bruises he’s left as he traces lower, lower, to the new line of my bathing suit.

He nips the skin first, and my breath catches, senses primed and tense.

Then his tongue slides over the soft skin, sucking it against his lips.

A small noise escapes me before he lets go.

I’m still panting as he once again puts space between us.

“Who’s next? Harry?”

“Bastard,” I bite back instead.

Tristan closes the distance again, fast, and I brace, but he only lets his lips brush light across mine. I can see the glint of one eye. “Harry is next. You will try again?” he asks.

I shove back against his chest, snapping, “True.”

“It doesn’t matter what I threaten you with, you won’t tell me why.”

“True,” I answer that fast, venomously.

I can almost hear him grin. “You’re wet.”

“I’m in a pool.”

“Don’t get cute now, Cutthroat. We’re not done.”

My jaw tightens. “True.”

His other hand finds the second strap, tugging it loose, and this time he tugs the front down sharply, so that it folds under my breast, the waterline even with my hardened nipple.

Well, that’s until his hands on my hips lift me, bringing me another two inches out of the water.

His mouth is now suggestively close, leaving no question of where he’ll bite next.

I wish the thought didn’t make me want to squirm, didn’t make me want to lie.

It turns out, I needn’t have worried about the conundrum of whether I want to lie, since Tristan makes the rules in this game, and he can be as unfair as he likes. “Cats or dogs?”

I blink. “That’s not a true or false question.”

“Mm. But I’m still waiting for an answer.”

Asshole.

“Dogs,” I grate out.

That half-huff of a laugh, rasping in his altered voice.

“Not a lie,” I point out.

“But I only accept ‘true’ or ‘false’,” he coos, like I knew he would.

I can only brace myself as his breath sweeps over my chest, tongue finding the sensitive and primed peak of my nipple.

My fingers curl against his bare chest, nails biting, but he doesn’t care, taking his time to graze his teeth over me as my breath pants out.

Then he sucks, drawing me into and then out of his mouth slowly, making the sensation somehow more and more intense as heat floods between my legs.

He does it again, and I whimper, arching involuntarily towards his mouth, my body and breath trembling as he flicks his tongue.

Right when I think he’s going to end the exquisite torture, his mouth closes over me a third time, slow and languorous.

My head tips back, my sex throbbing. If he so much as brushes me with his thigh now, I might combust.

Then, mercifully, when I’m wondering if I could come from just that after all, he stops.

“Take it off,” he growls, “Now.”

I do as he says, wriggling out of the tight one-piece, my skin embracing the freedom of the water, the new heat it seems to hold.

He’s close again, and I realise he’s already naked, thanks to the way his erection pokes me hard in the stomach, then the thigh, as his hands on my hips float me higher, bringing my chest level with his mouth.

“No more lies, sweet,” he murmurs against my throat.

Part of me wants to bite back that he’s changing the rules as he likes, anyway.

Yet another, cowed but horny part, wants to preserve what’s left of my self-control.

Then he lifts me, high enough that my butt comes up over the lower edge, sitting me in the two inches of water over the shelf.

The air is cool, but I’m so heated from within that it doesn’t affect me.

He pulls my legs wide, knees brushing the sides of his shoulders, and I lean back as his lips graze my navel. “You don’t want me.”

“True,” I say, clearly lying.

He bites below my breast, sucking briefly before saying, “I’m going to taste you.”

My breath hitches. “False.”

His tongue sweeps beside my bellybutton, sucking, bruising. My head tips back.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

If I wasn’t so distracted, so close to falling apart already, I’d laugh. His mouth is already moving lower, hands sliding my knees onto his shoulders. “Green,” I say, leaning back onto my elbows, not caring about the cold shock of the tiles as his warm bite finds my upper thigh.

“What kind of green?” his voice muffles, then his mouth is on me. He finds where I’m the most sensitive and sucks, causing a cry to catch in my throat and my hips to buck up to meet him.

I lie back completely as he softens the pressure, turning it into only pleasure.

I hand myself over to him, seeing only the stars and dark clouds roiling above.

“Green,” I gasp, “Green like… your eyes.” I know it's corny, and I don’t know if it’s even true.

But right now, as I look into the colourlessness of the night, feeling only his mouth, this heat, it’s the only green thing I can picture.

I give in utterly, give him everything. Before long, I’m trembling, breathing his name, coming apart.

When the stars are coming back into focus, Tristan pulls me back towards him, sliding my hips off the shelf and into the water.

As the warmth heats my skin, I realise how chilled the air really was, something I was numb to before.

My legs open around his torso as he slides me between him and the pool wall, hands on my waist, across my back.

He stills as his palm finds my lower back, across my spine, and the waterproof bandage there.

I can sense him frowning in the dark, his touch feathering lightly over the bandage. “What happened—” he starts to ask.

But I reach out, finding his soft lips with my fingers, stopping him. “Please. Not now. I only need this right now.”

For a moment he says and does nothing, and I wonder if I’ve lost his desire in this moment. Trading it for curiosity mingled with concern instead. I don’t want to leave this moment for that one, earlier today in the examination room, the pain even through the numbing shot.

But then he does as I ask. Tristan pulls me all the way into the water, belly to mine, hips flush. His erection is a hard rod between us, throbbing slightly at my body’s pressure on it. My hand falls away from his chin, mouth finding his lips instead.

Then he’s buried inside me, and neither of us has any more questions, any more words.

***

Needler

When I emailed this Marion woman, I don’t expect her to actually answer, much less agree to meet me. Then once the spot is chosen, a private booth at a café in Feston, I don’t expect her to show up.