Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(40)

An interminable string of expletives poured from his lips, which would have made any woman blush. Instead, she shot him.

Three times.

In the back.

He bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry. But who could blame him if he did? After all, she was shooting at point-blank range. What type of man cried after his fiancée shot him with a paintball gun?

In order to cover his impending tears, he glared at her with watery eyes and felt like strangling the woman smugly grinning back. “Who are you?” he accused her through clenched teeth.

She blew the top of her gun as if it were smoking, then answered, “National Paintball Champion 2011, sucker. Oh, and Christian?”

He spun back to face her.

“I suggest you wear a costume for tonight’s entertainments.”

He kicked a rock, sending it sailing through the air, and tried heartily not to wince as he limped back to the tower.

Nick’s voice boomed across the field. “Christian, you’ve been hit at point blank three times. Our winner is Kessen!”

Kessen then proceeded to throw her gun in the air while singing, “I am the champion, my friend! And I’ll keep on fighting till the end.” Her gun then turned into an air guitar she played expertly, which made him assume it would also be a poor idea to challenge her to a Guitar Hero tournament.

Duncan was lying on his stomach with an ice pack on his backside, while Nick was helping Christian peel off his shirt, so he could take a look at the already rapidly expanding welts on his back.

Kessen dropped her air guitar when his shirt was completely off.

“What? You’ve never seen a man so fit before?” Christian teased.

Only her eyes held concern.

“Christian, I’m so sorry!”

His pride stung a little when she didn’t comment on his body. Women always commented … apparently not women like Kessen.

“You have a giant welt!” She put her hands over her mouth, covering a smile.

He cursed when Duncan touched it. “Are you happy now, Kessen? If I wasn’t so injured, I would ask for a rematch.”

She let out a snort. “How very brave of you, Christian. I’ll keep that in mind when your bruises finally heal.”

“Hold me back, Nick. I’m going to strike a woman.”

Duncan piped up. “Don’t upset the beast; she’ll make it worse. Leave her be. For the love of all that is holy, leave her be!”

“Are you crying?” Kessen asked mockingly.

“No.” Duncan sniffed. “I just have dirt in my eyes.”

Nick snickered. “Both of them?”

Duncan groaned. “I won’t sit for weeks.”

“Well, I believe my rib is broken,” Christian interjected. “Thanks to Kessen.”

“Sorry I didn’t warn you. I don’t think you would have believed me anyway,” she said, approaching him cautiously. How was it fair she had escaped unscathed?

“Mark my words, Kessen. I will find a game you’re terrible at, and then we’ll see who’s sorry.” Christian winced again as Nick applied a salve.

Kessen licked her lips and suddenly Christian forgot about the pain. He wanted to consume her, and God help him, he wanted her even with camouflage paint all over her face. Closing his eyes did nothing to erase the image of her from his mind. When he opened them again, she was standing directly in front of him, so close he could smell the mint gum she had been chewing.

He gulped.

She reached up and laid a single finger on his lips. “Don’t forget, you’re mine tonight. Don’t be late.”

His mouth dropped open as she sauntered off. He couldn’t help but stare at her perfect form. Swearing again, he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Close your mouth, Christian,” Duncan said, pushing himself painfully up from the ground. “It looks like we have an evening for Kessen planned, eh blokes?”

It was Nick’s turn to swear, Christian’s turn to wince, and Duncan’s turn to lean on both of them as they hobbled back to the house.





Chapter Eighteen


It took Christian at least an hour to get changed out of his clothes, a result of his battle wounds, no doubt. Every time he moved his arms, he felt another stab of pain all the way down his back. It wouldn’t surprise him if his entire back was black and blue. Who shot someone at point-blank range anyway? “Of all the heartless, menacing…” he mumbled to himself, then heard a throat clear.

“Ah, the inevitable interruption,” he said turning. “Oh, it’s you.”

Kessen smirked. “Yes, I was just delivering your costume.”

Christian decided speaking was out of the question, considering his current vocabulary was made up entirely of four-letter words.

She handed him a bag and smiled. “Open it.”

“Is anything going to attack me?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Or will a bomb explode in my face?”

She laughed heartily. “No, nothing like that. Be a man and open the bag.” Her hands were on her hips in ultimate challenge style.

A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled open the brown bag. Inside was an I heart New York t-shirt, a ballerina skirt, and a tiara.

“What in the—?” he started to say then clamped his mouth shut. “Costume?” he repeated again.