Sweet Temptation (The Sweet Trilogy #4)(28)
I can see from Anna’s frown that my explanations disturb her and her ideas of right and wrong and justice, but she needs to know.
And then there’s Kopano, son of the Duke of Wrath. He is more difficult to explain. My feelings toward him are a tightly wound bundle of admiration and jealousy.
Kope was trained at eleven and worked several years until having an extreme change of heart. As a young teen he defied his father and refused to work any longer. With anyone else, this would have resulted in death, but Duke Alocer turns a blind eye to his son’s defiance. None of the Dukes know about Kopano’s resistance of his wrathful nature. Only our small group knows.
To make matters more insane, Kopano not only suffers from the sin of wrath, but he’s also inflicted with the sin of lust, which his father promoted hundreds of years ago before my father was brought to earth to take some of the load. I am the only Neph who knows this, because I figured it out on my own. How he fights against two urges is beyond me.
To be honest, I’d prefer to never be around Kope, because his presence is maddening. So bloody noble he makes me ill. I try to keep my voice even as I tell Anna about Kope. I’m careful to leave out the lust part.
Anna is watching me too carefully as I explain Kopano’s situation, and I wonder if I’ve sparked too much interest in him. The two of them would make the perfect saintly Neph pair, a thought that sends a burn through my chest. I wait for Anna to say something like, “If he can go against his nature, why can’t you?” or some shite that will send me off the deep end again. It’s just not that simple.
“Kope is a mystery,” I quickly say with finality.
I’m relieved when she lets it drop.
A lot of lust lives in Hollywood, along with every other sin. Some areas of the city are a cesspool of funk and desperation. An ugly part of me stirs when I think about diving headfirst into what’s being offered, but I shake the dark thought away, afraid Anna will be able to sense it. Then I look over and see that she’s pressed back into her seat, her forehead tense.
Oh, no. Is she feeling all of this? The thought that Anna, with all her positive energy, is taking in all the negativity given off by these people makes me want to roll over all of these convertibles and get her the hell out of here. I have no idea where this protective instinct has come from, but I can’t control it.
“Is it too much for you here?” I ask.
“It’s hard,” she admits. “But not because it’s Hollywood. Even Atlanta is hard for me sometimes.”
She’s downplaying it.
“I’ll get us out of here,” I say. When we stop at a light, I scroll through my mobile’s GPS for the best side street to get us off the main road.
I hear a click and zip and look over to see Anna opening her wallet. What the? Tell me she’s not giving money to one of those celebrity home tour scammers. I peer over and see who she’s staring at. An old, homeless woman.
Don’t, I think to myself. That kind of giving act makes blokes like me squirm with discomfort. It’s too much.
“You’re wasting your money,” I say. The woman’s probably a drunk or something.
“Maybe,” Anna whispers. “Maybe not.”
I hold my breath and watch in awe as Anna rolls down the window and the woman makes her way to the car. The way they stare at each other sends a chill down my spine.
“God bless you,” the woman says to Anna as she takes the money. Her aura is clear and grateful, which means she’s not high or drunk, as I’d suspected. Before she can turn to leave, Anna is opening her purse and dumping out all of the money into the woman’s hands.
I’m an outsider watching their intimate exchange, but I can’t look away. I’ve never seen anything like this happen between two strangers. Complete openness. Selflessness. Thankfulness.
I feel strange. The woman walks away and Anna rolls her window up. She seems at peace for a moment, and then she looks back down at her wallet and her face falls.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was presumptuous of me. But she—”
“What on earth are you apologizing for?” My eyes roam her beautiful face, her tied-back hair, her swirled badge. She drops her eyes and I realize she feels bad because now I’ll have to cover her expenses. It must’ve given her some sense of comfort to know she could pay for something if necessary.
I tear my eyes from Anna and back to the road when the light turns. My hands tingle, and it’s spreading. My heart is beating entirely too hard as unfamiliar feelings swell to an alarming size, filling every available space of my body and soul.
I’m nervous and excited all at once. I want her. I want Anna with every hot-blooded cell of my body, and I wish I could say it was only lust. Lust is familiar. What I’m feeling is huge and frightening and altogether unfamiliar. I want more than her skin and touch. I want all of her—all the madness that goes along with a female—the small touches and laughter, the talking after the hookup, the phone calls and hand-holding. I want it more than I’ve ever needed sex.
Bugger. Shite. No. This is too much for me. I am freaking out.
And then I nearly slam on the brakes and shout. Up ahead on the boulevard is a shadowy demon spirit. It takes all my control not to panic and bust a U-turn in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard, bunging up every car in my path, but that would draw even more attention. So I keep calm as I speak.