Page 60 of Ignited

“I looked up what happened. The library had all the old news stories, in their files.”

“Those reporters didn’t know shit about what happened. They tried to blame my brother.”

“But he didn’t do it?”

“Of course he didn’t do it.” But the answer was too quick, like he was trying to convince himself more than her. And his brother was a killer. A soldier, and a sniper. Maybe he didn’t enjoy it, but he didn’t seem to feel bad about it, either.

But then, maybe he did. Maybe that was the dark thing eating him up inside.

Boomer added, “And we don’t talk about my dad. Ever. So just drop it.”

His face was still shut down, showing nothing, but Karisma could feel that dark place in him growing, getting almost frantic, like a tentacled monster clawing at his insides.

“Boomer—”

“I said drop it!” His voice was a snarl. “And if you ever say anything to my brother…”

Was that what was driving his brother so crazy? she wondered. Guilt over murdering their father?

But whatever it was, it was tearing Boomer apart.

“I won’t.” She put her hand on his arm, felt it rigid with tension. “I just hate that it’s eating you up inside. I wish there was something I could do.”

He always acted so happy-go-lucky, like nothing was serious to him, but inside, he took on everything. His brother. Her. All those people who needed saving.

He was growling now, his breath coming harder. “Shit,” he muttered. “I thought running would help. I thought…”

Karisma couldn’t stand it anymore. She put her arms around him, the skin of his bare chest warm under her hands. “Shh,” she said. “Shh. It’s okay.”

Boomer’s arms closed around her, holding her close, rocking back and forth a little. “It is so fucking not okay.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t let go. You’re the only thing holding me together.” And he kissed her.

Chapter 25

Boomer walked forward until Karisma’s back hit the front of one of the long cabinets, shaking it to its foundation.

He hoped there were no unstable explosives inside, because if there were, they were both going up like Fourth of July fireworks.

But what a way to go.

Her lips were hot under his, her breasts soft against him, her hands urgent. He plundered her mouth, sucking her lower lip, listening to her moan as she felt the tiniest scrape of his teeth.

He captured her hands in one of his, pinning them against the cabinet as he moved his mouth across her cheek, down the column of her neck, biting the tendon all the way down, feeling the growl rise up in his chest.

He wanted to devour her.

He returned to her mouth, his free hand wrapping around her neck, digging his fingers into her hair.

She tasted so good, like berries and passionfruit, more intoxicating than whiskey.

One night. They’d had one night before they had to do that damn spell, and it hadn’t been enough. It would never be enough—she was full of dark mysteries and wild heat and unpredictable passions.

Explosive.

He didn’t know how the hell he’d held himself back this long. Or why he’d thought she didn’t want him.