Chapter 2

I pulled into a gas station a few miles away from Axtell, Kansas. It had been a long drive through old country roads and back ways to avoid attention from police, but I'd be home in just over 2 hours so it was worth it in every way. I'd get to hug the boys again and fill them in on everything that had happened. A smile crossed my lips as I remembered the first time I'd come back from one of these trips on the other side. We'd all been so confused.

I had woken up in control of Elizabeth Castle, a 19-year-old girl from Utah, after I'd been struck down by a djin during a hunt. I thought I'd died but very quickly figured out this was not the case. Days were spent in this weird new world, existing in the back of this girl's mind, watching a whole different life unfold around me. It was a whole month before I got back to me. By then the boys had buried me and I had to crawl my way up from the dirt. Thank god they hadn't given me a proper send-off. Remembering the looks on their faces when I came in through the door of the bunker made me laugh. Dean had nearly shot me with a salt gun and Sam had fallen backward out of his chair.

The gas line clicked, bringing me back to the present and letting me know the tank was full. I hung the line and walked into the gas station to buy a newspaper and some snacks for the road. I thanked the clerk and opened the paper to the not-so-popular 'conspiracy and supernatural happenings' page. With my head in the pages, I barely registered the sounds of a motorcycle passing on the road in front of me, but it wasn't anything to worry about. It was getting late, probably just someone trying to get home from work after a busy day.

I scanned the paper for anything worth noting but didn't find anything good. It was the usual Mothman sightings, people were saying it had made a dam break and flood a local town, and a passage about a fire that everyone thought was started by a phoenix, but I knew those were extinct so I paid no mind to it.

I sighed and threw the paper onto the passenger seat and popped a pop tart into my mouth before taking off down the road again. I wanted to make it a little further into Kansas before calling it a night.

I rolled into Washington, Kansas a little after midnight. I found the closest motel and bought a cheap room for the night. The man at the desk had given me creepy vibes so I'd have to make sure to check the lock on the door before going to bed. I hated traveling alone. It always invited unwanted attention.

I threw myself onto a bed and pulled my phone from my pocket, sending a quick text to Sam to let him know I was still ok. I hadn't checked in all day and I'd be kicking myself for it when I saw them tomorrow.

'Hey. Still alive. Made it to Washington. Gonna sleep at Washington Motel then finish the drive in the morning. See you soon. Tell Dean to calm his tits. I'm ok.'

I hit send and tossed it onto the nightstand next to the bed. I sighed and threw my dirty clothes onto the other bed, preferring to sleep in just my underwear than clothes I'd worn for weeks at this point. I stuffed the serrated knife under my pillow before laying down and slipping into unconsciousness.

I jolted awake, pulling the knife from under my pillow in one swift move and holding it across the throat of the intruder who hovered over me. For a few seconds, all I could hear was the pounding of a rainstorm outside the window and our breathing. A bolt of lightning illuminated the room and shone in those deadly mercury eyes.

"I should've known," I said, my grip on the knife tightening, "What do you want?"

"You really thought you got away that cleanly?" Ketch smirked.

"I thought you would have at least gotten the message that I was done with you and your little game." I glared at him, this man dared to not only kidnap me at my weakest point but then show up in my motel room in the middle of the night.

"Why don't you get rid of your little knife, we both know you're not going to kill me, love." He was as cocky as ever. Fucking bastard.

"How'd you find me?" I didn't lower the knife.

"You were easy enough to follow. Tracked my car through the trackers on it and then simply followed the path a Winchester would take." He chuckled, "Stealing a car within a mile of where you ditched mine was a strange move to make for someone who was trying to hide. You must have wanted to be found." His hand reached for mine.

"Don't." It was a demand he didn't follow, "I'll slit your throat."

"No, you won't." He pulled my hand away from him, taking the knife off his throat. "That's better."

"Why are you here? You could've gotten another room and followed me in the morning." Why was my heart beating so fast? He was dangerous. A psychotic killer. This wasn't attractive. Yet I could feel my body flush. What was wrong with me?

"And miss a chance to sleep next to you? Not after last time." His voice was thick with charm. It was almost sickening.

"I don't understand you," I said.

"I think you do," He held my gaze with his, "You might act all innocent, but you're not."

My hand clenched around the handle of the blade I still held, his grip still around mine. Was this fear? Had he scared me? Then again, I knew what fear felt like, I didn't feel it often anymore, and this felt nothing like it. This felt like a flickering flame.

"I was working very hard to find answers for my new employer. And then you show up," He said, "All innocent and sweet and unsuspecting. I knew what you were doing, even if you didn't"

I frowned, "I'm not innocent or sweet, so stop calling me that."

Physical desire was building up inside of me. He always had this effect on me. It was like he was an addicting drug that I needed so desperately to quit. I wanted to go to him, sit very close and look into those silver pools, watch them darken. To see what would happen if I put myself further within his reach. Would he touch me? I wanted to find out.

"You're both of those things, Winchester. Because if you weren't, you would have slit my throat open the moment you saw it was me."

I stared at him, feeling that humming tension between us. He was provoking me, but I couldn't find the strength to push him away and out of my life.

Suddenly he was right in front of me. His gaze was level, his hand still in a fist pinning mine and the knife hilt to the bed. "I'm not here to fight, love." He said flatly, "Whatever you or your brothers might think of me. So if that's what you're worried about, don't be."

I could smell his cologne again. A seductive combination of amber, gunpowder, teakwood, and musk. I could feel the heat building in my body. How far would this go? Would it go all the way again?

I shouldn't be curious. I shouldn't want this.

My pulse was beating faster, and I couldn't stop my breathing from quickening. This wasn't fear, that much I was certain of.

"I'm not worried," I said, and because I couldn't help it, "What are you so curious about? Are you curious about whether or not you can make me beg again? How you, a psychopath, could make a Winchester beg?"

His mouth opened, then closed again. His hand tightened over mine. I wasn't sure if it was because he was holding himself back or whether he was angered by my suggestion.

I knew I'd made a mistake by saying anything, but I wanted to see what he would do. And besides, it had been a while since I'd indulged in something like this.

You want him to do more than flirt with you. You want his touch.

The thought wound seductively through my head. I couldn't deny it any longer. But still, he was dangerous and had tried to kill them. He was employed by someone who wanted to use my whole family for something evil. All very good reasons I should stop this now. All reasons I shouldn't encourage him.

"No," He said tightly, "I'm not interested in that, love."

Except his gaze didn't falter, as if we were both in a trance.

"Maybe not," Why was I so tense? Holding myself still. It was like my body didn't trust itself to move. "Or maybe you're just scared."

"I would never be scared of you," He drew closer, "And you should stop being so manipulating."

Of course, he saw through me. He wasn't stupid.

"Am I? Or are you letting me? Maybe I should tell you to go. Put us both out of this misery."

It would have been easier if he'd just gotten up and left. But of course, he didn't. Instead, he held my gaze. "What misery, love?'

"The misery of wanting to touch a man I shouldn't." I instantly regretted the words, because I shouldn't be explaining myself to him.

But it was too late to take it back now.

His eyes searched me like a predator looking over his prey. No, it was like two predators facing off. I watched him shift, tracking every movement.

Dean would be so mad. He'd never understand.

He would. But only if I did something about this situation. We were only talking, and talking didn't hurt. Neither would my honesty. I was still completely in control.

"I'm not the right man for someone like you, love."

If he really thought that he wouldn't still be sitting here.

"Someone like me?" I echoed, "What does that mean?"

"Isn't it obvious? You were brought up by hunters. You're stubborn. You're innocent. Sweet. Kind. I am none of those things."

I frowned. "Just because I was raised by men who don't know anything about how to control their emotions, doesn't mean I don't know how to use mine to an advantage."

The way he still thought of me that way went straight to my brain. It awoke a hungry thing inside of me. Made me want to close the space between us, rip away his clothes, and show him exactly how innocent I was. The heat in his piercing silver eyes was powerful, but the aching, breathless tension that sat between us, that had surrounded his taut, powerful figure as he'd leaned closer to me, was starting to become too much.

I knew I should push him away and be done with this, but I wasn't. Every nerve-ending in my body had seemed to come awake as he stared at me, as his voice surrounded me. It made me feel hot, turning the fluttering flame inside of me into an electric thrill. Making me wonder whether or not a woman like me could control such a man.

I shouldn't be thinking such things. I should kick his ass to the curb and sleep soundly the rest of the night. I should pull away from his grip and slash a hole in his neck.

Yet I couldn't find the strength. I found my gaze pinned by those electric silver eyes, my awareness stretching out to take in all of his muscular form. The sinews in his forearm stretched, and the fabric of his shirt stretched over powerful shoulders. His shirt was open at the throat and my mouth had gone dry at the sight of his bare ivory skin and the strong steady beat of his pulse.

I was attracted to him; I was aware of that now in a way I had never been. I had so many forbidden thoughts running through my head. What would happen if I got closer? What would he do?

I shouldn't touch him, I knew that above everything else. He was a killer and it had been my job once to make sure he was dead. I had screwed that up already. I didn't need to screw this up more.

My breathing was quick now, my skin sensitized. I did want to touch him. I did not want to send him away.

"I don't want you to leave," I said, barely above a whisper.

"Maybe you don't understand then." His deep, harsh voice sounded rough like he was trying just as hard to say no. "You should be done with me. I should leave."

"That sounded like an order, I'm horrible about listening to orders."

"What are you thinking, love?" his voice was almost a growl.

"I was thinking, maybe just once more." I tipped my head to the side, staring deep into his silver eyes.

Before I could think better of it, I put my free hand on his chest. His eyes flared with a new heat that took my breath away. Or maybe it was the heat of his body that did it. It seeped through the cotton of his shirt and into the palm of my hand. He was hard as iron but warm, like a living rock. All the air had escaped my lungs, and what I could breathe in all smelled like him. It sent my heart racing.

"You shouldn't say that."

"Why not? What are you going to do?"

He was still for a second. Then he said "This."

And before I could blink, he'd pushed his fingers into my hair, pulled my head back, and covered my mouth with his. He was so gentle like he was holding something precious.

I couldn't fool myself anymore. Everything I had told myself was a lie. I did want this. I had imagined this. But I'd told myself it would never work, so I'd shoved the thoughts away and pretended they didn't exist. But now he was here and his mouth was on mine and this kiss was consuming me, making me aware of everything I'd never had.

I wanted this. I wanted all of it.

I slipped my other hand out from under his, letting the knife fall away, and placed it on his chest, taking him for myself. I pushed into him, opening my mouth to him. He tasted hot, but there was a coolness from some drink he'd had before, and it was delicious.

A soft moan escaped my lips as the kiss deepened and he began to explore my mouth with his tongue and teeth, tasting me as I tasted him, giving gentle nips, testing me with his tongue.

My fingers closed around his shirt, gripping the warm cotton, and I felt his hand close around my hair in answer. The tug on it felt so good, small bolts of sensation that made my breath catch, what little there was left of it. He was taking it all, and I didn't care. I'd give it all to him. Everything he wanted.

It felt like I'd been waiting for this my whole life like I'd found a missing part.

"We have to stop," Ketch whispered roughly against my mouth.

No, I didn't want to stop. I clung to him, seeking his mouth, trying to follow as he pulled away from me. But his grip on my head kept me still.

The silver of his eyes was electric, blazing with heat, but there was only iron in his voice when he spoke. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" There was a huskiness to my voice. I couldn't make my hands work, my fingers keeping their grip on his shirt.

The flame in his eyes burned everywhere it touched. "There are too many reasons."

"I don't care." I didn't want to give him up. "Please, Arthur."

"Alex…"

"I want you. Please. I need this. I need you."

"You don't know what you're asking me."

"Then show me." I leaned into him, finally releasing my hold on his shirt, spreading my hands out on the hard warmth of his chest, pressing into it, loving the feel of him under my palms. "Arthur, please."

He muttered a curse under his breath, a rough sound that echoed through me. His body tensed, his muscles tight, and I wanted to run my hands all over him, to soothe him. Did he have anyone to do that for him? Did he have anyone to ease that tension? Did he have anyone who gave him pleasure?

He's probably had hundreds of women, you idiot. He could have anyone he wants.

But he was here now. Here with me. And it was my hair he had his hand in, my hands on his chest. And it was me he was looking at.

"Your brothers will kill me," he said.

"You've survived them before." I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving now. Taking his warmth and strength with him. "I want you so much."

His other hand cupped my cheek. For all his strength he was gentle, his palm was warm and reassuring. "Alex." He said my name huskily, the sound of it whispered over me, his face softening. "You'll regret this when it's over. You won't like it."

"Don't tell me how I'll feel. You don't know me."

"And what happens after? Do we go back to hating one another? Do you act like it never happened? Because that's what has happened. You can't be my lover. Our paths don't cross that way. My job is to kill people and that includes you." His face was serious now, but his eyes still held that heat.

"I understand," I said thickly, "I really do."

"Do you?" His voice had become harsh. "This could look bad on us. We would both be looked at with suspicion for sleeping with an enemy."

I hadn't thought of that. But it was true. His employer would most likely hurt him, and my brothers would never understand. They'd think I'd given him information or changed sides as mom had. I leaned away from him.

His hand tightened in my hair. "I didn't say no."

Keeping my gaze, he lowered his hand from my cheek, dropping it to the small of my back and settling it there, heavy and sure. Then he pulled me closer, fitting me against him.

He felt so good, hard and hot, and so strong. I wanted to surround myself with the heat, with his power and strength, and have him burn away the ice that sat around my heart. I understood the consequences and I didn't care. I wanted him. I wanted this moment because I knew it would probably never happen again.

So I didn't think and I didn't hesitate. I slid my hands up his broad chest and around his neck, rising to my knees, and claimed his mouth, giving him an answer.

I shouldn't have touched him, shouldn't have let him kiss me. Because it was over from that moment. But I'd never thought I'd want him so badly. It had been so long since I'd had a kiss this sweet. This tantalizing and delicious.

His body was hard and rough against mine, his musky scent winding around me, it made me ache for him. I wanted to sink into him, take all of the bitterness from him. He pushed his fingers further into my hair, holding me steady to take our kiss deeper. I pressed delicately into him, trying to kiss him back. My tongue explored his mouth as much as he explored mine.

He shifted, taking me into his arms and pulling me into his lap. He ran his hands down my back, soothing me at the same time he searched for the clasp to my bra. I sighed as the tight fabric was released. I reached out to unbutton his shirt, but he was faster, pulling the straps off my shoulders. Then he touched me, stroking his hands beneath my bra and over my skin. I gasped against his mouth, shuddering in delight. A breathy moan escaped as he trailed his fingers down the length of my spine. There was no hesitation, no alarm. It was like I trusted him with my everything.

But this would be it. This would be the last time. So why not enjoy it? Why not give him everything and take everything he gave in return? It was the pleasure I deserved after all. So we controlled our hunger. Simply sat, kissing lazily as he stroked my back up and down and I got used to his touch again. My hands moved to his shirt again and fumbled with the buttons.

I could tell it was difficult for him to let me undo them one by one and uncover him, but he let the pace be set regardless. It was an amazing feeling to run my cool fingers over his bare chest, tracing the muscles of his chest and abdomen. I was mesmerized by him like I was seeing him in a whole new light.

He shifted one hand into my hair again and pulled me back. "Lift your arms," he ordered quietly.

I didn't hesitate to obey and allowed him to slip my bra off my arms. And then I was sitting on him, naked save for my soft white panties. I locked eyes with him again and stared into those dark tarnished silver pools.

He slid one hand to the small of my back, spreading his palm out, cradling me as he urged me towards him again. Then he eased his other hand to my hip, trailing his fingers up my warm skin, making me shiver, and he came higher and higher until he found the curve of one full breast.

I gasped against his mouth, my body arching as he cupped my breast gently, then a moan escaped as he circled my nipple with his thumb.

"Oh…" The word was soft, a breath, "Oh…Ketch…"

"Call me by my name," he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive tip of my breast, making me shudder. "I'm not your enemy right now."

I sighed, arching into his hand, wanting to hold nothing back from him. "Arthur…" His name came out like a prayer. He ran his thumb over my nipple again and I repeated the call. It was a plea, a cry for more.

So he gave it to me, stroking my breast, toying gently with my nipple as he kissed me, exploring my mouth. And then, when I was panting, he eased me back across his arm and put his lips to my throat.

I trembled, I could feel his tongue against my pulse. But he held me still, going slowly as he trailed kisses over the delicate architecture of my collarbones, then further down, to the swell of my breasts, tracing curves with his lips, before moving on to one hard nipple. He teased it, circling it with his tongue, which made me gasp his name again. Then he took it into his mouth, holding me as he sucked gently.

A moan escaped me, throaty and soft, and my hands went to his shoulders, gripping him. "Arthur…please…"

We smelled like sex. Everything was so warm, so soft, and sweet. I had never realized these were things I'd craved until now. I wanted more. I wanted to spend time tasting every inch of his body, to take my time, because this moment wouldn't last.

This could only be now. But that was probably a good thing. I could already feel how hard he was. If we weren't careful, this could become addicting.

So don't let it.

It wouldn't. He might push my physical control, but that was all. He didn't affect anything else. This was sex, nothing more.

His attention switched to my other breast, sliding one hand from around my hip down to my thigh and stroking gently, before moving inward and up, then between.

I went still as his fingers brushed over the damp fabric, stroking the heat behind the cotton, and my breath escaped in a wild rush.

"Oh, yes," I gasped, "Oh, yes, please."

There was delight behind the way I said it and so much desperation. He tightened his arm around me, drawing me closer so our bare chests touched. Then he stretched his fingers out between my thighs, stroking me over the fabric of my panties, making me gasp and squirm and wriggle against him.

"Do you want more?" he demanded, his own voice so rough it didn't sound like him. "Is that what you want? More of me touching you?"

"Yes," I gasped, "Yes, please."

He hooked one finger around the fabric and pulled it aside. Then he stroked his fingertips through the soft nest of curls between my thighs, the folds of my sex hot and wet just for him.

I moaned, my hands gripping his shoulders tighter as if I would fall if I let go, my breathing coming in short pants. My hips twisted, following his hands as he caressed me, teasing and stroking the most sensitive parts. And then he was testing the entrance to my body gently, pushing one finger in.

I shuddered, my hips shifting on his lap as I was trying to find some relief. But there wouldn't be any. None except what he gave me.

"Arthur," I said hoarsely, my fingers digging hard into his shoulders, "Please…I need…I can't…"

I wanted him to push me down into the bed, and take me hard and quick. But this would be the last time and the thought of it ending too quickly was bleak and pushed to the side. All I wanted was for this to be good. I wanted to remember it. Remember him.

Why should you care?

I didn't know. But I wanted to.

I was shaking in his arms now, moaning against his mouth, as he kept his hand between my thighs, his fingers sliding in a rhythm that made me shake even harder. Then he pressed down on the most sensitive part of me with his thumb, just a small brush. And he held me against him as I convulsed, a cry of pleasure escaping as the orgasm washed through me.

He let me sit there for a minute, running one hand up and down my back in a soothing way, easing me down. There was something sweet about the way he held me there in his arms.

"Please tell me there's more," I said, my voice scratchy.

"Yes, love." He murmured, impatient sounding, "There's more." Then he moved, taking me down onto the bed beneath him. "There's a lot more."