A/N: Next chapter. Enjoy. Comments appreciated.
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Chapter title courtesy of the awesome song by Trapt.
Chapter Five
__________________________________________________________________________
Headstrong
Coffee House
Prague, August 9th, 2003
She stood just within the entrance of the homey little cafe,` its heat warming chill flesh, soothing the goosebumps pimpled against otherwise unblemished skin. The raging storm outside, unrelenting in its violence, had left her saturated and trembling in the brief moments she'd dashed from the shelter of a nearby shop to this quaint little building.
Black lycra encased a well-rounded and distinctly feminine body, clinging to each soft curve, pausing just shy of dark shorts. Both shapely arms protruded bare and glistening from the sleeveless top, marred only by the bandage fixed over her new injury, Kurtis' shirt piece long since replaced.
The door slipped closed behind her.
Her new attire, purchased only an hour or so before along with several other necessities, lay heavy and damp against supple curves. *Hardly proper clothes for this shitty weather.* Lara thought. *But proper tomb-raiding apparel.*
She tread the polished wood floor with hardly a sound, boots slipping unnoticed across hard planking.
After a quick detour to the front counter to order coffee, she slipped into the farthest booth, grateful for its comfort.
She perused the shop through narrowed eyes, feeling distinctly vulnerable without the familiar weight of a handy pistol or two strapped to her thighs. *Kurtis still owes me a weapon. And he'd better deliver, or I'm going to think up some really nasty form of torture.*
The thought of the enigmatic Lux Veritatis initiate flushed high cheekbones in crimson brilliance, particularly after the event which had taken place earlier that morning.
They'd sought refuge in an abandoned apartment building the previous night, tired of running and in dire need of rest. The Nephilim had lost their trail and passed harmlessly on, leaving both grateful adventurers to slumber.
They'd slept beside one another, for nothing other than the benefit of the other's body heat, both keeping their respectful distance. *The distance didn't stay 'respectful' though.* Lara thought darkly, with a scowl. Upon awakening, she'd discovered, to her great chagrin and embarrassment, her entire body snuggled up against Kurtis,' their legs comfortably entangled, both of his strong and toned arms draped almost protectively across her lithe figure.
And his reaction to this...for a moment she'd entertained the thought that someone had snuck up behind him and jabbed a hot poker into his back, given the way he jerked immediately away.
But for one single moment, she'd glimpsed the true Kurtis in those beautiful thick-lashed eyes, the cold and artfully crafted wall normally blocking all emotions dissipating in that second of confusion.
It was a slip he wouldn't make again, Lara knew.
A steaming mug settled into place before her.
She cupped this offering in grateful hands, touching full lips to its rim for a cautious sip.
Burning liquid descended her throat, its torturous path rousing tears to blinking eyes for a second. The initial discomfort passed in a moment, and she savored its warmth, curling wisps of steam kissing cold flesh.
The shop's door burst open in a swirl of rain and blackness.
She didn't bother studying this broad-shouldered figure. She sensed his presence in the confident stride, glimpsing dark tousled hair out of the corner of one eye.
He tossed a sheaf of papers down in front of her. A newspaper, she realized.
His weight settled in beside her, their thighs brushing in a casual move which seemed extremely intimate to her.
"Drinking the real stuff, huh." Kurtis commented, indicating her coffee.
"Yes. None of that pansy flavored crap."
*He smells good. Not at all like you'd expect a smoker to smell.* She quickly admonished herself for that thought, and shifted away from him.
His hard body was completely sheathed from prying eyes today, no tantalizing glimpses of his broad sexy back revealed through shredded material. The slashed white T-shirt had been exchanged for a new black one, paired with a pair of pants which resembled the ones he'd worn during their adventures in Paris a few months ago. *They fit him well.* she thought. Then, a second later, *Dammit!*
"Front page." He tapped it with his finger, and clamped a cigarette between his teeth, patting himself down in search of a lighter.
She absently reached over and slipped it from between his lips, keen eyes perusing the newsprint.
"What the hell?" Kurtis demanded, making a grab for the slender object.
"Bad habit, you know. You should quit."
"You should stay out of my business. It's not your choice whether I smoke or not."
"Yes, but it is my choice to let you tag along, and I'd rather not be prancing around with some big ape who reeks of smoke."
Kurtis arched both thick eyebrows, and slammed his hand down on the paper, directly over the line she'd been reading.
Her eyes sought his own. "Do you mind?"
"Give me back my cigarette."
Lara dangled it smartly before him, with an infuriating smirk. "Take your hand off my paper then."
"It's not your paper. I bought it."
"Yes, and then you threw it down in front of me and told me to read the front page. That indicated that you were relinquishing ownership of it."
"And did I do that with my cigarette? No." he replied, the first sharpness she'd ever perceived in this casual and unshakable man appearing in his somewhat irritable tone.
*Someone got up on the wrong side of bed today.*
It was a childish move, rendered more out of a wish to further aggravate him than because she wanted him to quit slowly killing himself.
Coarse paper slipped with a quiet whisper across full lips, it's passage tracked by startled cerulean orbs. His gaze surged to twine as one with her own, slightly less angry now, the curtain settling over those beautiful eyes once more, as though Kurtis realized he'd lost control unnecessarily. Full lips curved in a slight smile, the expression doing nothing to sheath the triumph swirling within thick-lashed orbs.
Lara smirked again, and deftly slipped his cigarette down the front of her tank top.
Kurtis followed its progress, his eyes lingering against her ample chest, as though he could maneuver the stolen cigarette from her body through telekinesis, much the same way he manipulated his Chigurai.
Her hand slipped over his atop the paper, and squeezed unnaturally hard.
His gaze returned to her face.
"And please, no attempts to retrieve it. You seem to be a man of fair intelligence, Kurtis, and I think we both know a move like that would be very, very unwise."
He smirked. "Who said I wanted to stick my hand down there anyway?" *Then again, who said I didn't?*
"Bitch." he murmured, no fury present within his low voice. Then, removing his hand from where it lay beneath hers, he retrieved another cigarette from the right back pocket of his pants.
"Bastard." she returned. "Smelly bastard." Lara amended, upon catching sight of the new tightly rolled paper object gripped in masculine fingers.
He smirked around the cigarette, setting his lighter on top of the burnished wood tabletop. "Nice place."
"Yes. No doubt a ruse to scare away the nasty dregs of society such as yourself."
"Please, you're killing me with compliments."
"Well if that's the case, I'll have to keep them coming."
He refrained from replying, instead turning his attention on his smoke, the lighter flaming to life beneath his touch.
" 'Luther Rouzic, keeper of the Strahov Archives for more than twenty years, found murdered late last night.' They certainly didn't waste any time, did they?"
"Good news travels fast." Kurtis replied with a shrug. The lighter died into reluctant oblivion, the cigarette's end still untouched by its brilliance.
She slipped a quick look sideways at him, dark gaze traversing the handsome, pensive planes of his face. "Anything on your mind?"
"No." The reply came sharply, brusquely.
She nodded thoughtfully. "I suspected as much."
He glanced startled over at her, seeming vaguely surprised at the insult she'd just worked in so subtly. And as he perused her lovely face, Kurtis felt a growing admiration for this woman rising inside, even as a part of him warned that this admiration was not welcome, that as a strictly 'business' relationship there was no room for admiration, and certainly not for lust.
The air hung thick between them, a sizzling magnetism present within the heavy atmosphere. A fleeting image of the Louvre skittered briefly throughout her mind, this scene disturbingly familiar in the closeness of his face and the soft fan of his breath against her cheek.
He slipped a hand across one softly rounded shoulder, fingertips grazing satin flesh. His palm cupped the back of her neck, twining within the thick braid falling as burnished copper down the curve of Lara's back.
She swallowed hard.
His other hand released its claim on the fresh cigarette he clutched, and drifted lightly over the taut and tanned muscles of her abdomen. She felt its weight settle reluctantly against her right hip, curving possessively around a lithe and slender waist.
They leaned in as one, breaths mingling, long lashes cloaking desire-fogged orbs.
His scent assaulted her senses, a masculine aroma entirely his own. It lingered tantalizingly within flaring nostrils, its presence thrusting chills all throughout her.
She could nearly taste him, so close were they now. His breath surged warm and comforting over her face, its sweetness testament to the peppermint he'd apparently just consumed. *Maybe he planned this, and took a breath mint so his dragon fumes wouldn't frighten me off.* Lara thought vaguely.
She touched both leather-sheathed palms to his strong shoulders.
His eyes slipped closed.
*This is a public place, too. What will you do for an encore, Mr. Trent? Throw me down on the table and ravage me, you naughty man?*
Her fingertips dug harshly into the flesh beneath his T-shirt.
Kurtis jerked in surprise, both eyes flying open, cerulean gaze slightly lethargic.
Lara smiled, and placed her mouth close to his ear. He tensed automatically, shaking away this spell she seemed to have momentarily placed him under, prepared to tear himself away the moment her lips brushed his skin.
They never did.
"I told you, I don't kiss smokers." Lara whispered almost conspiratorially, and removed his hand from where it still lay now rigid against the smooth flesh of her stomach.
"You had something in your eye." Kurtis replied coolly.
"Did I? Well, thank you very much for attempting to save me from such a horrible affliction." she responded dryly.
He rose abruptly, collecting his lighter and discarded cigarette.
"Where the hell are you going?"
"I've got a few errands to run."
"And how am I going to know where to find you?"
"Same apartment. The one we spent the night in. We'll camp out there again." He lit his smoke this time, and inhaled deeply.
"Really. Well, maybe you enjoy sleeping in a crumbling old derelict building, but I'd prefer a hotel room."
"Better if we keep low. Whoever came after us in the Strahov Archives will be keeping an eye on any motels in town. I'm not keen on another showdown with those damn Nephilim. But if you happen to have an extra Periapt Shard on you, then you're welcome to find a place more satisfactory to your taste."
The heat of rage warmed her body, its flame igniting within each limb. "Don't be a dickhead. You wouldn't like dealing with me when I'm angry."
He returned her gaze coldly. "See you at home, *sweetheart*."
"Not if I put a boot to your head and knock you unconscious for being an impudent little asshole." Lara snapped, crossing both arms over her chest.
He seemed to be pondering a reply to this threat, then suddenly pivoted on a heel and stalked toward the door without so much as a "Good-bye" or even a stream of obscenities.
She resisted the urge to hurl her mug at his stupid, pointy, extremely irritating little head. *It wouldn't do any good.* Lara thought furiously.
* * *
Lab Cambodia, August 9th, 2003
Its bulk quivered minutely, bound to chill steel by leather straps.
Pallid flesh snapped upward to reveal ebony orbs frosted in death, thin colorless lips parting in a single soundless scream.
Mucus frothed to shrieking lips, bubbling over a sturdy chin, clotted phlegm crusting a hooked nose. The creature arched its back, spine flexing, each bone settling reluctantly into place.
Joachim Karel watched impassively, his apathetic features reflected in the creature's sightless gaze.
The foaming mucus churned to brilliant carmine as a blood vessel ruptured, its life-giving liquid mingling as one with saliva.
Death's shroud lifted from the spasming figure.
Frantic eyes rolled to contemplate the room's only other occupant, standing silent and motionless just before it.
A slight smile twitched cold lips.
Gore exploded upward from the creature's mouth, splashing hot and scalding against exposed flesh. It writhed anxiously against the table's coldness, crying out through blood-glazed lips.
"Welcome." Joachim Karel said, and reached to free it.
* * *
She watched his sleeping figure, the strong chest rising and falling with each gentle inhalation. His features lay bathed in moonlight, softened in slumber, almost idyllic, boyish in sleep. With those keen indigo eyes sheathed by smooth flesh, Lara felt she could almost completely relax. Their intensity carefully concealed, unseen now by her vigilant gaze. She felt powerful, in control, these emotions ones usually present inside her.
But in wake, those eyes held a power over her, one that she was coming to passionately dislike. Hate, even. No one had ever invoked such feelings in her before, rendered her nearly helpless with only a touch.
*I hate it.* she thought savagely, glaring at his slumbering body. *I hate him.*
And yet she knew she did not, that hate would be the last adequate word to describe her feelings toward him. This enigmatic man whom had already shared one of her more frightening and exhilarating adventures intrigued her. His brooding, the coldness he preferred to exhibit, and those goddamned eyes piqued her natural curiosity. Perhaps that was why she found herself so attracted to him; curiosity, an attribute which Lara had never been without, her entire life.
He remained a mystery, untouchable, much the same as the tombs and ancient cities she'd once scoured with a passion she'd never before experienced for a human being. Exploring, discovery. These had once been her great loves, and no man had ever come close to taking their place in her heart.
Kurtis sighed quietly, and shifted in sleep.
Lara perched close beside him, taking care that no part of their bodies touched. *I'd rather not have a repeat of yesterday morning.*
His heat warmed her, its fervor settling lightly against cold flesh and instantly banishing all traces of the surrounding damp and chill. She wanted to touch him, stroke the renegade bangs lying soaked across the curve of his forehead.
Her fingertips stretched outward, almost without thought on her part.
Then, with a scowl, Lara jerked her gloved hand back, with such violence anyone watching might have suspected he'd burned her. Nothing good had ever come of bodily contact between Lara Croft and Kurtis Trent.
* * *
*Flashback*
He entered cautiously, Boran X gripped two-handed, cerulean orbs narrowed in intense concentration. His gaze probed surrounding shadows for sign of danger, not a single corner escaping their thorough scrutiny.
His father's study lay in disarray.
The door swung mangled and dented from rusting hinges, this ominous squeak the only sound permeating near-silence.
Kurtis felt the thrumming of his heartbeat quicken, its frantic pounding drumming now with a violence that shuddered his entire ribcage. The thick acidity of bile rose within the warmth of his mouth.
He glided forward, weapon at the ready, a churning sickness roiling in his gut.
Glass cracked beneath his boots, each shard exploding with the viciousness of a fired gun. Grasping wind flowed through the shattered window, its covetous touch swirling around him.
He lay pale and motionless, his prone body partially cloaked by the over- turned desk. Carmine liquid twined full lips, traversing a strong chin to pool in the hollow of his throat.
Wide verdant orbs contemplated Kurtis as he dropped slowly to trembling knees.
The Boran X clattered forgotten to blood-stained wood.
Kurtis reached numbly to close his father's sightless eyes, fingers bucking and trembling violently. He swallowed hard around the lump crusting his throat, eyeing this man so familiar to him in life, the unmoving figure now nearly a stranger, so mutilated was it. This was not his father, this grisly visage before him, its neck bent at an odd angle, body ravaged and violated by ferocious hands. His father's lips lay against stark white skin, discolored and knotted in a final scream of horror. And his chest...his broad, muscular chest, marked by angry red slashes where nails had bitten deep, grazing the internal organs.
Tears were foreign to Kurtis Trent. There had never been any, not since he was a very small child. He'd trained himself against any such weakness, concealing anguish behind cold blue eyes and an empty smirk.
But they came now, silent, swift, tracing stubble-roughened cheekbones to linger salty and hot against parted lips. Both strong shoulders bobbed in agony, dark bangs falling unchecked over tightly closed eyes as he sobbed noiselessly.
The grief surged unrelenting throughout him, tearing at his insides, vicious in its travel. He clenched both damp palms to hard fists, head bowed over the desecrated corpse of his father.
Then, with a sudden and explosive "Fuck!" Kurtis surged to his feet, snatching up his weapon as he leapt upright. He peered through tear-dampened lashes, their weight resting heavy against his cheekbones.
The grief slowly dissipated, dwindling into oblivion, replaced now by a rage unlike any he'd ever known. He kicked at a smashed desk chair, the powerful thrust of his boot hurling it several feet to splinter against a nearby wall.
He spun, murder in those beautiful eyes, and slammed a fist into hard plaster.
The crack reverberated in sensitive ears, the wall fractionating beneath his violence.
He snapped the safety of his gun on, and jammed it into the holster at his side.
His rage carried him through the small room, like a bulldozer, eliminating everything in his path. Hard wood cracked and gave in response to his vicious attacks. He spun, his fury not yet sated, both hands shredded and bleeding.
He plunged the door free of its hinges in a single mighty kick.
This at last seemed to slow him, and he propped himself, panting, against the wall, trembling all over. He inhaled several calming breaths, coaxing his ragged breathing back to normal levels.
*I'm going to find who did this.*
If need be, he'd spend the rest of his life hunting the motherfucker who'd done this to his father. And when he succeeded, he'd rain death and destruction down upon them, rip their throat out with his bare hands if he could.
End Flashback
He woke slowly, to the warmth of tears on his cheekbones.
*What the hell?* Kurtis thought groggily, numbly swiping clinging liquid from his skin. He propped himself up on one elbow, squinting through sleep fogged eyes at his surroundings.
A soft rustle erupted to his left.
He rolled over, and his eyes settled on her peaceful face, beautiful features slack in rest. She lay a good distance away, obviously wary of a repeat performance of their little cuddling session yesterday morning. Her braid lay thick and glistening beneath a sheen of rainwater over one small shoulder, its brilliant copper highlighted by the moon's effulgence.
Kurtis studied her a moment, experiencing a softness for another human being for the first time in his life. It was a strange protectiveness he felt toward her, an urgent need to keep her safe when he knew perfectly well she was more than capable of looking after herself. As a man accustomed only to watching his own back and not really giving a shit about others, this was a new and somewhat frightening emotion.
*Next thing you know, I'm going to be proclaiming my love and begging her to marry me.* he thought scornfully, shaking his head and turning away.
He reached for the bag he'd been using for a pillow, and yanked it into his lap.
From the depths of his pack Kurtis withdrew a bent and weathered photograph, its edges lovingly worn by much handling. He held it gingerly, almost tentatively, examining handsome features similar to his own.
The photo had been taken long ago, depicting a five-year-old Kurtis perched atop his father's knee, beaming excitedly into the camera. How long had it been since he'd worn such an exuberant expression? There hadn't been such unadulterated happiness present within that bright and shining cerulean gaze for many years.
And since his father's death, the rage and darkness had built inside him, toughening an already hardened young man even further. He killed with less thought, and no remorse, dispatching his enemies with an almost unfeeling coldness. Only Eckhardt had awakened a spark within him, his father's murderer breathing life back into Kurtis' shut-away emotions more than anything else. Even Lara's appearance, and his attraction for her didn't make him feel as vividly as thoughts of Eckhardt still did.
He stroked the callused pad of his fingertip across the photo's surface, eyes lingering a moment longer. Then, expelling a quiet breath through his lips, he returned it to his waiting pack once more.
Lara stirred, and murmured something in slumber.
Kurtis extracted a slender black object from the zippered front pocket of his bag, then tossed the heavy pack aside. He stood, and crossed to her sleeping figure.
His gaze wandered slowly over the softly arched curve of her body, memorizing each detail, his nostrils flaring against the heady warmth of her scent. A shudder passed throughout her body, prompted by the chill air circulating throughout the old apartment.
He crouched at her side, and lightly set a hand against the bare flesh of her shoulder.
They were ill-equipped to deal with Prague's shitty weather, particularly in this drafty old place, and there were no blankets to be found. He'd searched the derelict building the night before precisely for that purpose, after seeing her shiver, and turned up empty-handed. Any furniture had been smashed nearly beyond recognition, any forgotten sheets or other bedding shredded beyond use. *Maybe I should have just rented a motel room. Those bastards are probably long gone, figuring we moved on to another city or something.*
He hefted the object in his hand, and slipped it into the holster strapped to one shapely leg.
"No more bitching about how I made you leave your gun behind, Lara." Kurtis whispered, lips curling slightly.
The strong hand on her shoulder moved tentatively to her forehead, lightly brushing aside loose strands of hair.
She shifted beneath his gentle touch, a sigh parting full lips.
He pulled away, and rose, turning his back on her and striding toward the opening in the far wall. *So much for keeping this business.* Kurtis thought grimly, and vanished into the waiting night.
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Chapter title courtesy of the awesome song by Trapt.
Chapter Five
__________________________________________________________________________
Headstrong
Coffee House
Prague, August 9th, 2003
She stood just within the entrance of the homey little cafe,` its heat warming chill flesh, soothing the goosebumps pimpled against otherwise unblemished skin. The raging storm outside, unrelenting in its violence, had left her saturated and trembling in the brief moments she'd dashed from the shelter of a nearby shop to this quaint little building.
Black lycra encased a well-rounded and distinctly feminine body, clinging to each soft curve, pausing just shy of dark shorts. Both shapely arms protruded bare and glistening from the sleeveless top, marred only by the bandage fixed over her new injury, Kurtis' shirt piece long since replaced.
The door slipped closed behind her.
Her new attire, purchased only an hour or so before along with several other necessities, lay heavy and damp against supple curves. *Hardly proper clothes for this shitty weather.* Lara thought. *But proper tomb-raiding apparel.*
She tread the polished wood floor with hardly a sound, boots slipping unnoticed across hard planking.
After a quick detour to the front counter to order coffee, she slipped into the farthest booth, grateful for its comfort.
She perused the shop through narrowed eyes, feeling distinctly vulnerable without the familiar weight of a handy pistol or two strapped to her thighs. *Kurtis still owes me a weapon. And he'd better deliver, or I'm going to think up some really nasty form of torture.*
The thought of the enigmatic Lux Veritatis initiate flushed high cheekbones in crimson brilliance, particularly after the event which had taken place earlier that morning.
They'd sought refuge in an abandoned apartment building the previous night, tired of running and in dire need of rest. The Nephilim had lost their trail and passed harmlessly on, leaving both grateful adventurers to slumber.
They'd slept beside one another, for nothing other than the benefit of the other's body heat, both keeping their respectful distance. *The distance didn't stay 'respectful' though.* Lara thought darkly, with a scowl. Upon awakening, she'd discovered, to her great chagrin and embarrassment, her entire body snuggled up against Kurtis,' their legs comfortably entangled, both of his strong and toned arms draped almost protectively across her lithe figure.
And his reaction to this...for a moment she'd entertained the thought that someone had snuck up behind him and jabbed a hot poker into his back, given the way he jerked immediately away.
But for one single moment, she'd glimpsed the true Kurtis in those beautiful thick-lashed eyes, the cold and artfully crafted wall normally blocking all emotions dissipating in that second of confusion.
It was a slip he wouldn't make again, Lara knew.
A steaming mug settled into place before her.
She cupped this offering in grateful hands, touching full lips to its rim for a cautious sip.
Burning liquid descended her throat, its torturous path rousing tears to blinking eyes for a second. The initial discomfort passed in a moment, and she savored its warmth, curling wisps of steam kissing cold flesh.
The shop's door burst open in a swirl of rain and blackness.
She didn't bother studying this broad-shouldered figure. She sensed his presence in the confident stride, glimpsing dark tousled hair out of the corner of one eye.
He tossed a sheaf of papers down in front of her. A newspaper, she realized.
His weight settled in beside her, their thighs brushing in a casual move which seemed extremely intimate to her.
"Drinking the real stuff, huh." Kurtis commented, indicating her coffee.
"Yes. None of that pansy flavored crap."
*He smells good. Not at all like you'd expect a smoker to smell.* She quickly admonished herself for that thought, and shifted away from him.
His hard body was completely sheathed from prying eyes today, no tantalizing glimpses of his broad sexy back revealed through shredded material. The slashed white T-shirt had been exchanged for a new black one, paired with a pair of pants which resembled the ones he'd worn during their adventures in Paris a few months ago. *They fit him well.* she thought. Then, a second later, *Dammit!*
"Front page." He tapped it with his finger, and clamped a cigarette between his teeth, patting himself down in search of a lighter.
She absently reached over and slipped it from between his lips, keen eyes perusing the newsprint.
"What the hell?" Kurtis demanded, making a grab for the slender object.
"Bad habit, you know. You should quit."
"You should stay out of my business. It's not your choice whether I smoke or not."
"Yes, but it is my choice to let you tag along, and I'd rather not be prancing around with some big ape who reeks of smoke."
Kurtis arched both thick eyebrows, and slammed his hand down on the paper, directly over the line she'd been reading.
Her eyes sought his own. "Do you mind?"
"Give me back my cigarette."
Lara dangled it smartly before him, with an infuriating smirk. "Take your hand off my paper then."
"It's not your paper. I bought it."
"Yes, and then you threw it down in front of me and told me to read the front page. That indicated that you were relinquishing ownership of it."
"And did I do that with my cigarette? No." he replied, the first sharpness she'd ever perceived in this casual and unshakable man appearing in his somewhat irritable tone.
*Someone got up on the wrong side of bed today.*
It was a childish move, rendered more out of a wish to further aggravate him than because she wanted him to quit slowly killing himself.
Coarse paper slipped with a quiet whisper across full lips, it's passage tracked by startled cerulean orbs. His gaze surged to twine as one with her own, slightly less angry now, the curtain settling over those beautiful eyes once more, as though Kurtis realized he'd lost control unnecessarily. Full lips curved in a slight smile, the expression doing nothing to sheath the triumph swirling within thick-lashed orbs.
Lara smirked again, and deftly slipped his cigarette down the front of her tank top.
Kurtis followed its progress, his eyes lingering against her ample chest, as though he could maneuver the stolen cigarette from her body through telekinesis, much the same way he manipulated his Chigurai.
Her hand slipped over his atop the paper, and squeezed unnaturally hard.
His gaze returned to her face.
"And please, no attempts to retrieve it. You seem to be a man of fair intelligence, Kurtis, and I think we both know a move like that would be very, very unwise."
He smirked. "Who said I wanted to stick my hand down there anyway?" *Then again, who said I didn't?*
"Bitch." he murmured, no fury present within his low voice. Then, removing his hand from where it lay beneath hers, he retrieved another cigarette from the right back pocket of his pants.
"Bastard." she returned. "Smelly bastard." Lara amended, upon catching sight of the new tightly rolled paper object gripped in masculine fingers.
He smirked around the cigarette, setting his lighter on top of the burnished wood tabletop. "Nice place."
"Yes. No doubt a ruse to scare away the nasty dregs of society such as yourself."
"Please, you're killing me with compliments."
"Well if that's the case, I'll have to keep them coming."
He refrained from replying, instead turning his attention on his smoke, the lighter flaming to life beneath his touch.
" 'Luther Rouzic, keeper of the Strahov Archives for more than twenty years, found murdered late last night.' They certainly didn't waste any time, did they?"
"Good news travels fast." Kurtis replied with a shrug. The lighter died into reluctant oblivion, the cigarette's end still untouched by its brilliance.
She slipped a quick look sideways at him, dark gaze traversing the handsome, pensive planes of his face. "Anything on your mind?"
"No." The reply came sharply, brusquely.
She nodded thoughtfully. "I suspected as much."
He glanced startled over at her, seeming vaguely surprised at the insult she'd just worked in so subtly. And as he perused her lovely face, Kurtis felt a growing admiration for this woman rising inside, even as a part of him warned that this admiration was not welcome, that as a strictly 'business' relationship there was no room for admiration, and certainly not for lust.
The air hung thick between them, a sizzling magnetism present within the heavy atmosphere. A fleeting image of the Louvre skittered briefly throughout her mind, this scene disturbingly familiar in the closeness of his face and the soft fan of his breath against her cheek.
He slipped a hand across one softly rounded shoulder, fingertips grazing satin flesh. His palm cupped the back of her neck, twining within the thick braid falling as burnished copper down the curve of Lara's back.
She swallowed hard.
His other hand released its claim on the fresh cigarette he clutched, and drifted lightly over the taut and tanned muscles of her abdomen. She felt its weight settle reluctantly against her right hip, curving possessively around a lithe and slender waist.
They leaned in as one, breaths mingling, long lashes cloaking desire-fogged orbs.
His scent assaulted her senses, a masculine aroma entirely his own. It lingered tantalizingly within flaring nostrils, its presence thrusting chills all throughout her.
She could nearly taste him, so close were they now. His breath surged warm and comforting over her face, its sweetness testament to the peppermint he'd apparently just consumed. *Maybe he planned this, and took a breath mint so his dragon fumes wouldn't frighten me off.* Lara thought vaguely.
She touched both leather-sheathed palms to his strong shoulders.
His eyes slipped closed.
*This is a public place, too. What will you do for an encore, Mr. Trent? Throw me down on the table and ravage me, you naughty man?*
Her fingertips dug harshly into the flesh beneath his T-shirt.
Kurtis jerked in surprise, both eyes flying open, cerulean gaze slightly lethargic.
Lara smiled, and placed her mouth close to his ear. He tensed automatically, shaking away this spell she seemed to have momentarily placed him under, prepared to tear himself away the moment her lips brushed his skin.
They never did.
"I told you, I don't kiss smokers." Lara whispered almost conspiratorially, and removed his hand from where it still lay now rigid against the smooth flesh of her stomach.
"You had something in your eye." Kurtis replied coolly.
"Did I? Well, thank you very much for attempting to save me from such a horrible affliction." she responded dryly.
He rose abruptly, collecting his lighter and discarded cigarette.
"Where the hell are you going?"
"I've got a few errands to run."
"And how am I going to know where to find you?"
"Same apartment. The one we spent the night in. We'll camp out there again." He lit his smoke this time, and inhaled deeply.
"Really. Well, maybe you enjoy sleeping in a crumbling old derelict building, but I'd prefer a hotel room."
"Better if we keep low. Whoever came after us in the Strahov Archives will be keeping an eye on any motels in town. I'm not keen on another showdown with those damn Nephilim. But if you happen to have an extra Periapt Shard on you, then you're welcome to find a place more satisfactory to your taste."
The heat of rage warmed her body, its flame igniting within each limb. "Don't be a dickhead. You wouldn't like dealing with me when I'm angry."
He returned her gaze coldly. "See you at home, *sweetheart*."
"Not if I put a boot to your head and knock you unconscious for being an impudent little asshole." Lara snapped, crossing both arms over her chest.
He seemed to be pondering a reply to this threat, then suddenly pivoted on a heel and stalked toward the door without so much as a "Good-bye" or even a stream of obscenities.
She resisted the urge to hurl her mug at his stupid, pointy, extremely irritating little head. *It wouldn't do any good.* Lara thought furiously.
* * *
Lab Cambodia, August 9th, 2003
Its bulk quivered minutely, bound to chill steel by leather straps.
Pallid flesh snapped upward to reveal ebony orbs frosted in death, thin colorless lips parting in a single soundless scream.
Mucus frothed to shrieking lips, bubbling over a sturdy chin, clotted phlegm crusting a hooked nose. The creature arched its back, spine flexing, each bone settling reluctantly into place.
Joachim Karel watched impassively, his apathetic features reflected in the creature's sightless gaze.
The foaming mucus churned to brilliant carmine as a blood vessel ruptured, its life-giving liquid mingling as one with saliva.
Death's shroud lifted from the spasming figure.
Frantic eyes rolled to contemplate the room's only other occupant, standing silent and motionless just before it.
A slight smile twitched cold lips.
Gore exploded upward from the creature's mouth, splashing hot and scalding against exposed flesh. It writhed anxiously against the table's coldness, crying out through blood-glazed lips.
"Welcome." Joachim Karel said, and reached to free it.
* * *
She watched his sleeping figure, the strong chest rising and falling with each gentle inhalation. His features lay bathed in moonlight, softened in slumber, almost idyllic, boyish in sleep. With those keen indigo eyes sheathed by smooth flesh, Lara felt she could almost completely relax. Their intensity carefully concealed, unseen now by her vigilant gaze. She felt powerful, in control, these emotions ones usually present inside her.
But in wake, those eyes held a power over her, one that she was coming to passionately dislike. Hate, even. No one had ever invoked such feelings in her before, rendered her nearly helpless with only a touch.
*I hate it.* she thought savagely, glaring at his slumbering body. *I hate him.*
And yet she knew she did not, that hate would be the last adequate word to describe her feelings toward him. This enigmatic man whom had already shared one of her more frightening and exhilarating adventures intrigued her. His brooding, the coldness he preferred to exhibit, and those goddamned eyes piqued her natural curiosity. Perhaps that was why she found herself so attracted to him; curiosity, an attribute which Lara had never been without, her entire life.
He remained a mystery, untouchable, much the same as the tombs and ancient cities she'd once scoured with a passion she'd never before experienced for a human being. Exploring, discovery. These had once been her great loves, and no man had ever come close to taking their place in her heart.
Kurtis sighed quietly, and shifted in sleep.
Lara perched close beside him, taking care that no part of their bodies touched. *I'd rather not have a repeat of yesterday morning.*
His heat warmed her, its fervor settling lightly against cold flesh and instantly banishing all traces of the surrounding damp and chill. She wanted to touch him, stroke the renegade bangs lying soaked across the curve of his forehead.
Her fingertips stretched outward, almost without thought on her part.
Then, with a scowl, Lara jerked her gloved hand back, with such violence anyone watching might have suspected he'd burned her. Nothing good had ever come of bodily contact between Lara Croft and Kurtis Trent.
* * *
*Flashback*
He entered cautiously, Boran X gripped two-handed, cerulean orbs narrowed in intense concentration. His gaze probed surrounding shadows for sign of danger, not a single corner escaping their thorough scrutiny.
His father's study lay in disarray.
The door swung mangled and dented from rusting hinges, this ominous squeak the only sound permeating near-silence.
Kurtis felt the thrumming of his heartbeat quicken, its frantic pounding drumming now with a violence that shuddered his entire ribcage. The thick acidity of bile rose within the warmth of his mouth.
He glided forward, weapon at the ready, a churning sickness roiling in his gut.
Glass cracked beneath his boots, each shard exploding with the viciousness of a fired gun. Grasping wind flowed through the shattered window, its covetous touch swirling around him.
He lay pale and motionless, his prone body partially cloaked by the over- turned desk. Carmine liquid twined full lips, traversing a strong chin to pool in the hollow of his throat.
Wide verdant orbs contemplated Kurtis as he dropped slowly to trembling knees.
The Boran X clattered forgotten to blood-stained wood.
Kurtis reached numbly to close his father's sightless eyes, fingers bucking and trembling violently. He swallowed hard around the lump crusting his throat, eyeing this man so familiar to him in life, the unmoving figure now nearly a stranger, so mutilated was it. This was not his father, this grisly visage before him, its neck bent at an odd angle, body ravaged and violated by ferocious hands. His father's lips lay against stark white skin, discolored and knotted in a final scream of horror. And his chest...his broad, muscular chest, marked by angry red slashes where nails had bitten deep, grazing the internal organs.
Tears were foreign to Kurtis Trent. There had never been any, not since he was a very small child. He'd trained himself against any such weakness, concealing anguish behind cold blue eyes and an empty smirk.
But they came now, silent, swift, tracing stubble-roughened cheekbones to linger salty and hot against parted lips. Both strong shoulders bobbed in agony, dark bangs falling unchecked over tightly closed eyes as he sobbed noiselessly.
The grief surged unrelenting throughout him, tearing at his insides, vicious in its travel. He clenched both damp palms to hard fists, head bowed over the desecrated corpse of his father.
Then, with a sudden and explosive "Fuck!" Kurtis surged to his feet, snatching up his weapon as he leapt upright. He peered through tear-dampened lashes, their weight resting heavy against his cheekbones.
The grief slowly dissipated, dwindling into oblivion, replaced now by a rage unlike any he'd ever known. He kicked at a smashed desk chair, the powerful thrust of his boot hurling it several feet to splinter against a nearby wall.
He spun, murder in those beautiful eyes, and slammed a fist into hard plaster.
The crack reverberated in sensitive ears, the wall fractionating beneath his violence.
He snapped the safety of his gun on, and jammed it into the holster at his side.
His rage carried him through the small room, like a bulldozer, eliminating everything in his path. Hard wood cracked and gave in response to his vicious attacks. He spun, his fury not yet sated, both hands shredded and bleeding.
He plunged the door free of its hinges in a single mighty kick.
This at last seemed to slow him, and he propped himself, panting, against the wall, trembling all over. He inhaled several calming breaths, coaxing his ragged breathing back to normal levels.
*I'm going to find who did this.*
If need be, he'd spend the rest of his life hunting the motherfucker who'd done this to his father. And when he succeeded, he'd rain death and destruction down upon them, rip their throat out with his bare hands if he could.
End Flashback
He woke slowly, to the warmth of tears on his cheekbones.
*What the hell?* Kurtis thought groggily, numbly swiping clinging liquid from his skin. He propped himself up on one elbow, squinting through sleep fogged eyes at his surroundings.
A soft rustle erupted to his left.
He rolled over, and his eyes settled on her peaceful face, beautiful features slack in rest. She lay a good distance away, obviously wary of a repeat performance of their little cuddling session yesterday morning. Her braid lay thick and glistening beneath a sheen of rainwater over one small shoulder, its brilliant copper highlighted by the moon's effulgence.
Kurtis studied her a moment, experiencing a softness for another human being for the first time in his life. It was a strange protectiveness he felt toward her, an urgent need to keep her safe when he knew perfectly well she was more than capable of looking after herself. As a man accustomed only to watching his own back and not really giving a shit about others, this was a new and somewhat frightening emotion.
*Next thing you know, I'm going to be proclaiming my love and begging her to marry me.* he thought scornfully, shaking his head and turning away.
He reached for the bag he'd been using for a pillow, and yanked it into his lap.
From the depths of his pack Kurtis withdrew a bent and weathered photograph, its edges lovingly worn by much handling. He held it gingerly, almost tentatively, examining handsome features similar to his own.
The photo had been taken long ago, depicting a five-year-old Kurtis perched atop his father's knee, beaming excitedly into the camera. How long had it been since he'd worn such an exuberant expression? There hadn't been such unadulterated happiness present within that bright and shining cerulean gaze for many years.
And since his father's death, the rage and darkness had built inside him, toughening an already hardened young man even further. He killed with less thought, and no remorse, dispatching his enemies with an almost unfeeling coldness. Only Eckhardt had awakened a spark within him, his father's murderer breathing life back into Kurtis' shut-away emotions more than anything else. Even Lara's appearance, and his attraction for her didn't make him feel as vividly as thoughts of Eckhardt still did.
He stroked the callused pad of his fingertip across the photo's surface, eyes lingering a moment longer. Then, expelling a quiet breath through his lips, he returned it to his waiting pack once more.
Lara stirred, and murmured something in slumber.
Kurtis extracted a slender black object from the zippered front pocket of his bag, then tossed the heavy pack aside. He stood, and crossed to her sleeping figure.
His gaze wandered slowly over the softly arched curve of her body, memorizing each detail, his nostrils flaring against the heady warmth of her scent. A shudder passed throughout her body, prompted by the chill air circulating throughout the old apartment.
He crouched at her side, and lightly set a hand against the bare flesh of her shoulder.
They were ill-equipped to deal with Prague's shitty weather, particularly in this drafty old place, and there were no blankets to be found. He'd searched the derelict building the night before precisely for that purpose, after seeing her shiver, and turned up empty-handed. Any furniture had been smashed nearly beyond recognition, any forgotten sheets or other bedding shredded beyond use. *Maybe I should have just rented a motel room. Those bastards are probably long gone, figuring we moved on to another city or something.*
He hefted the object in his hand, and slipped it into the holster strapped to one shapely leg.
"No more bitching about how I made you leave your gun behind, Lara." Kurtis whispered, lips curling slightly.
The strong hand on her shoulder moved tentatively to her forehead, lightly brushing aside loose strands of hair.
She shifted beneath his gentle touch, a sigh parting full lips.
He pulled away, and rose, turning his back on her and striding toward the opening in the far wall. *So much for keeping this business.* Kurtis thought grimly, and vanished into the waiting night.