Kiss or Kill

I am from a family of assassins. At age 21, we get to join actual missions. Our training becomes more difficult. Luckily for me, my family has been training me my whole life. You see, I’m a Sterling. Yep, I come from a long line of killers. We are number one ranked. When you want to get the job done, you call us. Personally, I have always rebelled, fighting against my family to be normal. I would sneak out to meet friends. I would skip training to go to the club and meet boys. My parents were never happy about it, but being daddy’s princess, I never got too much punishment from them.

The start of my troubles began when, one day, a new family moved in next door. It was too late to oppose the council before we realized they were the VanArchers. Our competitors. I cared little for them or they’re annoyingly perfect son who’s 24 and tries to beat me at everything. With his stupid, perfect face and his muscles for days. The stupid fact that he can bench 315. Whatever. I might have a small crush, but he is easy on the eyes. Other than that, our families are enemies. On days when training, I would avoid him on purpose by working a different circuit.

I am finishing my work out, before leaving I saw the schedule for training days and that someone is also going to do the same circuit as me on Valentine’s Day. If I figure out an excuse, I won't have to train with him. The day comes when I dread getting out of bed. I don’t feel like competing, but luckily for me, my friends told me about this raging party. The type is Blackout, and it gives me the excuse I need to not be at training that day. The best part is that everyone must wear a white mask. It’s the only way they will let you in.

My parents don’t know I’m planning to sneak out. It’s late enough that they should be in bed and so I start my escape.

I know what you are thinking, 21 and still living at home. Listen, living alone is expensive.

I’m wearing a black mini dress that stops above the knee. It has a deep v cut and wraps tightly around my waist to show off my curves. I slip on a pair of boots and my leather jacket. I glance outside and see my friend’s car waiting, so I slipped out the window. I scaled down the outside of the house to the ground. Yes, with my training, I could have done it differently with flips and jumps, but a girl doesn’t want to get sweaty before meeting boys. I climbed into my friend’s car, and we took off. Someone hands me a mask I can tie under my high ponytail. My blonde hair hides the strings well.  

After parking the car, we got into the club. The benefit of getting handed things from being beautiful. Anything we want, just bat our eyelashes and it is taken care of for us. The black lights are everywhere, and the music is so loud thrumming through my whole body. The first stop is the bar. Once we have had enough to drink, we all make our way to the dance floor. All of us are dancing near one another.

One guy I spotted from the bar was wearing all black. His dress shirt so tight showed off his chest muscles perfectly. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Damn, those should be registered as lethal weapons. I started thinking of all the ways he could overpower me in the bedroom.

Whoa girl, chill.

I knew what I wanted when he came towards us. Him. The masks keeping our identities hidden gave me this boost in confidence to be reckless. He circled around my group, reminding me of a shark circling its prey. The poor guy did not know I was the one who was hunting him.

Our bodies melted together. They say the best dance partner can predict your movements. That is exactly what he could do. The slightest change in my body. He could sense it. My hips were grinding against him. We dance like this for several songs. Getting me all hot and bothered. He leans in and says, “Come with me.” I nod my head and he takes my hand. We weave through the crowd, down a dark hallway. Out of sight of prying eyes, I leaned against the wall. Him on the opposite side. Our breathing labored as his eyes raked over my body. I knew what I wanted. Took two steps before our lips collided. Not gentle. Desperate, like we needed one another. Our tongues, fighting for dominance. I pulled back, stopping the kiss to look into his eyes.

Finally, I did it. I kissed him. I stepped back, waiting for his reaction. He says, “Well, that’s a Valentine’s Day kiss I’ll never forget!”

No.

An all too familiar voice. He slips off his mask. My mouth is agape. “Braxton?! What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, pulling my mask off as a smile spreads across his all to perfect face. “Sterling.” Is all he says. Stupid that he calls me by my last name as if we were back at training. “VanArcher”, I say bluntly. He steps closer to me and instinctively I step backwards until we are against the wall. His blue eyes darkened with lust. “Jess, if I knew you could kiss like that, I would have done it weeks ago. And how your dress hugs your body does something to me.” He says the last part through clenched teeth as if he is trying to keep his self-control. He places a hand on my hip and when I don’t protest, he takes the time to caress my body, inching his way up my side.

        Tonight will either be one of the best nights of my life or one of the worst.

His finger then on the curvature on my breast, exposed by the dress I am wearing, making its way up to my neck. He leans in and kisses the skin near my ear. My eyes flutter closed, enjoying the feeling. I bite my lower lip, wanting to taste his lips again. He moves one leg between mine. I can feel his erection pushing against me. One of his hands fondles my breast, sending pulses to my core. Wanting friction, my hips move against his leg. His other hand on my hip, pulling me to him and helps me grind against him.

In between kissing up to my jawline, he says, “Sterling, please come home with me.” I almost nod in agreement when a thought crosses my mind. What are the odds that we're at the same club? I pushed him away so I could look into his eyes. He stares at my lips, ready to devour them. I asked, “Braxton, what are you doing here?” My question brings back his focus to my eyes. I searched his eyes for an answer, and I realized saying, “You’re here on a mission.”

Almost like they had broadcast my question to everyone. An explosion goes off. Registering what is happening, Braxton’s demeanor changes. “Fuck Jess. You weren’t supposed to be here, but when I saw you in that,” he motions downward to my dress. “I couldn’t resist, and when I saw you make eye contact with me at the bar, everything went out the window.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath before responding. “Brax, our families HATE each other. What made you think this was a good idea?” In the distance, you hear gunshots and people screaming. He moved to the side of me as we looked at the bar. He pulls out a gun from behind him. No surprise. He steps to block me if someone comes down the hall.

We head down the hall as someone turns down the hallway. I pulled him into a doorway to give us some form of a shield. Bending down, he groans. I am sure it’s because there is a small gap to see down my dress. He whispers, “Jess, I have wanted to kiss you for the longest time.” I stand up straight with my gun in my hands. I peek out to see if the person still shows up.

        Bang.

A bullet goes flying past, and I pull back in time to miss. I lean back out and shoot him between the eyes. Kill shot. My signature. Facing Braxton, I ask, “what is our escape plan because if our families find us together, we are both dead?” He stares at me for a minute, then kisses me with so much force, as if we will never see one another again. “Jess, please stay here. I will go take care of everything. If I don’t come back, just remember. You have always been my dream. With or without our families’ permission, I was going to make you mine.”

And that was the last time I ever saw him…