Primal Heat 05 - Darkness Reborn

about it the wrong way. Maybe fighting her passions had been a misguided approach. Maybe the right choice was to embrace her inner fire and let it shine.
    Blaine grinned, a smug look that told her that he knew she'd changed her mind.
    Even as she started toward the bike, even as she slid her leg over the seat behind Blaine, even as she wrapped her arms around his muscled waist, she knew was using the logic as an excuse to get on and feel that fire, a choice she knew in her gut was the wrong one, the dangerous one, the choice of an addict unable to ditch the high.
    Blaine let the engine idle, and it subsided to a quiet roar. He pointed to pegs poking out of the bike near her feet. "Rule number one. Your feet never, ever come off those pegs unless I tell you. Not even when I stop. Your feet get in my way, and we could crash, or you could burn your leg off."
    Her heart started to race, but she put her feet on the rods. What was she doing, riding this bike? This wasn't her. But it was too tempting. She wanted to live, just once. How could a bike ride trigger her into going crazy and becoming a murderer?
    By stripping her of what little self-control she had left, that's how. What if she liked the high too much? What if she wanted it again? What if—
    He twisted around so he could look at her. "Second rule: you tuck up against me and let your body fall in with mine. When I lean into the corners, you relax and go with me. Got it?"
    Oh, man, she so couldn't do this. Release all resistance and let the world take her? "I—"
    "If you need to stop, tap my side with your left hand. Other than that, just keep your feet on the pegs and let your body move with mine and the g-forces of the bike, and you're good." He grabbed her knees and crushed her thighs against the outsides of his.
    Heat began to throb through her inner legs. An awareness of his strength. Of the intimate feel of his body between her thighs.
    He flipped a grin at her over his shoulder. "The name of the game is submission, Trinity."
    She stiffened. Submission was a dirty word in her vocabulary. Submission meant giving into the curse.
    "Surrender yourself to the bike and to me."
    "I can't surrender to anything—"
    He revved the engine with a flick of his right wrist, drowning out her protest. She frantically hit him on his left side to tell him to stop, but all he did was raise one eyebrow at her. Then he ditched the kickstand and the bike began to roll.
    She lunged to get a grip around his waist, hugging desperately with all her strength. What had she been thinking—
    She suddenly became aware of a deep vibration echoing up from the bike, like the pulsing of a bass drum throbbing in her core, down her legs, in her belly, along her thighs where she was pressed so tightly around Blaine.
    And then the bike lurched forward with a squeal of tires. She tightened her grip around his waist, and then she felt the earth move beneath her. As the bike roared down the street, the cold wind whipped at her face, yanked at her hair, and her whole body shook with the vibration of a thousand pounds of force, she felt her soul come to life in a way she never had before.
    She raised her face to the sky, felt the sun fighting to warm her against the wind's coldness, felt the heat of Blaine's body between her thighs. He turned a corner and they leaned as one with the bike.
    She looked down as her right knee skimmed just above the pavement. They were going so fast, the ground was nothing but a gray blur, rushing past. Another inch closer and her kneecap would turn into a Frisbee. So close to utter destruction, dancing on the edge—
    He straightened the bike and they moved upright again. Away from danger. She'd threaded the edge, but she'd never really been at risk. She could feel Blaine's complete control of the machine of the power beneath them. One wrong move and the bike could be an instrument of carnage and lost dreams. But in Blaine's grasp, it was a tool of pure, unadulterated freedom.
    To be able to control death so easily? To turn it from hell into joy? Tears filled her eyes as she pressed her cheek to Blaine's back. The heat from his body pressed at her inner thighs, burning through her jeans. Her hair knifed at her cheeks, her shirt flapped ruthlessly, as if the fabric wanted to rip free from her body, to fly through the air. She hugged tighter, suddenly afraid.
    Blaine tapped her wrist and held his right arm up to the sky, like he was reaching for the sun. "You can let