Death's Widow

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Death's Widow Page 2

by Lori Aisling


  His gaze softened, but the fire in its depths burned just as hot. He leaned over me and his supple cloak covered the bed, shielding me from the angels below. I could feel his warm breath against my temple as he whispered so softly, “I see a beautiful, young woman with vibrant life in honey brown eyes. I see silken hair the color of milk chocolate framing features that look as if they were painted by gods themselves. I hear laughter as joyful as rain on a summer day leaving lips begging to be tasted by the one she adores. I see a heart so full of hope and love it cannot be contained by the vessel she was given. I see you, Amara. I see how much more you truly are than you were ever given a chance to be.”

  He leaned back and I struggled to breathe. I had never felt so seen, so known, like this man looked deep inside me and knew how desperately I wanted- no, yearned for, the life he described. To love, to laugh, and to live. So simple, yet so unattainable.

  I couldn’t look away from him. The great creator himself couldn’t pull me from his eyes. “Your name. Please, tell me your name.”

  “If you’re ready to go, I will tell you.”

  “I am ready.”

  I heard the doctor in the background the same time I heard my poor dad sobbing with the realization I was now gone. “Time of death is 1:52 PM…” the doc's droll voice along with my dad’s cries were drowned out as Death extended his hand to me. Reaching out to accept his touch, I never let my eyes leave his. They were all I wanted to see- all I needed. His warm fingers sent tingles up my arm and the inferno in his eyes blazed higher still.

  “Callon,” he whispered as he gently squeezed my hand and pulled me up off the bed to stand before him.

  “Callon,” I breathed, “Don’t leave me.”

  “Ssh, my love. You are going to be alright. Everything is as it should be.”

  I felt the three angels as they came up behind me. A large hand rested on my shoulder, and I heard a deep voice speak softly, “It is time. Amara Rush, your next cycle awaits.”

  Yet I couldn’t stop looking at Callon- it was so much more than just ‘didn’t want to’. I couldn’t- as if I would die without him as my lifeline. And that wasn’t even a funny pun. “Callon, no! Please! Don’t leave me now, I just found you.” I felt tears blurring my vision and realized the angel behind me was moving me away from Death. Was I floating? I wasn’t walking, my legs weren’t moving. My chest constricted, and I could feel my heart breaking over a man I only just met and as ridiculous as that sounds, I simply couldn’t imagine living without him.

  Storm clouds filled his expressive eyes as he watched me move away from him. His jaw clenched, his teeth gritted and his fingers curled into fists held at his side. The golden glow was getting brighter the farther away I moved from him and I felt myself panicking with the thought of losing him. Desperation woven in his voice, he shouted across the room to me, “Amara! What do you see when you look at me?”

  With no hesitation and without a single doubt, I voiced the two words that embodied the beautiful man looking back at me, “My future.”

  There were flashes of black and yellow, like a crazy techno rave on X. Grunts of pain, cursing, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh filled my ears before I felt myself pulled up against a hard wall of muscle. Softness surrounded me and then everything went completely silent and dark. I squeezed my eyes shut, wrapping my arms tightly around the one thing I knew, the one thing I was sure of: Callon.

  Dreams of Decadence and Death

  I awoke, but failed to open my eyes- I didn’t want to. I had just experienced the most beautiful dream and I didn’t want it to be over. I felt love, the kind I read about in the novels at the publishing house; an all-encompassing love that squeezed your heart so hard it was difficult to even breathe. They must have really upped the damn morphine drip because it was so intense, plus I felt no pain. I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t hurt. I snuggled deeper into the plush bedding, the lavish feeling of down and spun silk cradling my head, the overstuffed comforter weighing me down and embracing me like the most luxurious cocoon. I sighed, this was heaven...wait...I was in the ICU at Presbyterian Hospital and there were no fluffy pillows and high-quality blankets there.

  Shooting upright in the bed I took in my surroundings. I was in a massive bedroom, I mean huge. The four-poster bed I was currently inhabiting was made of what appeared to be walnut,with the rich, dark swirls of the wood polished and oiled to a gorgeous sheen. The bed coverings were truly of a quality entirely outside my meager salary, the rich jewel tones competing only with the opulence of the material. Heavy drapes covered floor to ceiling windows across from me, and I wondered what I would see should the curtains be moved aside. Beautifully framed pictures decorated the walls which were painted in a toasty hue of earth tones making them appear as suede. Three large pillar candles burned brightly atop an ornate vanity, casting warm shadows across the richness of the vast space.

  ‘Whoa,’ I thought. Yeah, I know: pretty simplistic, but I was on sensory overload. This was seriously 5-star accommodations and if I was here…

  The candle wicks flickered with the movement of air and I jerked my head to the doorway of the suite. Entering the room carrying a silver tray was...Oh God...it was really him. The dream was real? “Callon?” I queried, suddenly feeling nervous.

  “Good morning, Amara. I trust you rested well?” His voice was smooth, deep, and sensual- exactly as I remembered.

  “Good morning,” I squeaked. “This is real. I’m not dreaming. Am I dead?”

  He chuckled, the sound like warm syrup. “Well, I guess it depends on your interpretation of ‘dead’. You aren’t alive in the same definition as you were taught to believe, but you aren’t ‘dead’ in the same analogy, either. Let’s just say you are ‘alive where you are’.”

  “Ok, that will work for now. I think I have a lot to learn. I don’t know what to say, Callon. Thank you for saving me.”

  “You were already saved, love. I have never...I mean, I just…”

  I could see his nervousness as he stood there holding the tray and it was endearing, cute, and sexy all at the same time. “You can come in, you know. This is your room, I assume. What are you carrying?” I wanted to ease his discomfort, I could tell the poor guy was struggling and frankly, so was I.

  “I brought you coffee. I didn’t know if you drank it.”

  Eyeing the six cups on the tray, I arched an eyebrow. “Do you have company?”

  He looked confused for a moment before looking down at the tray. “Oh! No. I, umm, didn’t know how you liked it, so I brought black, black with sugar, with only cream, with cream and sugar and then I thought maybe you liked tea, so I brought that too. Plus mine.”

  The sentiment in this man squeezed my heart like a vise. I smiled at him and pulled myself from the bed. Looking down, I saw I was dressed in modest, flannel pajama bottoms with a matching top. Ok. I’d ask about that in a minute. But first things first- coffee. Blessed, miraculous, hot, black, coffee hand-delivered by Death. “Come, put the tray down and have coffee with me, Callon. I’ll take the black, but honestly, I’d drink any of them. I love it that much, and I’m not kidding.”

  Relief flooded his features and he wasted no time hurrying to the little bistro table next to the windows. “I have food, too. I didn’t want to cook until I asked you what you liked. Would you like me to prepare it for you now?”

  My stomach growled at the mention of breakfast and I think I might have drooled a little, but I didn’t want him to leave yet. I just wanted to spend some time with this generous, caring man who had already done so much. “Let’s have coffee first. I have something to admit to you. When I was lying in that bed and you were telling me it was time to let go, I remember thinking all I wanted to do was have coffee with you and get to know you better. Weird, right? But it’s the truth. It looks like I got my wish.”

  Walking to the table, I sat down, tucking my knees to the side. Callon reached for the stoneware mug and I could see his hands were shaking. Reachin
g out, I cupped his hands in mine. “What’s wrong? Do you regret bringing me here?” I asked gently.

  His beautiful silver eyes locked onto mine and the fire of determination and desire I remembered seeing when I met him flashed briefly through them. “Never say that again, Amara. Don’t even think it. I have never been so sure of anything in all my life- and that’s a long time. I worry more about you questioning your desire to be here. When you told me what you saw when you looked at me, I could no more let them take you from me than stop the spin of the earth. I will never regret taking you- ever.”

  “So, about that. Are you going to be in trouble? I mean, are there laws or rules against this kind of thing?” I giggled as I took the mug from his hands and I sighed as I wrapped my hands around its warmth. Putting it to my lips, I looked at him over the rim, awaiting his response.

  He shrugged, clearly not concerned. “Hell if I know. No one has ever done this before.” A mischievous grin tipped his lips and he leveled me with an ornery stare. “I do think you’re stuck with me, Amara. I sure hope you aren’t the ‘act now, think later’ type of personality.”

  I laughed, my tummy all warm from not just the coffee, but from his intense gaze. “Fair enough. So let’s start from the beginning. Hi. My name is Amara, I’m 28 years old. I like to drink coffee, read books, and take long walks on the beach. I’m looking for a man who wants to be my best friend and enjoy baked goods in front of a roaring fire. How’s that for my selling pitch?” I was as nervous as him- I had no idea where I was, what was going to be expected of me, or who this gorgeous man sitting across the table from me really was. Granted, I knew he was Death, but what did that mean for me?

  Callon blessed me with an easy smile and kicked back in the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “You don’t need a sales pitch to pique my interest, dear. However, I remember some questions you asked me when you were in that depressing hospital bed. You asked what my favorite book was, and I know you worked in publishing. Let’s start there, shall we?”

  We began to converse as if we had known each other for years. Books, graphic novels, myths, legends, and popular culture. Romance, horror, historical fiction, memoirs, and cult classics. We laughed, excitedly agreed, and vehemently disagreed on numerous topics in the literary and cinematic world. Before I knew it, we drank all five cups of coffee, only the tepid tea remaining on the tray.

  Opting for a quick change of conversation, I decided to try to begin assessing what I had gotten myself into. “What’s outside of these window coverings? What would I see if I pulled them aside?”

  Callon’s eyes narrowed, a sinister look covering his previously carefree features. “Something you aren’t ready for, Amara. You must be constantly aware of danger, and never for a moment relax and think your life is care-free.” With a flick of his hand, I felt the heavy drapes move to the side and I quickly covered my eyes, shielding myself from whatever it was waiting opposite the dense curtains. Perhaps this wasn’t the greatest idea after all.

  Hearing a chuckle, I peeked through my fingers to see a relaxed Death, still reclined in his chair, amusement dancing in his eyes. So the crazy fucker thinks this is funny? Constant danger and living life looking over my shoulder? What the hell? See? This is how shit goes for me with men. One moment I think I have found Mr. Right and the next instant he’s a goddamn psycho.

  “Amara. Love. Uncover your eyes, I was kidding,” he laughed. “It’s fine.”

  Splitting my fingers so just a sliver of sight was allowed, I cautiously tipped my head towards the massive picture windows. Breathing a sigh of relief I uncovered my eyes, only to be shocked at the intensity of the scene before me: an unending forest of the most beautiful green pine trees compete for space alongside jagged mountains with snow-capped peaks and a great river cutting across the center of the valley. It was gorgeous! I gasped in astonishment, not entirely sure what I was expecting, but it sure wasn’t that. “Oh, Callon! It’s amazing!”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what you thought was out there. You have much to learn about this new existence. Trust me when I say I would never have brought you here if I didn’t feel you could enjoy your life. You never need to worry, Amara- I’ll always keep you safe.”

  Realizing the rotten trick he pulled for his own entertainment, I launched myself out of the chair and onto him, slapping his shoulder before tickling his ribs. “That was so mean! You scared the shit out of me!” I laughed.

  Callon gathered me in his arms before standing and flopping me over his shoulder where I hung, staring at the floor, completely unable to escape with his thick arms wrapped around my thighs while he walked towards the door. “Come, woman, I must feed you. I’m hungry, too.”

  Sixpence of Seattle’s Best

  Callon carried me through his opulent home into a state-of-the-art kitchen before sliding me down the front of his body to rest on my own two feet. I’m not gonna lie, the feeling of those hard pecs and abs made me salivate just as much as the idea of breakfast. He was right however, I was starving. “Can I help? I’m not a bad cook.”

  “I want to cook for you this morning. I make a mean omelet. You can make us another pot of coffee, though, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  I wandered around the fancy space checking out all the top-notch culinary tools and gadgets before seeing the Bunn coffee maker. Opening the cupboard revealed whole bean coffee from some specialty shop with a Seattle, Washington address. So Death was a coffee snob, who would have guessed? Jesus, this guy might really be my soul mate if he kept this shit up. I ground the beans in the Breville coffee grinder, the same one I had my eyes on during my last Kohl’s trip. I remember telling myself I was going to save up and buy one, but then I fell ill soon after. Suddenly, thinking of my time being sick seemed like a different life. Wait- it was a different life, and this was a lot to absorb. I was dead, but not. I wasn’t sick, I was in this amazing home with an incredibly attractive man who possessed every personality trait I could ever hope for in a mate. When was the other shoe going to drop? When was I going to find out all of this was some fantastic dream and I would wake up? I breathed a heavy sigh as I poured water into the coffee maker with the thought and felt strong arms loop around my waist.

  “Why the deep breath, love? Are you ok?” Callon whispered in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my neck.

  “It’s all so much, I guess. It’s wonderful- you’re wonderful! Yet I feel like it’s all going to end. I’m going to wake up sick, in pain, and when I die there isn’t going to be all of this waiting for me. I wanted this coffee grinder and it just reminded me of everything that has happened since I got cancer.”

  Turning me gently in his arms to face him, I looked up into the silver-grey eyes that were still giving me butterflies at every glance. “When you had cancer, Amara. Past tense. You are well now. You will never be sick again. You will not die and you have the option to be as happy as you want to be. Every insignificant worldly pleasure is yours to have, all you need to do is ask. In time, I’ll teach you how to acquire what you desire on your own. I don’t want you to feel like a bird in a gilded cage- you’re free to live your life how you choose. I'll support and help you in every way I can.” His eyes sparkled with affection, his smile true and honest. “Come now. Let’s eat. Pour us each another cup and come to the table with me.”

  Doing what I was told, I followed him to a hardwood table. Setting the plates down, he pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. “My lady,” he smiled and winked at me.

  “Why thank you, kind sir,” I replied in my best English accent. “This looks divine! I think I made a good call allowing you to cook. I am good, but this is...wow.” The plate held a perfectly prepared omelet bursting at the seams with colorful veggies, and a light hollandaise sauce drizzled across the top. Fresh fruit surrounded it and my mouth watered just looking at the culinary masterpiece.

  “I prepped everything early, I hope you like it.” Sitting in the chair next to mine, he att
acked the plate, forking a section of the breakfast feast into his mouth. I realized how late it must be. We sat and visited for at least two hours in the bedroom. Taking a bite, a flood of flavors hit my tongue and reminded me not only how amazing it was to be able to enjoy food, but how long it actually was since I had eaten anything. I was on an IV drip, just waiting to die for I really don’t even know how long. I moaned around my fork and Callon stopped mid-chew.

  Tossing me a sideways look, his lips tipped up in a smirk. “Be careful making those kinds of noises at my table, woman. I may end up using it for a completely different kind of feast.”

  I choked on my food at the sexual remark, although I couldn’t deny the flush creeping up my neck. I could feel my cheeks grow crimson with heat. My embarrassment wasn’t due to his flirting- it was more like the mental image the sentence created in my mind. Reaching over to pat my back, he laughed at my reaction, making my blush deepen. His hand slid up my back and slipped under my hair to squeeze my neck. “I like that color on you, love. I think I’ll make it a point to cause your cheeks to redden regularly.”

  “Ok, not helping!” I choked out, giggling like a teenage kid. My body responded to this man like no other in my past, but my brain and heart were just as smitten. A look, a light touch, even the simple fact of him in the same room kept my brain and body firing on all cylinders. It wouldn’t take much more for my entire being to spontaneously combust in his presence.

  We enjoyed the remainder of our meal in comfortable silence. I was able to contain my groans of appreciation, but not without effort. It was, bar none, the best breakfast I could remember in my lifetime. Palming his coffee mug in both hands, Callon leaned back in his chair and fixed me with a stare. “Tell me, Amara. What would you like to do today? The sky's the limit- the choice is entirely yours.”

  With no hesitation, I deadpanned, “I want to go to Disneyland.”

 

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