Tempted by His Wicked Kiss

by Zoey Williams

  They walked a few blocks before Charlotte led Jack to a little alleyway hidden from view of the throngs of people eagerly awaiting the ball drop. Her plan was to put them in the middle of the celebration, to lose themselves in the crowd, but right now the only thing she wanted was a few moments of privacy before Jack disappeared from her life altogether.

  She found a little wooden pallet and picked a few bits of trash off of it before sitting down. The alleyway was dingy and no tourists were standing back there despite it offering a decent view of the crowd and dazzling lights of Times Square. But when she was hiding under the bed she’d overheard Cal say he hated to search for souls in this part of the city because of the lights, so right now it was the safest place she could think of.

  Jack sat down next to her and drew her in close, wrapping his arm around her so that his coat covered them both. She threaded her hands through the space between his shirt and his heavy jacket, knowing this would probably be the last time she would ever feel his embrace again.

  Though they were out of view from the frenzied atmosphere just a block ahead of them, they could hear the crowd’s screams and cheers increase in volume. Midnight was approaching and, judging by the crowd’s enthusiasm, it was just a few minutes away.

  Jack rested his chin on the top of her head. “When I said I wished this night would never end, I meant it,” he said.

  The sound of his voice made a lump rise in her throat. But she refused to cry. Because soon something terrible would happen to Jack and she had to be strong for him. For them.

  “Are you scared?” she asked, her face flush against his chest.

  She could feel Jack shake his head. “I keep telling myself that I can take whatever punishment comes to me because it’ll already be nothing in comparison to losing you forever. I wish I could get all those years back and had gotten to know you when we were younger, had more time with you. I hate the idea of never seeing you again.”

  Charlotte tried to keep her voice from cracking. “You don’t know that to be true. The afterlife works in mysterious ways. You know that.”

  He gently pulled away from her and searched her face. His eyes were pained, a deeper shade of gray. “Charlotte, when you die, you’re not going to the Underworld. You have a beautiful, good soul. The purple aura proves that. But even without having the mark, anyone would realize that just by looking at you, speaking with you...loving you.”

  As he leaned in to kiss her, she felt something wrap around her waist and

  forcefully pull her backwards, as if a massive hook had caught her around her middle. When she looked and down saw Cal’s beefy arm around her stomach, recognizing the tattoos speckling the tops of his hands, she screamed. But no one could hear her over the wild cries of the crowd.

  Cal gripped her shoulders with his hands, his fingers painfully digging into the flesh. “You think you’re smarter than me? You think I don’t remember what I said back at the library? That I hate Times Square?”

  “TEN!” she heard millions of people call in the distance.

  “NINE!”

  “EIGHT!”

  “I figured you must’ve been hiding, you little bitch. But there’s no hiding anymore!” he crooned into her ear.

  Jack tried to pull Cal’s arms off of her, but he kicked him square in his torso and Jack fell to the ground clutching his abdomen. He tried to get on his hands and knees, but his body swayed, his head drooping as he fell back to the ground. She screamed his name, but he didn’t respond.

  “FIVE!” The sound of the crowd echoed in the alleyway.

  Suddenly, Cal turned her around in his viselike grip so that she could face him. He sneered, revealing a mouthful of crooked, stained teeth. “I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he remarked as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her close to him. She tried to writhe away, but he was too strong. Before she could think, his lips were on hers and she could taste something putrid in her mouth as she felt him breathe in deeply, like he was sucking the life out of her. Soon, she felt lightheaded and somehow not solid, like her body was being diluted and washed away like rain falling on a pile of disintegrating snow. Another frantic scream escaped her lips, but all she heard was the countdown ringing in her ears.

  “THREE!”

  “TWO!”

  A force jolted her on the side, slamming her to the ground. When she lifted her head, Jack’s face was near hers. He must’ve tackled her and Cal in an attempt to break his grasp. Jack grunted, trying to wedge himself between the two of them, trying to break the connection. He punched Cal in the face with a powerful right hook. Her eyes felt heavy, like all the energy had been siphoned from her body. The last thing she saw was Jack pulling Cal away from her before he had another chance to breathe her in once more.

  A darkness crept into her peripheral vision until it dimmed altogether. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The sidewalk was cold beneath her head and the back of her skull throbbed from when she must’ve slammed into it. Her throat felt constricted, as if she’d been choked. She’d had the wind knocked out of her. Lying on the hard ground, unable to move, her eyes stared unblinkingly into the night sky like a corpse.

  Then, as if something had just snapped its fingers, all the sensations vanished. Her vision and hearing returned to her and she felt her chest gulp for air. She sat up and felt herself and her surroundings—the softness and weight of her clothes, her tangled hair, the rough, gritty asphalt underneath her. She was still in the alley. Cal and Jack where nowhere to be seen. They’d vanished.

  Next to her, though, was a man lying face up on the pavement. He didn’t look like Jack, but somehow she had the feeling that he could pass for Jack’s brother if he’d ever had any siblings. His nose was a little thinner than Jack’s, his eyes were slightly almond-shaped, and Jack’s usual dark military cut was replaced with a wild mop of dirty-blond hair.

  She crawled over and put her hand on his chest and his eyes—a sparkling hunter green—flew open as he sucked in a deep breath. It was like a man who’d dove far under the sea had finally come up for air. “Charlotte,” he breathed.

  “Jack?” she asked hesitantly. “Is that—is that you?”

  “Charlotte!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her. “Are we still here in the alley?” he asked urgently.

  “I think so,” she said. “Is—is that...really you?” she asked, her breath hitching.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Yes. The voice returned, Charlotte. It was all a test.” A huge smile stretched across his face; he was beaming. He had a faraway look in his eyes, like a man who had just traveled a long way.

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked. “What do you mean, it was a test?”

  “We were meant to choose, and our choices would put us where we deserved to be. There was no admittance to Above if you stole a soul. It was the exact opposite. When Cal attempted to steal your soul, he showed his true colors and went to the Underworld. And the fact that I resisted, that I couldn’t bring myself to do it, well, I got rewarded.”

  “So you were offered to go to Heaven?”

  Jack smiled. “Yes.”

  Charlotte motioned around them. “But we’re not in Heaven. We’re just...right here. In the same alley,” she looked down at herself and then clutched the collar of Jack’s coat, feeling the fabric. “We’re both...alive.”

  He leaned in and kissed her. When he pulled back he whispered, “That’s because I asked the voice if I could stay. Have another chance at life. Another chance at...being with you. I didn’t want to leave you, Charlotte.”

  She laughed, practically delirious with joy. She pulled him close, letting happy tears fall onto his jacket. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Jack squeezed her back for a long moment, kissing her tear-streaked cheeks. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  Charlotte sniffed a few times, letting the laughter bubble to the surface again. She leaned back and fumble
d through her bag to find a small cosmetic mirror. She snapped the case open and handed it to him. “Look,” she said. “Something else has happened.”

  Jack drew the mirror up to his face and studied his new self. “Whoa.” He moved the mirror away to inspect his new hair and clothes. He palmed the front of his jacket until he stopped suddenly. He dipped his fingers into one of the pockets and drew out a leather wallet. Opening it carefully, his eyes widened when they caught a new driver’s license staring at him through its plastic holder. He brought it up to his face and inspected it. “Jason Brooks,” he read. He held it up so she could see.

  “That must be...me,” he said in awe.

  She took the wallet from him and opened the billfold. Two pieces of paper were folded neatly inside, one much thicker than the other. She gingerly removed them from the leather pocket and slowly unfolded them.

  The smaller one was a social security card. The other was much bigger and it took her a second before she recognized what it was. Because she had one, packed away among her things, just like it.

  “A high school diploma,” she said before passing it to him. “You’ve been given a new life.”

  “Our new life,” he corrected as he drew her in for another hug, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

  Epilogue

  A few weeks later

  Charlotte looked herself over in the mirror. Her blond, curly hair, which she’d cut to shoulder-length, peeked out from underneath a knit hat with a sparkly flower appliqué. She had on a pair of black leather riding boots that came knee-high over her dark wash jeans and a pale yellow long-sleeved thermal shirt. She put on mascara and a strong red lipstick. No more of the vagabond look; she looked and felt more put together, more polished. And to top the whole ensemble off, she had a sturdy canvas tote bag filled with books and course materials and a brand-new cashmere pea coat that Jack—well, Jason Brooks—had given her as a belated Christmas present. It was light purple in color—a secret joke between the two of them.

  She thought about New Year’s Day constantly. It was like a ghost that followed her around, always infiltrating her thoughts. It was still such a shock. That day, she and Jack had walked around the city in awe. They’d held hands and Charlotte found herself absentmindedly pinching his warm, calloused thumb. She’d nearly pinched herself. They walked from Times Square to Central Park, stealing kisses as they waited to cross streets. When they got there, they sat on a bench and shared a crinkled paper sleeve of cinnamon almonds. Jack finished the bag and brought each of Charlotte’s fingers to his mouth to taste the sticky, sugary sweetness. She giggled at the sensation. It was like they were in high school again. The sun was setting before either of them remembered to count the money in Charlotte’s bag.

  Needing privacy, they’d snuck into Bryant Park after closing time—the only illegal thing he’d do in his new life, Jack promised—and spread the money out on one of the small, cold metal tables deep inside the park, out of view from the street. Charlotte had dug into her bag and began to pull out stacks. And stacks. And more stacks. Until the table was completely covered in neatly rubber-banded cash. It turned out that Charlotte’s money wasn’t the only money Cal had had stashed in his backpack. He had more on him when he died—much more. A few months’ worth of holdups, at least. They divided the pile and began to count. After ten minutes, they looked up and told each other what they’d counted. She and Jack sat in silence for a moment when they both added the final total in their heads. It was more money than she had ever seen in one place in her entire life. That night they stayed at the Bryant Park Hotel—one of the fanciest in all of Manhattan—and called up an apartment broker the first thing the next morning. The second call they made was to her old university. She would return to school January 18th.

  Charlotte spun around in a slow circle and took in her surroundings, excited that January 18th was now just a day away. Their new apartment was quaint and just a few blocks from her school’s campus. The neighborhood had families instead of gangs, coffee shops instead of liquor stores, strollers instead of syringes. It was the perfect place to start a new life. The bedroom still smelled of the light blue paint she and Jack had picked for the room a few days earlier. It reminded her of the sky on a spring day. The hardwood was so polished she could almost see her reflection in it. Her new closet was half-full with clothes, and the furniture—a bed, desk, chair, and armoire—had finally been delivered that week. Draped over the chair was Jack’s training uniform shirt.

  Jack sat bare-chested on the bed, his hands folded behind his head as he leaned back on the headboard. The academy required him to cut his hair short, but his new blond locks were still long enough to be deliciously disheveled. This week, she knew, consisted of particularly taxing physical fitness tests. Each night, Jack came home all roughed-up, his face and uniform shirt dirt-streaked, smelling like sweat and musk. Masculine. But that wasn’t nearly as sexy as the fact that he was becoming the guy she knew he was all along. A man with protective instincts, strong morals, a good heart. She couldn’t be prouder—or more pleasantly surprised—that he’d decided to become a police officer.

  And as tired as she knew he undoubtedly was, he still didn’t allow his eyes to close. Instead, they were transfixed on her as she changed in and out of a few outfit choices for her first day of her last semester of school. Her chest tightened with excitement. She’d graduate this year. And Jack would be by her side.

  She’d felt his gaze on her, sometimes meeting it in the mirror in front of her. It still made her pulse race when he devoured every inch of her with his stare. She’d tempted him, teased him as peeled off every blouse, slipped in and out of each pair of jeans, shimmying a little in his direction or bending over a little further than she needed to when she did so.

  She spun on her heel. “What do you think?” she asked. “First day of school after a year’s absence is quite a big deal. I want to look perfect, make a good impression.”

  “You look great,” Jack responded. His mouth quirked. “But you do know your first class doesn’t start for another ten hours, right?”

  Charlotte laughed. “Yes, I know. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

  Jack stood up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. They stood for a moment studying each other in the mirror hung on the back of Charlotte’s closet door. She was still getting used to Jack’s new physical features. With his blond hair and slightly altered face, he was every bit as handsome as the “old” Jack, but he looked like he could pass for an unknown relative of Jack. Thankfully, when they first moved in and “christened” their new bedroom, one of the physical traits she liked about Jack the most had stayed the same.

  “You’re going to do great tomorrow,” Jack said against her ear. “And then you’ll be the best damn school counselor anyone’s ever seen.”

  The thought of becoming the academic professional she would’ve killed to have throughout her school career made her lift her chin just a little. Someone to talk to when kids were teasing her about her interest in the paranormal. Someone Jack could’ve seen and steered him back on the right path, showed him the value of an education over the instant money and immediate gratification of a life of crime. And a year after she graduated, it’d be Jack’s turn, lined up with hundreds of others in their crisp navy blue uniforms.

  Jack pushed away some of the blond curls at the nape of her neck and kissed her there. “I’m so proud of you,” he said. “And I’m so sorry it took you an extra year to get here.”

  Charlotte turned to face him. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said, meaning it. “The thought of you helping any kid who currently is where you were, of preventing something bad from happening to an innocent person, more than makes up for it. Most people never have the guts to turn their life around.”

  She kissed him on his slightly fuller lips, but pulled away with a laugh. “You stink,” she said matter-of-factly. “So badly.”

  Jack turned his head and sniffed his should
er. “Oh god, you’re right. Training was brutal. We all pretty much sweated out as much water as we drank today. Well, as much water as we could keep down without throwing it up.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Some of the guys in your group actually threw up?”

  “Yep. The captains have been cruel this week.”

  She laughed again. “You need to take a shower.”

  “Sure,” Jack said, a mischievous look forming on his face. “If you join me.”

  She smiled and shrugged out of her pea coat, letting it fall to the floor. She lifted the thermal over her head, exposing her sheer, nude-colored bra. Her hardened nipples strained against the see-through fabric. She let her hands fall to her waist, but when she started to undo the button fly of her jeans, Jack stopped her.

  “Let me do that,” he said, his voice lowered. He grabbed the top of her jeans and pulled her towards him.

  His lips were on hers as he expertly undid her fly and pulled her jeans down a few inches, just enough to allow his hands to slide inside and cup her ass. He pressed himself against her and she could feel the thick outline of his arousal in his uniform pants. He began to trace a line of kisses down her jawline and to her neck when he removed one hand from the back of her pants and undid the clasp of her bra.

  The straps slid down her shoulders until her breasts were fully exposed. Jack brought his mouth to one nipple, licking and biting gently, as his hand massaged the other. Charlotte bent her head back and exhaled deeply, feeling herself getting wet. She pressed a hand to his chest and silently pushed him away before shimmying out of her jeans and boots and letting her bra slide down her arms and join the pile of her clothes on the floor.

  Clad in only her lacy black thong, she clasped his hand and led him to the bathroom. She needed him now.

  Charlotte pulled back the shower curtain and bent to turn the water on. She felt Jack behind her, his hands splayed on her lower back, his fingers tracing the line where the top of her thong met her skin. It sent a shiver up her spine as she tried to concentrate on regulating the temperature of the water. When she pressed in the little chrome button to turn the shower on, one of Jack’s fingers hooked over the lace and pulled her thong down.