Touched by Death

by T. L. Martin

  Fatigue floods me, and my eyes are still closed when I speak. “Do you know who you are? Who you really are?”

  He’s quiet for a moment, nothing but silence and darkness around me as my eyes rest. I wonder if I’ve fallen asleep, if the weight of my weariness has lulled me away. But then I feel the low rumble of his voice against me, making me curl into him even more. “I’m beginning to remember.” His words are slow, almost careful. “Not all of it, but enough. Enough to know I can’t . . .” He pauses, and the foreboding tone he’s taken has my eyes fluttering open, my chin tilting up so I can look at him. His voice is hoarse when he says, “I can’t keep coming back here, Lou. I can’t—I can’t see you again.”

  I sit up too fast, a dizzy wave rushing through my head, and I wince. His hands help steady me as I shift on his lap, so we’re almost eye level. “Why would you say that? Of course you can see me again.”

  He shakes his head, a pained expression crossing over his face as he stares down at me. “It wasn’t until last night, after my evening with you,” his gaze drops to my mouth at the mention of last night, lingering, then his thumb slowly strokes my bottom lip, “that it started coming back to me. Images, memories. Most of it’s in fragments, broken pieces, but the single moment I remember with full clarity is the day of my supposed death.”

  “Supposed death? But the accident.”

  He shakes his head again, his touch still holding me captive as he trails his fingers along my jaw, into my hair. “I was there, in the car, yes. And I was as good as dead. I knew I’d lost too much blood. There was no way I was making it out of there alive.” His gaze goes distant, jaw clenching, and my heart breaks a little more. “I was already wasting away, drifting, losing consciousness. But I wasn’t dead, not entirely, when that pull from the other side came for me. I still felt a shred of life running through me—hanging by a thread, but it was there.” His eyes narrow, sparking with a quiet, simmering anger. The expression is almost intimidating enough to make me shrink back. “When the car blew, the world shifted below my feet. My surroundings changed, and then I was there. In the darkness.”

  I’m shaking my head, not wanting to believe it. What would it be like to go through something like that? It hits me now, as I really look at him, how exhausted he seems. Like someone who’s lost a week’s worth of sleep. God, if he didn’t start remembering any of this until last night, that means he’s had less than twenty-four hours to process it. I can’t even imagine coping with something like this, and all on your own, too.

  “You see, Lou?” he says vaguely. “I wasn’t dead, but I wasn’t alive. I was something in between.”

  I hear myself swallow, my mind working a million miles per second and my eyes locked on his. Something in between. “That’s . . . that’s why you were stuck? Locked in the in between, unable to reach the other side?”

  He nods slowly. “How do you cross over to the other side when you’re more than just a soul, still connected to your body? And how do you return to reality when your heart can’t remember how to function on its own? I was unfit for either world.”

  My eyes drop to the ground, taking it all in, and I find myself thinking back to the notes. His cries for help, his attempts to get his life back. “So you fought it. You somehow held on to who you were, and you tried reaching out through messages.”

  He lets out a breath, runs a hand through his hair, and leans back, his weight sinking further against the tree. “That part’s a little hazier, but I remember fighting, yes. I remember feeling that I was slipping away, forgetting everything I’d ever known. And I remember being desperate to get my life back.” His lips press together tightly, letting me glimpse that anger again. “But you can only hold on for so long in a place like that. I don’t even know how I became Death, exactly, except that over time, I’d evolved. Adjusted to my surroundings. Acclimated, until I was fully a part of that place. You stay there long enough, and you become it.”

  My stomach twists into knots, and I think I might be sick. The bile is coming up, and I have to force it back down. “So, does that mean . . . the others out there, in that place. You said before there’s more than one Death.” My eyes widen, the reality of what I’m about to say weighing heavily on me. “Does that mean they might be like you? Lost souls? Stuck, with no idea who they are?”

  His gaze drops for a moment as he considers my question. “I’d say it’s very possible.”

  I let out a loud whoosh of air, as if I’d been holding my breath for hours, and I shake my head. I don’t know where it comes from, but fresh determination rises from somewhere deep within me. “Okay, well now we know. Now we know who you are, what’s happened, and we can fix it. I can fix it. I’ll go to Mr. Blackwood—”

  “Who?” His brows are pulled together, eyes narrowed, and my face falls.

  Could he really not remember Mr. Blackwood? The very man who’s dedicated his life to helping him?

  “Y-you don’t remember who that is?”

  I can see the focus on his face as he tries to recall, but he gets nothing.

  “The man you sent your messages to. The person you contacted all those years ago.”

  Regret washes over his features, eyes closing briefly. “I’m sorry. I recall reaching out, but not to whom.”

  I stare dumbfounded for a moment, the realization of how that knowledge would affect Mr. Blackwood dawning over me. To dedicate your entire life to trying to help someone, to getting them back, and they don’t even remember who you are? It would kill him. But then, I suppose he doesn’t have to know.

  I shake the thought away, pulling my shoulders back and returning to my new plan. The words come out rushed, almost desperate, but I can’t help it. “Okay, that’s okay. He’s just someone who’s done a lot of research on this sort of thing. So, between the three of us, we can figure something out. We’ll put our heads together, and we can fix this. We can get you back.”

  The blood is coursing through me, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I start to stand, but his hands come up around mine and gently tug me back down onto his lap.

  “No.”

  I sit stunned, eyes widening. “What?”

  “I said no.” His voice is quiet but firm. Decisive. “Don’t you understand, Lou?”

  “No. No, I don’t understand why you could possibly not want to fix something like this. You’re not meant to be there. You’re meant to be here, with me.”

  He shakes his head softly, his chin dipping toward his chest. “If it could happen to me, getting trapped in that place even while I was still alive, then it could happen to you. Dammit, Lou, it already is happening to you.” His eyes squeeze shut. “Because of me. The more time I spend here in your world, the more it hurts you.”

  “What? No.” I bring my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks and gently lifting his head so he meets my gaze. “Death—” I shake my head, then correct myself. “Enzo.” His fingers come up over mine, and they tremble as I say his name. His real name. I lean in, planting a soft kiss on one cheek. “Enzo.” The other cheek. “Enzo.” And finally, his lips. “Enzo.” His fingers dig into mine, his chest rising and falling.

  “I won’t.” His words are tight, rough, the slightest quiver in his voice. “I won’t let it happen to you, Lou. You’re going to live a full life, here, where you belong. You’ll get married, have a family if you want. Grow old, be free, always knowing who you are.” He stops, giving his head a small, firm shake. “I won’t let it take you.”

  I pull back slightly, my hands still locked on either side of his face by his own grip, and I watch as he swallows hard. “You can’t blame yourself for what’s happening to me. You saved my life, remember?” He says nothing, a sense of torment clouding his expression that tears me up inside. I lean forward again and press my forehead to his, my eyes falling closed at the same time his do.

  “In so many ways, Enzo, you saved me.”

  Chapter 42

  We sit like that for a long while, tangled up in
each other’s arms, each other’s warmth. Listening to the sounds of our rapid breathing. The crisp breeze pulls at the collar of my coat, the strands of my hair, intermingling with his fiery strokes of heat that slip beneath my clothes and caress every inch of me. When his eyes open, they’re heavy-lidded, his gaze dropping to my mouth. My pulse picks up, my lips parting as I lick them. His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes cloud over.

  Slowly, he lowers his head, and he presses his lips to mine in the softest kiss I’ve ever felt. It’s feather light, a tender whisper, and a sigh pours out of my mouth and into his. My arms fall to my sides, my muscles melting beneath his touch. His hands come up to gently hold my face, fingers grazing my hair as he pulls me closer. When he slides his tongue into my mouth, it’s slow and steady, deliberately so.

  Almost like he’s savoring the taste of me.

  Almost like he’s saying goodbye.

  My chest tightens so painfully I’m sure it’s about to burst, and I sink into him, spreading my legs enough to wrap them fully around his hips. I squeeze my thighs, making sure he feels the same pressure building in my chest, and a groan sounds from low within him. One hand glides leisurely down my back until it rests on my hips, then he’s pulling me in with one swift motion. I connect with the full length of him between my thighs, hard and ready, and I grind, reminding him of how I feel, of what it’s like to be inside me. A husky roar vibrates into my mouth, and I swallow it down with a moan of my own.

  His other hand slips from my hair to grip my waist, and he’s pulling me closer, using his strength to press me harder against him. I bite down on his lip in surprise at the way he hits me just right, his heat radiating straight through the fabric of my pants. Suddenly he’s standing with my legs still wrapped around him, his hands propping me up. He turns us so my back’s against the tree, and he presses his full weight into me in the most delicious way possible.

  The position reminds me of that first night he showed himself to me, when he’d sandwiched me against a tree so he wouldn’t be pulled away, and the thought sends a silent tear down my cheek, a quiet quiver through my body. He pulls his lips from mine, his gaze focusing on me, following the tear as it slides. Time stands still as he gently brushes the hair back from my face. He leans down and closes his eyes, sprinkling soft kisses over my skin, from the bottom of my jaw where the tear has landed, to the apple of my cheek.

  When he pulls back, we lock eyes, green against brown. An electric wave bounces between us, a constant energy tugging us closer, closer. We don’t say a word. We don’t need to. His eyes glitter below his lashes, struggling not to overflow with all the emotions they hold back. Hard muscles contract beneath my grasp on his shoulders, his solid build shaking slightly as he lets out a ragged breath.

  Watching him, taking in all the little details, only makes the tears come harder—he really is saying goodbye.

  My fingers dig into his T-shirt as I pull him into me, lips parting and latching onto his. He groans, tilting his head down and exploring my mouth deeper as the grip supporting my weight squeezes. I slip my hand beneath his shirt and take in the hard contours of his body, from the ripple of his abs up to the smooth lines of his chest, then back down again until I’m teasing the hem of his jeans. His muscles tighten against my palm, and his erection grinds into me in response. He tears his mouth away from mine, moving down to the curve of my neck, right where I like it. I sigh into it, the feeling of his tongue on my skin, sucking and biting and riling me up.

  I angle my head to make sure he can hear me when I whisper through uneven breaths, “Mark me, Enzo.” His lips go still against my throat, his chest heaving against mine. “I don’t ever want to belong to anyone but you.”

  A deep sound vibrates through his body, then he’s unbuttoning my jeans and his lips are back in action. A strong, warm hand slides beneath my underwear, rubbing right against my wetness, and I cry out as my head falls back. Then it’s gone, his hand and lips, and I bring my head back up, dazed eyes trying to focus. It’s not until I feel the tug at my hips that I look down. He’s on his knees, thumbs hooked into the loopholes of my jeans as he slides them down my thighs, and he’s already working on my underwear before I’ve even stepped out of the pants or shoes.

  I’m uncovered within seconds, wearing nothing but a top and my knee-length coat. I’m outside. Secluded, but outside. And I don’t even care. Hell, I can’t even think straight while he’s still down there, eyes level with my nakedness and hot breaths brushing my thighs. My pulse is erratic, my breathing rough in anticipation. He spreads my thighs, then props them over his broad shoulders so my weight falls on him and the tree. I’m wide open to him now, and his fingertips dig into my hips as he takes in the sight.

  “Fuck, Lou.” It’s a raw, almost agonized sound, and it sends sparks down to my toes.

  Then he leans forward, and I suck in a breath.

  When that first stroke of his tongue slides over me, my legs clench around him and my back arches. Then his whole mouth is on me, kissing and tasting. I can’t suppress the mewls that pour out of me when he flicks his tongue again, up and down, around and around. When he sucks, I cry out, and he groans into me, the sound causing a deep vibration to ripple through my core. My hands are in his hair, pulling and tugging as I squirm against him, but he’s relentless in his exploration, his grip on my hips holding me to his face.

  “Oh god, oh god. I’m gonna . . . I’m gonna . . .” His fingers slip inside me, long and deep, adding to the pressure of his swirling tongue, and I can’t hold back. I scream, my hips bucking against his face and his hands keeping me firmly planted in place. The aftershocks pour over me, my body shuddering against him. Finally, it simmers, and my head falls back against the tree. It takes me a second to get my breathing under control. “Holy shit.”

  I’m still on a cloud when he shifts beneath me, my bare feet touching the dirt as he stands. His lips are tilted up, a hint of a crooked smile, as he lowers his mouth to my ear. Warm breath teases my neck, strong hands slowly traveling down my waist, and my eyes flutter shut.

  His voice is quiet and husky. “Are you tired, Lou?”

  I swallow, my throat suddenly thick, and I feel my head shake side to side in answer.

  “That’s good.” His tongue grazes my ear, then he pulls the lobe into his mouth and sucks. When his fingers slip under my shirt and softly stroke the thin lace over my breast, a shiver runs down my spine, a fresh ache forming between my legs. “Because I’m not done marking you yet.”

  I barely have time to register what he’s said when he’s flipping me over so my cheek is against the soft tree bark. His heat envelopes me as he inches closer from behind, my breath catching in my chest as I feel him approach. My wrists are pulled over my head as he pins them to the tree with one hand. His tongue is on my neck, his front pressing against my back, and my entire body sighs against him.

  When I arch my back, grinding my butt against his hard length, a rough growl sounds by my ear and a hand wraps around my front, grabbing hold of my bare breast beneath my bra. I moan, my forehead resting against the tree.

  “Is this what you want?” he growls softly. “To be mine?”

  His fingers trail down, down, down, until they slide just over my entrance, not quite slipping inside. I’m breathless when I answer, “Yes, that’s what I want.”

  My mouth falls open when I’m quickly spun around, his chest pressing against mine as his lips come crashing down. The kiss starts out hard, rough, demanding, my eyes closing as he rolls his hips against mine. But soon, it slows, gentles, teases. I hear him swallow as he pulls back, rests his forehead against mine. When I open my eyes, his are closed, his chest rising and falling as he pants, struggling to calm his breathing. The hard ridges of his arms contract, his jaw tightens.

  “What is it?” I breathe.

  He lets out a deep breath, then slowly opens his eyes. The look he gives me twists my heart. From the tenderness in his eyes to the hard set of his jaw. From the thick swallow in hi
s throat to the stock-still stance of his body, rigid and tense as he gently closes my coat, covering me up.

  “Lou,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, pained. “You will never be mine.”

  “What?” My face falls, an ache creeping into my chest and forming hundreds of tiny knots. “But I am—”

  “No, you’re not. If you were mine, I wouldn’t fuck you against a tree in the middle of winter. I’d bring you to a warm bed and make love to you beside the fireplace. If you were mine, I’d wake up with you every morning and remind you how it feels to be loved by me. If you were mine, Lou . . . you wouldn’t need me to mark you, because you’d know.”

  I’ve never been stunned speechless before. Never, until this moment. My breath hitches, chest swelling, as I stay frozen in place.

  He takes a step back, away from me, and I already know where this is leading before his form starts to waver. He dips his head, glancing down at his feet before dragging those eyes back up to meet mine. He’s gentle, quiet. “As for me, I’ve been yours since the day I met you.” My heart stops, time freezing as I assimilate the words on his lips, devouring them whole. “You may never be mine, but I’ll always be yours.”

  And then he’s gone.

  Nothing but a barren meadow and a shattered heart in his wake.

  Chapter 43

  Back when I was young and hopped up on Disney fairytales, I had asked my dad if soulmates existed, and how I was supposed to know when I found mine.

  He looked me in the eye and said, “Well I don’t know if there are soulmates, but there sure as hell is your someone. It’s easy to know once you’ve found them, though. Do you know why?”

  I shook my head, thirsty for more. I wanted the Beast to my Beauty, and I was going to get him.

  “Because with a single look, they can make you see the best parts of who you are. The purest version of yourself will be reflected in them. And when they walk away . . .” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as he gave a soft shake of his head. “When they walk away, they’ll take a piece of you with them. Do you see, pumpkin? When you’re with your someone, you can’t help but feel it deep within your bones.”