Grave Attraction

by Lori Sjoberg

  Glancing down, he checked his phone for messages again and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. No messages meant no emergencies, which was good because he didn’t have enough energy to deal with them.

  Martin returned from the bathroom and reclaimed his seat across from Adam. Since his next reap was down in the tourist corridor, he was dressed to blend in a pair of cargo shorts and a Universal Studios T-shirt. The waitress had dropped off their orders while he was gone, and he drenched his pancakes in a river of syrup before digging in. “When’s your next appointment?” he asked between bites.

  “Eleven thirty. You?”

  “About an hour.” Which explained why he was bolting down his breakfast like he hadn’t eaten in a week. To make it across town with enough time to spare, he’d have to get on the road soon. He shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth and washed it down with a big swig of coffee. After swallowing, he glanced up at Adam. His expression shifted to one of concern. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been acting weird since you got here.”

  Adam lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

  That was an understatement. And even when he’d managed a few minutes of shut-eye, he’d dreamed of the sexy shifter. But instead of appearing as she did today, she’d looked younger, sweeter, and with a lot more spirit in her eyes. Her hair had also been longer, hanging a few inches past her slim waist. Was the image the product of his wild imagination, or was it a memory from the time they were married? He’d have to ask the next time they spoke.

  Martin stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head, his bangs falling into his face. “No, it’s more than that. Talk to me, man. What’s going on?”

  He so wasn’t going there with Martin, not when he could barely understand it himself. Fighting the urge to squirm in his chair, he met the other reaper’s questioning gaze. “It’s no big deal. Just women stuff.”

  Martin nodded as if that explained everything. “Ah. Gotcha. Is it the new waitress at Shackles? I saw you scoping her out last week.”

  “Nah, different one.”

  Martin froze, a forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth. “Damn, you work fast. Does that mean I can move on the waitress?”

  “Sure, go for it.”

  “Huh,” Martin said between bites. “Must be serious.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know what it is.”

  When he finished his meal, Martin wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin on his empty plate. He drank one last swig of coffee before standing. “If you decide you want to talk, I’m a phone call away.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  The second Martin was out the door, Adam picked up his phone and dialed Marlena’s number. She answered on the second ring, her voice sounding kind of rough.

  “Did I wake you?” Adam asked.

  “No. I’m just tired.”

  Good to know he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept well. “I dreamed about you last night.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “I’m not sure. Was your hair longer when we—” He stopped himself, cursing under his breath. “When you were married to Christopher?”

  “Yes. Back then I wore it down past my waist.”

  Adam’s heart thudded in his chest. In his dream, he’d wrapped her hair around his hand and used it to pull her head back. She’d gasped with surprise and then purred with pleasure as he’d ravished her mouth, her neck, before taking them both to the floor. Was it just a dream or a memory from the past? Body tight, he shifted in his seat. “Why’d you cut it?”

  An uncomfortable silence stretched out before she answered. “It wasn’t my choice,” she finally said. “Most of it burned off in the fire.”

  Way to go, dumbass. Why don’t you ask her what it felt like to be burned alive while you’re at it? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

  “No, it’s okay.” But she didn’t sound okay. Her voice sounded thin, diminished, and it pained him to know he’d been the cause.

  “When can I see you?” he asked, determined to set things right. “Tonight?”

  Another pause. “I can’t. I have plans with the twins.”

  “Cancel them.”

  “I can’t. I promised—”

  “Marlena,” he said, not bothering to mask his impatience, “After everything I learned yesterday, the least you could do is clear a few hours on your calendar.”

  He could have sworn he heard her growl.

  “I’d love to see you,” she said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice, “but I have obligations that require my attention.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like making sure no one I care about gets kidnapped and murdered.”

  “Oh.” Great. Now he felt like a selfish ass.

  The waitress stopped by to top off his coffee and drop off the check. Adam mouthed a quick thank you before directing his attention back to Marlena. “How about after? Can I see you then?”

  “I’m not sure when I’ll get back to the apartment.”

  The apartment? Adam straightened in his chair. “Why aren’t you staying with Cassie? It’s not safe at your place.”

  She made a dismissive sound. “Relax, everything’s fine. The window’s been replaced, and I installed new locks and an alarm.”

  The thought of her being alone in the apartment triggered every protective urge he possessed. “Call me when you get there, and I’ll come over. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

  A laugh came over the phone. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

  “What can I say? It’s how I roll.” His father had called it perseverance, while his mother had preferred the term pigheaded. From the sound of Marlena’s voice, he could tell she was wavering, so he decided to move in for the kill. He knew his shifter had a sweet tooth, and he planned on using it to his advantage. “Come on, what do you say? If you let me come over, I’ll bring strudel.”

  She made a throaty sound at the mention of strudel, and he couldn’t help but smile.

  “Well, I suppose. But if I’m late getting home, we’ll have to settle for another time.”

  “How late is too late?”

  She huffed. “What is this, a negotiation?”

  “No, I’m just being thorough. You wouldn’t want me waiting all night by the phone, would you?”

  “I seriously doubt you’re the kind of guy who waits by the phone for any woman.”

  “I am when it comes to you.”

  She didn’t say anything for nearly a minute. “Ten o’clock. If I’m not home by then, we’ll have to meet another time.”

  “Sounds good.” He fished his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out enough cash to cover the bill and the tip. “But I still want you to call me, no matter how late you get in. I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re safe in your apartment.”

  Her voice softened. “Okay.”

  “And, kitten?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 19

  After a bit of creative rescheduling, Marlena met with the twins two hours earlier than planned and showed them ways to tighten security around their restaurant.

  They already had a couple cameras installed, but she recommended they add a few more to give better coverage around the parking lot and along the rear by the dumpster. The bigger problem was from the lack of lighting behind the building, though it wasn’t anything three or four well-placed floodlights couldn’t solve. Finally, she stressed the importance of having all of the employees leave at the same time after closing to ensure safety in numbers.

  When they finished, the twins insisted she stay for dinner, and by the time Marlena stepped into her apartment it was a few minutes shy of seven. She’d called Adam as soon as she locked the front door, and he said he’d be there by eight.

  But here it was, fiftee
n minutes past eight, and still no sign of Adam. Maybe he got stuck in traffic or was working late on a difficult assignment. He was a reaper, after all, and his job was far from ordinary. Or maybe he’d changed his mind and didn’t want anything to do with her. The latter option put a knot in her stomach.

  She was thinking of calling him again when she heard the rumble of a truck in the parking lot. Crossing to the window, she peered through the blinds and saw Adam’s black pickup swing into the spot next to her car. The engine shut off, he stepped out of the cab, and her heart nearly gave out at the sight of him. He wore faded blue denim and a black T-shirt that accentuated his lean, muscular chest. His short brown hair was windblown, leading her to believe the truck’s air-conditioning was still on the fritz. And in his hands was a bakery box with the Polish restaurant’s logo on the side.

  Stepping away from the blinds, Marlena drew a deep breath and ordered herself to get a grip. He was here, which meant he wanted to talk, which meant they still had a chance.

  The doorbell rang, and she shook off the last of her nerves before opening the door.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, sounding sincere. “Traffic on Colonial was a beast.” He handed her the bakery box, the bottom warm from the pastries inside. “Apple strudel, as promised.”

  “Thanks. And thank you for coming.” Just looking at him made her knees weak. She opened the door wider so he could enter. When he passed, she smelled the faint remnants of his aftershave and fought the temptation to lean closer. She shut the door and set the box on the counter. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  He turned to face her and shook his head. “No, thanks. Maybe later.”

  There was a long, awkward stretch of silence where she didn’t know what to say to fill the void. Finally, she blurted, “I take it you have questions?”

  “Yeah.” He blinked, and his focus moved away from her eyes, slowly taking in her appearance. He had on his cop face, making it impossible to tell what was going on inside his head. Then he coughed as he took a seat on the couch and crossed one ankle over his knee. “How long have you known my soul was bonded with yours?”

  That was easy. “Since the first time you came to Cassie’s house. I sensed something as soon as I opened the door, but I didn’t recognize what it was until I saw you sitting in the living room with Dmitri.”

  His gaze sharpened. “I really wish you’d said something earlier.”

  “Like what? ‘Hey, you don’t know me, but I’m your soul mate’? How well do you think that would have gone over?”

  Adam nodded, conceding the point. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it without speaking.

  “What is it?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to ask anything that’ll bring up bad memories.”

  “Trust me, you can’t get any worse than what we covered last night.” Granted, she’d done a lot of things she wasn’t proud of, but all of those memories paled in comparison to being burned at the stake. Not wanting to crowd him, she sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Go on, ask away.”

  His lips pressed together, and something flickered in his eyes as if he were mentally debating what to ask. He slid closer, and the feel of his hand gripping hers warmed her entire body. “I suppose we can pick up where we left off. Tell me what happened after Christopher died. How did you survive on your own?”

  Marlena stared down at their joined hands as her mind traveled back to the past. “It took almost two weeks for the burns to heal. Once they did, I returned to the village at night. At first, I only went for food and supplies, but then I went back for retribution. Reverend Finch had already left, so I took out my vengeance on the people who’d participated in the trials.” If she closed her eyes, she could still see the terror on their faces when she woke them in their beds. Before slitting their throats, she made sure each one knew who she was and why she was there. “One of them told me where the witch finder was heading, so when I finished, I set off in that direction.”

  “How many did you kill?”

  “Seven, including the judge who sentenced us to death and the man who lit the fire.”

  She looked up, fully expecting to find him horrified by what she’d done. But instead, she saw understanding on his face, and she let out a sigh of relief.

  “Did you ever find the reverend?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I searched for almost ten years without any luck. There were rumors that he died of the pox, but I also heard he was subjected to his own tests and executed as a witch. I never found out which one was true.” Personally, she hoped it was the latter. The bastard deserved to suffer the same misery he’d inflicted on countless others.

  “What did you do after that?” Adam asked, urging her to continue.

  “For a while, I traveled with a group of Gypsies.”

  His jaw went slack. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “Gypsies?”

  She held back a laugh. “You got a problem with Gypsies?”

  “No, not at all. I’m just having a hard time picturing you dressed as one.”

  “That’s because you’re thinking in stereotypes. In reality, they dressed just like everyone else.” During that time the Romani people, also known as Gypsies, were widely persecuted across Europe. Some countries subjected them to ethnic cleansing, while others deported them to the new world. The band she traveled with eventually headed east to Russia, where they were treated more fairly as long as they paid their taxes.

  Putting down roots was her cue to leave, and she spent the next century wandering through Europe, never staying in any one place for long until she found herself in Ireland. Once there, she fell in love with the city of Dublin, but the Great Famine drove her to a ship destined for the United States. And there she remained, moving every decade or two before the locals realized she didn’t age like everyone else.

  She lifted her gaze, meeting his, and the mate bond strengthened from a faint pulse to a strong, steady rhythm. Sensual awareness flashed through every nerve in her body, quickening her heart rate and making her hot for his touch. Edgy and restless, she licked her lips, and his eyes tracked the movement.

  “You sure you don’t want anything to drink?” she asked, her mouth suddenly feeling parched. If she didn’t put some distance between them soon, she’d end up doing something foolish. “I was going to get one for myself.”

  “If you don’t mind, I could use a beer.”

  She got up from the couch, crossed to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Adam followed closely behind, leaning against the counter by the sink. She pulled out two bottles and nudged the door closed with her hip.

  “What’s this?” Adam asked, and she glanced in his direction. In his hand was the vial of potion Cassie created to restore Christopher’s memories.

  Marlena’s heart leaped into her throat.

  “It’s nothing.” Struggling to stay calm, she set down the bottles and reached for the potion. “Here, let me—”

  His hand closed around the vial. “My name’s on it. Tell me what it is.”

  Shit. She should have thrown the damn potion away, but with everything going on, she’d forgotten she left it on the counter. And since he wasn’t about to let the matter drop, she’d have to put on her big-girl panties and tell him the truth.

  Steeling her nerves, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “After I told Cassie about your past lives, she created a potion to restore your memories. Well, Christopher’s, actually. She thought you might want to remember the way things used to be between us. When you were … you know …” She made a vague gesture with her hands.

  Something shifted in his expression, tightening the angles of his face and darkening the depths of his eyes. “Is it supposed to give me Christopher’s memories, or turn me into him?”

  “Cassie wasn’t sure. It’s why I didn’t—”

  “You want him back that badly?”

  “Of course not! Well, I did at first, but not anymore.
”

  “Oh really? If you didn’t want him back, why did you keep it?” The accusation in his voice made it perfectly clear he didn’t believe a single word she said. “What were you waiting for, the perfect time to slip it in my drink so I wouldn’t know what you were doing?”

  “Adam, please. Listen to me.” She gripped his forearm and his muscles bunched at the contact. “I didn’t want to use it, but—”

  “You know what? I don’t want to hear it.” He twisted the lid off and tossed it aside.

  “No!” She lunged for the vial, but he held it beyond her reach. Twisting around, he stalked back into the living room, and before she could grab for it again, he tipped the bottle back and swallowed its contents.

  On the heels of a gasp, his face puckered up and his eyes pinched tight. “Shit, that’s bitter.”

  Panic raced through her veins. She couldn’t think of anything else to do, so she punched him in the stomach. Hard. The air whooshed from his lungs as his eyes flew open and he doubled over. She hit him again, harder this time, and he let out a guttural groan. Maybe if she forced him to throw up the potion, it wouldn’t have a chance to reach its full effect.

  When she went in low for another blow, he caught her wrist and yanked her off balance. Before she regained her equilibrium, he whirled her around, shoved her facedown on the couch, and used his weight to pin her. She thrashed, trying to throw him off, but lacked the leverage to be successful.

  “You’re just going to wear yourself out,” he said, his breath hot against her ear. He grabbed her one free flailing arm and braced it against her side.

  “Let me up!”

  “Why, so you can hit me again? I don’t think so.” He adjusted his weight, making it impossible for her to do anything but stare at the cushions along the back of the couch.

  “But you can’t—I don’t want you to—”

  “You don’t want me to what?” Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. “It’s already done, kitten. Now we’ll just have to wait and see how your little potion works.”