The Curse of Tenth Grave

by Darynda Jones

  “We have a banker in Switzerland?” I leaned back and stared at him. “Dude, who are you? Who has that kind of money?”

  “You do,” he said, pulling me back down and into his arms.

  20

  Money may not be able to buy happiness,

  but it’s more comfortable to cry in a Mercedes than on a bicycle.

  —MEME

  I dwelled on the money thing, mentally making a list of all the boots I was going to buy. But I’d stop there. Just because one’s husband was loaded was no reason to spend it all on boots. I’d just spend a very small percentage on boots. Each week.

  But reality came creeping back in. He was right. What if something happened to him, heaven forbid, and I had to go on the run with Beep? I really needed to get my powers under control. Starting with …

  “There actually is something else I need to know. For me and for Beep.”

  “Name it.”

  “I need to know how to dematerialize.”

  He chuckled. “You already know how to do that.”

  “Yeah, but not on purpose. I only do it when I have a meltdown or I’m in danger. You can do it on purpose. How?”

  He took my hand in his. Laced our fingers together. “If you can’t do it, there’s something stopping you.”

  “Like what?”

  “What stops us in almost everything?”

  I shrugged.

  “What is the universal reason for almost every human action?”

  “Ah, right,” I said, when it hit me. “Fear.”

  “Exactly. So, what are you afraid of?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing.”

  “Then do it.” He watched our hands. “Slip away from me.”

  “If I could do it, Obi-Wan, I wouldn’t be asking for your help.”

  “Then you’re afraid.” He took my chin and turned my face to his. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe—” I shook my head. “No, that’s stupid.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Maybe shifting onto the next plane entirely? The last time I did it, when I was running away from you and Michael in New York?”

  He nodded, his expression suddenly severe.

  “It burned my skin. It was so hot, like acid. And I ended up miles away in a matter of seconds. I’m afraid … I’m afraid I’ll melt.”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “The supernatural plane didn’t burn you.”

  “Damn sure did,” I argued, remembering it so vividly. “It peeled the skin right off my bones.”

  “But when you materialized, were you harmed?”

  “No. It was so strange.”

  “Again, it didn’t burn you. But it is hot. And cold. The rules of this plane don’t apply, like a human in space who is exposed to the solar winds. Except, we are no longer human, and it’s still our plane, and we can navigate it at will.”

  “Then what happened, because my skin was being burned away like someone had taken a blowtorch to me.”

  “That wasn’t your body reacting to the heat and cold from the other dimension. You did that yourself. It was a physiological response to what your mind perceived as reality. In that state, not much can harm you.”

  “Okay, then, speaking of space, what if I accidentally materialize there? I’ll just be floating in the vacuum of space. Body swelling. Blood boiling. Skin turning an unappealing shade of blue and freezing. Then, knowing me, I’d explode. Even if I managed to make it back to the planet’s surface, I would’ve been exposed to all those subatomic particles. You don’t come back from that.”

  “Dutch,” he said, talking me off a ledge, “you control where and when you go. And how fast. You can even, to some degree, control the time there. Hell, since you’re a god, you could probably, I don’t know, navigate time.” His mind was suddenly racing. “There’s just no way to know what you’re capable of until you do it.”

  “Okay, but maybe we should start small.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. You’re right. Okay, concentrate.” He held up our hands again. “Shift as far onto the other plane as you can.”

  I dropped my hand. “You don’t like it when I shift.”

  He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue.

  “It’s like you can’t look at me when I shift. Like I’m monstrous.”

  “What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “You are still you when you shift, Dutch.”

  “Then why do I repulse you when I do?”

  He focused on the ceiling. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “Seriously? You went there?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Reyes, what? Why don’t you like it when I shift, even just a little, to see onto the other plane?”

  He turned away from me and practically whispered what came next. “When you shift, you see the real me. The dark side. It’s disturbing to know you can see that part of me.”

  “Reyes, it’s fascinating.” I turned his face back to mine. “I’m amazed. It’s like you’re covered in a cloak of black mist. It cascades over your shoulders and down your back. I want a cloak of black mist. How cool would that be?”

  He deadpanned me.

  “Wait, if I’m still me and not some monster, how do you know when I shift? You know instantly.”

  “Your eyes. When you shift, your gold eyes almost glow. They sparkle like glitter when you see into the other realm. Talk about fascinating.”

  “So, it’s a good thing?”

  “That part of it is, yes.”

  “Because sometimes the way you react … you’re positive I don’t look like a monster? Like, maybe, a Chucky doll?”

  “A Chucky doll?” he asked, baffled.

  “Yes. I always had a fear growing up that I looked a little like Chucky. Something about the jawline. And you are, too, by the way. A very good thing. Okay, I think I’m ready.”

  He repeated the instructions, telling me to shift as far as I could. I did, and I watched as the scene before me turned from the soothing neutral colors of our apartment to the raging colors of the otherworld. The storms swirled around us. Lightning struck close by, and I jumped.

  But Reyes wasn’t watching the intangible world. He was staring at me and continued to do so a long moment, gazing into my eyes as I took him in. His smooth skin. His dark lashes. The otherworld intensified everything about him.

  “Now, imagine you’re floating away one molecule at a time.”

  I tore my gaze off him and focused on my fingers.

  “Start at the tips.” He brushed his thumb over my palm. It caused a quake deep in my belly, like they were connected by a string. “Let the molecules go.”

  He opened my hand, leaned forward, and blew softly on my fingers. His warm breath penetrated my skin and whispered through it.

  “Let the molecules go,” he repeated, and slowly, atom by atom, my body began to dematerialize. It started with my fingertips. He blew again, and they flew into a gold vapor around me until Reyes’s hand slipped through mine completely.

  Astonished and terrified—mostly terrified—I snapped back to the tangible world, the weight of my body taking shape again.

  “That was amazing,” I said. I glanced back at him, and his brows were drawn into a severe line. “What?”

  He blinked back to me. “Nothing. Sorry.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. We said no more secrets. What’s wrong? What did I do?”

  “You’re right. It’s just … your color.”

  “Now you’re racist?” I teased.

  “No. It’s just—”

  “Is there something wrong with it?” I asked, alarmed.

  “No, not at all. I’ve just never seen it before. Anyway, you did it. And you can do more, as your recent trips would suggest.”

  “Reyes, how do you not just fly around all the time, checking shit out?”

  He laid his head against the headboard and laughed. “I do sometimes, but my life is on this plane.” He brushed his fingertips over my pal
m again, studying me. “I love every inch of you.”

  My heart melted, and I hoped it hadn’t dematerialized and rematerialized somewhere else. That couldn’t be good. I turned in to him. “I love all your inches, too.”

  He bent to kiss me but stopped halfway to my mouth. “I almost forgot.”

  Before I could ask what, he rose from the bed and walked out of the room, flashing me his ass. I fought the urge to sigh. And snap a few photos.

  I lay back and listened as he walked into the kitchen. If he pulled out the utensils again … But he came back with a bottle of champagne. The view this time was even more spectacular.

  “I almost forgot. It’s our anniversary.”

  “What?” I asked, bolting upright. “We’ve been married a year already?”

  “Not that anniversary.”

  “Oh, whew. So, on this day however many years ago we … kissed for the first time?”

  “Nope,” he said with a smirk, opening the bottle with a loud pop.

  “We … celebrated the first spine you’d severed in my defense?”

  “Nuh-uh.” The bed dipped with his weight as he eased back onto it, turned me over, and poured champagne in the small of my back.

  The icy liquid stole my breath and sent a shock wave rocketing through my system. I squealed and buried my face. “Cold. Really cold.”

  But his tongue was already on my skin, warming me as he drank the sparkling wine. Then he poured it between my shoulder blades, and it ran straight down to pool in the small of my back again. I shivered and then sighed as his mouth lapped it up.

  “The first time we drank champagne together?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, concentrating.

  “The first time we landed on the moon?”

  “Nuh-uh.” He nipped as he drank, causing spasms of pure delight.

  “Wait, is it my birthday?”

  “No.”

  “Is it your birthday?”

  “No,” he said with a soft chuckle.

  “Oh, thank God. Can I have a drink?”

  “I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night.”

  I turned over, but he only continued the assault there. Pouring. Kissing. Lapping. Nipping. I grabbed a handful of hair when he dipped between my legs.

  “The first time we had oral sex?” I guessed.

  He shook his head as his tongue feathered across my clitoris. I sucked air in through my teeth as he deftly brought me to the brink of orgasm and then stopped. When he rose up, I whimpered in protest. He ignored me and took a drink from the bottle but didn’t swallow. Then he started at my mouth, filling it with the bubbly wine, dripping it over my lips and down my neck. He took another mouthful and suckled a breast, the cold liquid hardening my nipples on contact. Then he gave the same rapt attention to its twin.

  I squirmed under his ministrations. His mouth was blisteringly hot compared to the chilled champagne, and the contrast was almost painful. I gasped with each kiss. Clenched with each suckle.

  He bathed my entire body. My stomach. My hips. My legs. My ankles. My insteps, which caused way more pleasure than I could’ve imagined. Then he made his way back up to the apex between my lower extremities.

  His dark hair fell over his forehead and became entangled with his lashes. His sculpted jaw worked with each kiss. His full mouth firm but smooth. I could’ve watched him forever, he was so beautiful. So darkly handsome. And so clueless about it all, which made him all the sexier.

  Then he dipped south with a mouthful of the good stuff, and I almost bucked off the mattress. He let the liquid slip from his lips and run between the sensitive folds of my cunt before he lapped it up in a hypnotic rhythm, coaxing the flames in rapturous delight. Tiny bites of pleasure quaked between my legs and pooled in my abdomen.

  I curled my toes in the air and my fists into the sheets as he dropped the bottle, spread my legs, and entered me in one seamless thrust.

  Wrapping me into his arms, he pulled me up until we were both upright. I thrust my fingers into his hair and started to rock, wanting that sweet sting to wash over me again, but he surprised me for a second time that night. He held me close, looked into my eyes, and let the darkness envelop him.

  He shifted, and I followed.

  Suddenly, we were making love amid a mosaic of colors and winds and lightning. My hair whipped around us as the heat from the otherworld scalded the skin along my spine. Then I realized it wasn’t the wind, but Reyes. His heat had multiplied. His hands burning and scorching and causing the most delicious spasms to rocket through me.

  He gripped my shoulders and pulled me harder onto his cock. I cried out but could barely be heard over the storms raging around us. Still, I wanted more. So very much more. I rose onto my toes and began riding him. He cupped my ass and helped me, lifting me off him to the very tip and then plunging me back down.

  Arousal flared to life, hot and thick and full of need. Distant, yet rocketing closer. He drove it forward, the sting of orgasm, with each thrust of his hips. The length of his cock massaged me from the inside, milked me until the sensation grew to nuclear levels.

  I clutched at his shoulders and cradled his neck as he took me into a vise grip and pumped into me.

  “Rey’aziel,” I whispered, and he growled and ground into me harder.

  Until there was no more resistance. Until it surfaced and burst and spilled into every molecule in my body, flooding me with a sensual pleasure like nothing else on this plane or the next.

  Reyes tensed as he came, too. Growled and shuddered as he held on to me for dear life. Pushing out the last remnants of desire. And then we were back in bed. Panting, we collapsed onto the mattress.

  After a long moment to collect myself, I looked over at him. “So, what anniversary was it?”

  He sobered and seemed to withdraw inside himself. He threw an arm over his eyes and then, almost inaudibly, said, “The night you saved me.”

  I stilled. Studied his profile. Basked in the beauty of it. “I wasn’t aware that I had.”

  A sad smile slid across his face. “Now you know.”

  “And what night was that?”

  His jaw muscle jumped in reflex. “You have to ask?”

  I didn’t. I really didn’t. Only one night would bring him such sadness. Such regret. The night I lobbed a brick through a plate glass window to stop a man from beating a teenaged boy.

  “Well, good,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t want to talk about it at length. Surprised he would even bring it up. “I was worried it was the night I lost my virginity.”

  “January twenty-seventh. You were fifteen.”

  I bolted upright. “What? How could you possibly know when I lost my virginity?”

  When I pinched him, he laughed soflty and pretended to be in pain. We both knew better.

  “I felt it,” he said at last. “I felt something wrong, so I went to you. I’d only just realized you were real. And I thought you were in trouble.”

  “Trouble?” I asked, thinking back. Freddie hadn’t forced himself on me in the least. If it was anyone’s idea, it’d been mine. But still, truth be told … “Yeah, I think Freddie had a lot more fun that night than I did.”

  He snorted. “I can guarantee you he did.”

  “I can’t believe—you’re a Peeping Tom.”

  “Hey,” he said, sliding out of the melancholy, “you practically summoned me to your side. I was there in an observatory capacity only. You know, should you have needed me. Or wanted a threesome.”

  I lay beside him. “I didn’t know you and the Big Bad were one and the same back then. I fell in love with you that night. The first night I saw you.”

  “So did I,” he said, his face so impossibly handsome, his tone so impossibly sincere.

  “I mean it, Reyes. I did.”

  “As did I.”

  I scoffed softly. “You didn’t seem very in love.” It had been such a horrible night when I threw a brick through Earl Walker’s kitchen window to stop him from be
ating Reyes. A beautiful teenaged boy with shimmering brown eyes and thick, dark hair. It still broke my heart to think about it.

  Reyes stiffened. “You’re not feeling sorry for me, are you?”

  “I’m sorry for what you went through.”

  “Water under the bridge.”

  “Reyes,” I said, raising a hand to his cheek, “no matter what happens, I love you.”

  His brows knitted for just a moment before he answered. “I love you more.”

  “Nope. Wanna wrestle for it?”

  “For?”

  “The championship. Who loves who more?”

  He glanced up as though in thought, then whispered so quietly I barely heard him, “You are so going down.”

  And before I knew it, I was pinned to the bed. For about the tenth time that evening.

  “You cheated,” I accused as he held me down.

  “Son of Satan,” he said by way of explanation.

  He had a point.

  * * *

  Reyes and I were still talking and laughing the next morning when we heard Cookie rush into the apartment. Fortunately, I’d already made coffee, so she stopped for a cup while I hurried to the bathroom for my robe.

  “I’m going to hit the shower,” Reyes said as I walked out. He stepped in front of me, his sleek body shimmering in the low morning light. “Hopefully, your aunt will visit. Surely one Davidson is as good as the other.”

  I gasped and wrapped my hands around his hips. Caressed his ass. Marveled that it was mine.

  “Does it bother you that I’m still going by Davidson? I mean, after we got married, there was just no time before we had to rush to the convent, to holy ground. And then we were stuck there for eight months, and I never worried about it. Then with Beep and the amnesia.”

  “You’ve been a little busy,” he said, a playful grin tilting the corners of his mouth. “But, no, it’s doesn’t bother me. I think it’s for the best for now.”

  “Why?”

  “If we keep everything in your name, it’ll be easier should anything happen to me.”

  I stepped back. “Reyes, you keep saying that. What the hell? Is there something I need to know?”

  “No.” He reached out, grabbed the lapel of my robe, and pulled me closer. “It’s just, you’re a god, Dutch. You will outlive me. My physical body, anyway.”