by Tara Fuller
He looked away, a pained expression on his face. “How do you know I was in a plane crash?”
“I researched your name on the Internet.”
“Why?” He still wouldn’t look at me. I wanted to make him. It felt necessary to life that he look at me at that moment.
“Because I care,” I said. “And because I feel like I should know these things, considering what you are to me.”
“And what am I to you?” Finn asked just as the lights gave a final flicker and went out. The candle glow made him look ethereal in the dark, his skin like caramel, his eyes the deepest shade of jungle green.
“I…I feel something when I’m with you that I’ve never felt before,” I whispered as if anyone else were there to hear. “Like we’re two halves of a whole.”
“You feel that way even after everything I did?”
“Yes. Don’t you feel it?”
He finally rested the back of his head against the headboard and stared at the ceiling like he was looking into a nightmare. “I was a fighter pilot in World War II. My plane was shot down at the Battle of Midway. I was only eighteen. I didn’t even finish high school,” he said in a flat voice. I had a feeling it was the first time he’d ever said it aloud since his death. “My mom begged me not to go, but I went anyway. At the time, it seemed right. I remember thinking I’d come home and show them all when I was a war hero.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “I did come home a war hero. Or at least the letter and medal that represented me did, all wrapped up in a pine box. I really showed them, huh?”
“I’m sorry.” It sounded so inadequate but it’s all I could think of to say.
“It’s okay. Ancient history, right?”
“And they made you a reaper right away?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hate it?”
“Not always,” he said. “Not until I had to take you.”
I shifted so that I was close enough to feel the warm energy coming off of him. “Tell me what happened.”
“You were with a boy. His truck went over a guardrail into a river.” Finn dropped his head and stared at his clenched fists in his lap. “I’d never doubted what I had to do. Never gave it a second thought. But after seeing you lying there in the snow, knowing you’d dragged yourself out of that river and died alone…for the first time in over forty years, I hated what I had to do. I hated myself.”
He stopped to rub his hands over his face again. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say to this boy who had seen me die. This boy who was doing everything in his power to make sure it didn’t happen again.
“When I came back the next day, you were at the gates, waiting,” he went on. “I thought for sure you’d hate me. Most of them did. Not at first, but after they realized how trapped they really were, what kind of fate waited for them, they always hated me.”
“But I didn’t.” Hesitantly, I met Finn’s intense gaze. “I didn’t hate you, did I?”
“No.” He shook his head. “No…you loved me, I think.”
I nodded and forced myself to look away. I already knew that part. I knew because it was still inside me, filling up my heart, making it feel like it was ready to explode being this close to him.
“Anything else?” His voice sounded gruff.
“Why me?” I finally decided to ask. “What made me different?”
“Before you, there was only dark.” He stopped, but his voice was still unsteady when he started again. “You lit up my whole world, like the sun bursting through the clouds on a stormy day. You made me remember what it was like to feel alive. You made me believe I was something more than death. You made me believe in something that I didn’t think existed anymore.”
My heart pounded in my chest, a steady beat that thudded harder with each passing second that he wasn’t touching me. I’d never wanted anyone to touch me as badly as I wanted Finn to in that moment. “Could you touch me right now if you wanted to?” I asked in a shaky voice.
He raked his hands through his hair and tugged. “Don’t ask me to do that. Not now. I’m too messed up to think straight and there are rules…”
He sounded torn, but for once, I didn’t want to think about what was right—I wanted him. Whatever that meant. There were too many memories in my mind. I didn’t want memories. I wanted the real thing. Here. Now. Finn jumped off the bed and started to pace, his jaw clenched in restraint, the muscles in his forearms flexing. I hauled myself up behind him, heart in my throat, but pain throbbed through the stitches in my neck and leg. I gave up and leaned against the bed.
“Don’t leave. I won’t ask again. I pro—” I stopped when I heard it. Static electricity seemed to crackle in the air between us, then the floorboards under Finn’s shoes groaned with his weight. He took a deep, shaky breath, and his gaze…
His gaze looked reckless. And then-He kissed me.
I froze as his warm, solid lips pressed against mine. This…this couldn’t be happening. Finn was kissing me, really kissing me. My lips parted in surprise, my neck stinging, but the pain was worth it.
He moaned against my mouth, and the sound ran through my body like fire in gasoline. One of his hands slid down my jaw, cradling my face to deepen the kiss. The other hand brushed down my ribs to touch the bare strip of skin where my shirt rode up. My arms wound around his back to close any space left between us.
His weight made me stumble against the bed and I winced, pain shooting up my leg as though I’d been stabbed all over again. Finn jerked away, but his hands held me in place. “Oh God…did I hurt—” I pulled him back to me and sealed our lips, trapping the rest of his words inside. It did hurt.
Everything did, but I didn’t care. Finn’s lips worked against mine and he shuddered, his hands careful of all the places that hurt.
“God,” he groaned resting his forehead against mine, shaking. “I want to feel this, Emma. I want to feel you, and I can’t.”
I frowned, but he kissed me again as if he could will himself to be alive and held my head in place, giving my neck the support it needed. I wanted him to be able to feel me, too. Wanted him to feel the fire in his veins like I did, and didn’t understand why he couldn’t.
All at once, there wasn’t room for any of the anger or the hurt over the lies. There was only room for Finn. The memories of this might have been good, but they were nothing compared to the real thing. His hands settled on my hips, gripping my flesh like he wanted more of me than he could get.
“Finn,” I whispered against his kiss, needing so much. Too much. I never wanted this to end. My hands slid around to his back, and his body slowly softened. Melted into a cool vapor against my skin.
A burst of energy ripped us apart and he scattered into a thousand particles before he managed to pull himself back together. Once he was solid again he reached for me, but his hand turned to vapor against my skin.
“Damn it,” he said, dropping his hand. “I can’t…I can’t keep it together.”
Pain seared my neck and my need for Finn took my breath away. I reached for his shimmering form, needing to feel him again, but all that was left was a translucent version of the boy I loved. I clutched my chest where it hurt, and a choked sob ripped its way out of my throat.
“Emma, stop…don’t cry,” he pleaded. His gentle fingers, their breathy warmth touching my face, only made it worse.
“It’s not enough,” I cried, unable to stop myself. “This will never be enough.”
It hurt, loving him like this. It hurt knowing everything about our past, but knowing we didn’t have a future. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find it all a dream, because this kind of pain was going to kill me long before Maeve ever could. I wanted so many things I couldn’t have. I wanted him to be alive.
His eyes raked over me, a desperation in them that I’d never seen before. “Did you say Cash was drinking tonight?”
I nodded. Finn hopped up and went to the window. “If Cash comes to your window, let him in.”
&n
bsp; I could barely see the fading shimmer of his outline in the moonlight. “What are you going to do?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Just let him in.” With that he dissolved through the wall and into the darkness, leaving me aching and alone.
Chapter 31
Finn I didn’t think. I just moved. Kept moving until I was sinking into a bleary-minded Cash, who was sitting on his sofa strumming a soft tune on his guitar. If I thought about it, I’d remember what I said to Scout that night on the mountain, and what a disgusting excuse for a person I’d become the second I decided to do this. I told myself I didn’t have time to think about it, but as the dizziness swept through me from the feel of new blood rushing through my veins, not thinking was impossible.
Seeing Emma crumble, hearing her cry that what we had wasn’t enough, shattered what was left of my already shattered soul. I thought about the look in her eyes, the eagerness of her kisses, the way her hands seemed desperate to touch every part of me… I hadn’t been able to feel any of it. Not the heat of her skin against mine or the taste of her kiss. Going corporeal, risking everything to be with her—it was nowhere near enough to fill the gaping hole in my chest that cracked open when I stumbled into her room tonight. I hoped I had enough time to at least get Cash over there before Balthazar sent Easton to drag me to Hell. Even if the idea of me in her best friend’s body freaked her out, I didn’t want to leave her alone.
And I was going to Hell, all right. At least Easton and Anaya would watch over Emma after this.
Anaya would for sure. Easton would probably be too pissed off at first, but Anaya would never let an innocent like Emma die. Especially not knowing what she meant to me.
I set the guitar on the floor and stood up, stumbling into the table in front of me as I worked out how to use my new legs. I felt like I was made of rubber, bending and wobbly in all the places that should have been supporting my weight. Disoriented, I shook my head. Things began to focus but when I spotted the empty beer cans on the coffee table I figured out the root cause of most of my problem.
“Where are you going? It’s freaking cold out there,” a blond kid slurred from a recliner in the corner of the room. I paused at the door and looked back at him, surprised for some reason that he could actually see me.
“I’m going to Emma’s.” My mouth snapped shut involuntarily when I realized it was the sound of Cash’s voice instead of mine. Damn it, this was weird. And if I thought about it much more, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.
“Dude! What’s up with your eyes?” The kid sat up and squinted at me. “They’re green. Like, crazy green, man.”
Not wanting to open that can of worms, I stumbled outside. It was eerily quiet this time of night. No crickets, no hiss of tires gliding along the icy streets. Just the sound of Cash’s boots crunching through the freshly packed snow that spanned from his house to Emma’s. When I rounded the corner, I could see her. Her window was open and her face was there, scanning the darkness for me.
I stopped just short of the light spilling out onto the snow and watched her. Her face was flushed, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. Her pale blond hair looked almost white in the moonlight, and her blue eyes were luminescent enough to cut through the night and right through to my core. I filled my lungs with icy air and took a step forward into the light. “Can I come in?” I asked in an unfamiliar voice.
She nodded and moved aside, watching me warily as I climbed clumsily though the window, then shoved it closed.
“Cash?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk. I couldn’t stand hearing my words come out cloaked in his voice.
Emma looked into my eyes and eased back onto her bed, her eyes wide with shock. “Finn?”
I nodded and took a step forward.
“Oh my God…Finn, what did you do? Is Cash…is he…?”
I knelt down in front of her. “He’ll be fine.” I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be very soon. Balthazar had to know by now. I had maybe a minute or two before they dragged me through Hell’s gates.
“Why?” Her voice broke and a tear rolled down her pale cheek before landing on her collarbone.
“I want to be able to feel you like you feel me. To be with you without any limits, even if it’s only once,” I whispered. My fingers twitched, aching to touch her.
I couldn’t make myself finish. Instead, I leaned up until I was close enough to feel her breath fanning across my lips. Connection sparked between us, reeling me closer.
“But you’re not you,” she whispered.
“Look into my eyes, Emma.” I placed my palms on either side of her face, and the shock of her skin on mine, the heat…I shut my eyes and a breath shuddered out of me. I forced my eyes open, needing her to understand before they came for me. “It’s me. It’s Finn.”
She nodded. Her blue eyes fixed on mine. “You’re Finn.”
“Please say this is okay,” I said, the urgency drowning me.
She nodded and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I didn’t have time to. I kissed her, and the paper-thin space between our lips was crushed out of existence. Her mouth immediately opened, letting me in, and I slid my hands up her thighs to the edge of her cotton shorts. She tasted like chocolate and peppermint and life. Her smooth skin felt like silk. I needed more of her. All of her. I could barely breathe through the amount of want building up inside me. I didn’t want to waste time breathing.
My heart pounded so loudly I thought for sure she could hear it. It was a strange sensation after not having a heartbeat for seventy years. I leaned into her and my hip bumped her injured leg. Emma gasped against my lips.
“Damn it. Sorry.” Gently, I shifted her back farther on the bed. I wanted this, but I knew how much pain she had to be in. My palms pressed into the mattress on either side of her head as I leaned over her and touched my bottom lip to hers. I wanted to kiss her again, but didn’t know how to do it without losing control.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and her words left the thin wall of self-control I had built up crumbling.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Not more than I already would be. I kissed her throat, tasting the spot just behind her jaw. Emma made a frustrated sound, pulling my face up, and our lips collided with so much force I groaned.
Emma whimpered and I swallowed the sound as her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging at the long spikes. Unfamiliar tingles danced across my scalp. I felt dizzy. I felt drunk. Completely intoxicated from all things Emma—her smell, the feel of her skin, her taste. It was driving me mindlessly over the edge.
She scooted back onto her bed, grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt to take me with her. I followed. I would have followed her into the fiery depths of Hell if she’d asked me to in that moment. Twenty-seven years of wanting her spilled into me, refusing to be satisfied. A desperate hunger twisted my stomach into anxious knots.
Her fingers tugged at the hem of my T-shirt and I broke away to help her pull it over my head before diving back in. Little whimpers and moans escaped her until I couldn’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain. But she wouldn’t let me stop. I didn’t want to stop. An involuntary moan rumbled somewhere deep in my chest. She felt so warm beneath me, so alive. God, I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
“You taste so good,” I whispered against her moving lips. “You taste like peppermint. I almost forgot what that tasted like.” More importantly, she tasted like home. My hands inched up her tank top and touched her bare stomach, something I’d dreamed about doing for months. Last summer when she’d laid out, trying to tan her pale skin, all I’d wanted to do was touch her stomach. And now that I could, it was so damn worth it. I’d go to Hell a thousand times over to have my hands were they were now.
“What in the hell are you doing?”
Every muscle in my body tensed at the sound of Easton’s voice. I rolled away from Emma. He stood at the end of the b
ed, his eyes dark, angry. The blade in his hand flashed.
“Finn…what’s wrong?” Emma touched my hand.
I laced my fingers through hers and squeezed. Not yet. God…I’m not ready yet. “I love y—” I didn’t get the words out. Not before Easton’s scythe pierced Cash’s chest and jerked me out in one swift tug. Pain sliced through me as I separated from blood and skin and bone, and a choking sound escaped my throat. He grabbed my arm, singeing my skin. A familiar black cavern of screams opened at our feet. I couldn’t look at him. My gaze was riveted on the porthole to Hell.
“I hope it was worth it,” Easton said.
I glanced over my shoulder at Emma, shaking Cash’s shoulders, trying to rouse his unconscious body. I’d never hold her again. Would never taste her, talk to her, or hear her laugh. There wasn’t going to be any “get out of jail free” card for me. Not this time. It was over.
I didn’t know what I could say to change anything, so I just said, “It was.”
Chapter 32
Finn Everyone’s version of Hell is different. Or so Easton tells me. Some burn in fire. Some die in ice.
Most drown in their nightmares, or choke on twisted fears and mangled memories. Only one thing is certain here—whatever your poison, it’s sure to last an eternity.
Easton tugged me down the ash path, through the blazing gates, and to the smaller iron gate where we’d deposited the two souls. He rapped his scythe on the bars and I knew I should have been afraid, but instead, I thought of Emma. I wanted to remember her warmth. I wanted to remember her breath in my mouth and my hands in her hair. I wanted to remember her like the dream she was before they turned her into a nightmare.
The gates opened. “Let’s go.”
It was dark here, and the heat strangled me. In the distance, screams morphed together into one long, continuous moan that felt infectious. Like the sound was reaching down into my belly trying to pull my scream up to join them. I flinched when the buzzing sound of a chainsaw echoed down the corridor. Something wet splashed under my shoes, but it felt too thick to be water. Smelled too metallic to be anything other than blood.