We move away from each other and climb in the car. He starts up the engine and places the flashlight back in the glove box.
I watch him with a guarded expression. “Asher, why did you bring me here?”
He places an arm on the back of the head rest behind me. “Because I wanted to show you that people tend to fear the different, even when the different is good.”
“Like Angels,” I make sure.
He nods expectantly. “Like Angels, and like people who are out of the ordinary.”
“But what does this have to do with Garrick and the Anamotti? Or can you not tell me that yet?”
“Do you want me to tell you now?” He waits patiently for my answer.
I hesitate briefly, nervous what the answer could be. “Umm… yeah?”
“The word ‘Anamotti’ means death. And they believe that angels exist,” he says. “And they want to destroy them.”
Angels? “Are you part of this group?” I tread with caution.
He shakes his head. “I’m not, but I know people who are.”
I take in the dark alteration of the night. “What does that have to do with me?”
He tips my chin up and claims my gaze, looking past my eyes and into my soul. “I can tell you, but I want you to make sure you’re ready for that answer, because it’s… it might be hard for you to take in, especially when you’ve got so much stress in your life already. I want you to really make sure, whether you believe me or not, that you can handle whatever it is I tell you.”
“How do you know about my stress?” I say, unable to look away from him.
“Because of the sadness you always carry.” He brushes the tip of his fingers along the corner of my eye. “It’s in here, all the time. So please, if you’re not ready, it can wait.”
It’s frightening how much he sees me.
He gives me a moment to contemplate. My mind reflects back to Garrick and his multiple death omens. To Raven. And Ian. My alcoholic, manic-depressant mother. My dad’s disappearance. Angels and secret societies? There is so much going on in my life and for once I have an escape—Asher. Tonight has been one of the best nights of my life and I want to hold onto the feeling of bliss for as long as I can. Whatever he’s about to say will change it. Perhaps even destroy it—I can sense it through the tone in his voice, the way he moves, and the way his eyes watch me.
“Can you take me home?” I ask, fearing having to deal with what’s before me, worrying that I’ll crack and end up insane. “It’s getting late.”
He nods with understanding in his eyes and pulls his hand away from the head rest. “Whatever you want, Ember. And I mean that. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
I wonder if he really means it.
***
All the interior lights in my house are off. Either the power is still out, my mom and Ian are in bed, or no one’s home.
“Is anyone here?” Asher stares at the house. “It doesn’t look like anyone is.”
“Well, it is,” I glance at my watch and my eyes spring wide. “One in the morning. Jesus, how’d it get to be that late?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” he teases with a soft laugh.
The darker side of tonight has dissolved. The ride home was filled with light conversation about music, school, art, writing. And I refuse to think about Angels, the Grim Reaper, and the Anamotti.
“Tonight was fun though.” I push the car door open. “And I needed some fun.”
He captures the hem of my tank top and his knuckles brush the side of my stomach. He draws me back into the car. “Then why does it have to end?”
Is he asking what I think he is? My eyes travel to Raven’s second-floor bedroom window. The light is on and I can almost hear her voice: Do it, do it, do it!
“You want to come in?” I involuntarily glance at his lustrous lips.
He nods slowly, his compelling gaze penetrating me. “At least until someone comes home—you shouldn’t be here alone.”
I look back at my house. “Let me just run in and check first. My brother might be here.”
He smiles and releases me. I run inside and flick on the light. “Well, the power’s back on.” I check in the living room, half expecting to find the Grim Reaper waiting for me. But it’s empty and the house is quiet. So is my mom’s bedroom, Ian’s room, his studio. I trot back downstairs and wave Asher inside.
He climbs out of the car and strolls up the sidewalk. He watches me with every step and I realize how happy I am he’s staying. If he wasn’t, I’d probably wake up in a few hours, dripping with the sweat of death. I’d grab my notebook and go to the cemetery, where I’d jot notes about loneliness and pain. Asher has the ability to distract me from death.
I shut the door behind him and he scales up my house. There are photos of me as a baby hanging on the foyer wall. Some I’m with Raven, some I’m with Ian. There are even a few I’m with my mom and dad, back when life was all rainbows and sunshine, or at least when I believed it was. But life was just waiting for me to pass it.
“You look like your dad.” He squints at a photo of me as a two-year-old sitting on my dad’s lap. My mom is leaning over his shoulder whispering something in his ear. Ian is in the back, swinging plastic nunchucks at an inflatable Santa Claus. There is a Christmas tree in the background, flashing with red twinkling lights. The picture’s candid, and we look happy.
I want the moment back.
I head for the stairs and Asher follows. I’m aware of everything as we ascend the staircase; the movement of his body, the slightest elevation in temperature, the rhythm of his heart.
I open my bedroom door and he glances at the drawings on the wall, the poems, the pictures of the dead poets. He gives a lengthy gaze at the Reaper and then at the angel on the wall across from it, before he focuses on a picture of Edgar Allan Poe tacked to the closet doorframe.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a crush on him,” he says with a drop of amusement. “But then again, I really don’t know you.” He faces me with a smile tickling his lips. “So is this my competition?”
“I’m not in love with him,” I reply, picking up the raven feather off my dresser. Weird. I thought I put this away. “I’m in love with his work.”
“I remember from the party. You practically fell into my arms when I quoted the only line I know of his poetry.” He teases me with a smug smile.
I narrow my eyes and try not to smile. “So you were playing me.”
He shrugs, still grinning, and takes the feather from my hands. He spins it in-between his fingers and his eyebrows furrow as he stares at the feather. “Is this a raven’s feather?”
“Yeah, why?”
He shakes his head and hands the feather back to me. “Where’d you get it?”
“From the ceme—the park.” I set the feather on my dresser, wondering what an angel feather would look like. “They’re a pretty common bird.”
The seriousness in his face fades into mischievousness. “I was just wondering how hard you went looking for it—how deep your obsession is with Edgar Allan Poe.”
“Ha, ha,” I say sarcastically, giving him a playful shove. He traps my hand against his chest and the mood takes an impulsive shift. “Am I allowed to kiss you in here?”
“No one’s home,” I say. “You can do whatever you want.”
“Can I?” He steers me to him. Our lips and bodies collide and liquefy with lust.
We fall onto my bed with our bodies entangled. My heart races with rapture and my skin flames with a burning need. He rolls us over, so he’s on top of me, and his tongue ring inspects every single inch inside my mouth. My legs snake around his waist and he lets out a low growl as he sucks on my bottom lip. He traces kisses down my neck and my breath hitches. I slant my head back as his lips trail lower and lower. But my mind panics with self-doubting thoughts, not about Asher, but about myself, and I pull back.
He doesn’t look mad or angry. In fact, he looks grate
ful. “Why don’t we lie down?” He gently kisses my cheek and I shiver. “And I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
“Let me go change into my pajamas first,” I say, only to allow myself time to cool down.
He rolls off me and I climb off the bed, ignoring the thunder of my heart. I grab some pajamas out of the dresser and duck into the closet.
“You know that curtain is pretty thin,” he says, humor hinting his tone. My iPod flips on and the sound of “Hands Down,” by Dashboard Confessional drums through the room. I quickly slip on a tank top and a pair of plaid shorts. I unclasp my studded bracelets and drop them in the corner of the closet floor, right by the insane drawing of X’s. I barely remember drawing it, like how I barely remember being rescued from drowning. Feathers all over his crime scene. I shut my eyes and try to summon more details. Dark water. My necklace floating away. The black mass—the Grim Reaper.
I open my eyes. Am I losing my mind just like my dad? Or is everything real, just confusing?
I return to the room in a miserable mood. Asher is lying on my bed reading a book with his boots kicked off and his jacket thrown on the floor. My smile breaks through, until I see what he’s reading.
“Wait a minute… is that…” I reach for the book, but he rolls to his side, laughing as he reads a line from Raven’s romance novel. “‘And then he takes his hand and slides it onto my—’”
I hop on him and steal the book away. “This is not mine. It’s Raven’s.” I chuck the book across the room and it lands in the garbage.
He laughs and situates his hands on my hips as I straddle him. “So you don’t want me to slide my hand on you—”
I conceal my hand over his mouth and shake my head. I wait until he stops laughing and then I remove it. He situates on the bed and then steers me down beside him. I rest my head on his chest.
“So won't you kill me, so I die happy,” Asher sings quietly along with the song in an angelic voice. “You should get some sleep.” He plays with my hair. “I’ll leave when you do. That way no one will walk in us.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I yawn. “No one ever checks in on me…” I lift my head up. “Won’t your mom worry about where you are? It’s late.”
He shakes his head. “She’s gone for the weekend, back to New York to close up one of her… accounts.”
I press my cheek against his chest and his heart skips against it. “Asher, why did you take off the other day? After you got Garrick away from me?”
“That’s another question you may really want to think about and make sure you want me to answer it.”
I deliberate. “I want to know.”
He lets out an uneven breath. “Because if I didn’t leave I would have chased Garrick down and killed him.”
Perhaps I should have got up and ran, but the silence of his body is my sanctuary. “Why would you have killed him?”
“For a few reasons,” he whispers. “One of them being because he tried to hurt you.” He pauses. “Does that scare you?”
“Do you think it scares me?”
“No.”
“Then you’re right.”
Stillness takes over, along with the sound of the music. Moments later, I drift off to one of the most peaceful nights of my existence.
Chapter 12
I open my eyes to the warmth of Asher’s arms wrapped around me. A rare smile graces my lips, and I’m glad he fell asleep and never left. The scent of freshly fallen rain and a bird’s melody flows through my open bedroom window. I sit up and spot a raven suspended on a tree branch. Its black eyes watch me and I stick my arm out the window, trying to coax it closer.
“Hello, little minion of death,” I whisper with my eyes narrowed. “Why won’t you leave me alone? Are you trying to tell me something about my death? Because I’m sorry to break it to you, but I already died and now it looks like there is no death in my future.”
That’s when I notice Cameron’s Jeep parked in front of my house.
I glance down at Asher sleeping in my bed and then back at the Jeep, remembering the date with him. Carefully, I slip out from under his arm and sneak into the hall. I soundlessly close my door and walk to the top of the stairs.
Cameron and Ian are chatting in the foyer. Ian is telling him about this slammin’ new art exhibit tonight in Jackson.
Cameron’s ash black eyes instantly find me and a smile curves at his lips. “Good morning, princess.”
Princess? I smooth my hair down and trot down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”
Cameron is dressed in black jeans, a grey Henley, and boots, with leather bands on his wrist. But with his blonde hair and tan skin, he looks more vintage than gothic. “I came to see you.”
The beanie on Ian’s head covers his eyebrows and his jeans are smudged with charcoal. He looks uncomfortable, standing next to Cameron, who’s about six inches taller than him. “Well, I’ll let you two chat or whatever.” He raises his eyebrows at me and something in his eyes flash. He doesn’t like Cameron. I find it odd because Ian usually is “all about the love.”
“If you need anything, just holler.” Ian heads upstairs and seconds later the door to his studio slams shut.
“I thought we weren’t going out until later,” I say quickly and run my fingers tensely through my hair. “And I was actually going to call you. Something came up and I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to the poetry slam tonight.”
“Are you blowing me off?” His tone is clipped.
“No.” I’m thrown off by his sullen attitude. “I just had something come up... My mom needs my help with something.”
“That’s funny, because your brother just told me your mom’s out of town.” He sounds irritated.
“Did he…” I search for another excuse.
“Does this have anything to do with the owner of the GTO in your driveway?” he asks bluntly.
“Um…” I don’t know what to say.
Thankfully, the front door swings open and Raven pops her head in. Her pink hair is fluffed up in the front and pulled up into a ponytail. Neon pink eyeliner frames her eyes and she’s wearing a black dress trimmed with pink leather.
“Hey, chica,” she chirps. “Thanks for letting Asher and I meet at your house. It totally sucks that my brother doesn’t approve of him.” She gives me a secret wink, then grabs my hand and says to Cameron, “Can you hold on, hun? I gotta borrow her for just a second.”
Cameron motions at the stairway and smiles. “By all means go ahead. I can wait.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Raven drags me up the stairs and stops once we’re in the hall out of Cameron’s sight. She slaps my arm. “You slut. Please tell me he’s still naked in your bed.”
“What are you talking about?” I play dumb.
She rolls her eyes. “The hot sexy guy who had his car parked in your driveway all night.”
“I didn’t sleep with him.” I lower my voice. “Well, not in the way you’re thinking. We just fell asleep in my bed.”
She eyes me like a cop trying to break down a criminal. “So nothing happened at all?”
“We kissed,” I say. “And that’s all.”
She frowns, disappointed. “Okay, well here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get Asher to agree to come with me and then Cameron won’t ever have to know about this.”
“But I don’t think I want to go out with Cameron,” I protest. “I really like Asher.”
“So,” she says baffled. “It’s not like you’re dating. You’ve been out with him once.”
“And he saved me from drowning in the lake.” I let it slip it out.
She slaps my arm again and I flinch from the spark of her death. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
I rub my arm and shrug. “You were talking about how much you wanted him and I don’t know…”
“You just kept your mouth shut, like you always do.” She takes me by the shoulders and looks me straight in the eyes, a
s if her next words are the most important thing I will ever hear. “Look, Em, I love you so much and that’s why I’m going to do you this favor. You’re going to go out on a date with Cameron.” I open my mouth to argue but she shushes me. “You owe it to yourself not to get serious with anyone yet. Serious relationships mean things I don’t think you’re ready for.”
The door of my bedroom opens up and Asher walks out, slipping on his jacket. He’s got bed-head, but it’s ridiculously sexy. “So that went a little differently than I planned. I don’t even remember falling asleep.” He shoves up the sleeves of his jacket, ignoring Raven. “So I want to take you somewhere today, if that’s okay.”
Ember (Death Collectors, Book 1) Page 14