by Brindi Quinn
An unannounced wind moves through the forest, pushing Pine’s . . . well, his pheromones at me, I’m guessing.
“You smell good,” I blurt.
Whoops. Shoot. Well, if there was any question of my gooberness, I think it’s pretty much set in stone now.
Pine grins. “Thank you.”
Quick! Recovery mode! “I-I mean that you smell familiar,” I stammer. “It reminds me of something, but I can’t figure out what. I guess, it kind of smells like home. Does that make any sense?”
A weird little pain pangs in my chest.
Pine’s eyes widen. “Home?” He begins to mutter to himself. “Marley Craw. Craw. You’re . . .”
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. The air falls silent. Beyond Pine’s face, I see the towering evergreens and small pieces of the sky.
“So.” Pine drops his waist to mine. “Should we have sex?”
The sound of someone choking on her own tongue resounds through the naturey atmosphere.
“Ack! Ack! Ack!”
Oh right, that’s my choking. That’s my tongue and it’s become lodged in my throat.
“You’re joking,” I manage through the coughs.
“Hardly.” One of the reaper’s hands finds the button of my jeans.
Pop!
He undoes it with a flick of his finger.
“Oh, okay, in that case– NO!” I sputter.
“Fine,” he says, removing his hand. He eyes my mouth impatiently. “Can we at least make out now?”
“Hellll no! Not after you led with THAT!”
My neck is hot. Hotter than hot. Burning in a furnace H-O-T.
My dad always wanted me to learn how to make fire in the woods. It seems like he’s on the verge of getting his wish.
Great, now I’m thinking of my dad . . . which also makes me a little sad and hollow-feeling for some reason.
You really know how to unsexify the mood, Marley Craw.
I push Pine off of me because I know if I don’t, I might really deflate like a balloon this time and go zipping off through the trees. Besides, it’s still up in the air whether or not I’m a slut, and I’m pretty sure letting Pine have his way with me now, after everything, would be the determining factor.
“Let’s get out of here,” I tell the dark-haired reaper. “I’ve had enough trees and nature and all that shiz for one day.”
“Tch.”
Begrudgingly, Pine slips up the hood of his sweatshirt.
Chapter 6: Waking the Dragon
The way up the mountain is as thrilling as the way down, only it’s much, much shorter. Pine wraps his arms around me, jumps into the air, and faster than a shot of scotch, the world whizzes by and we’re at the opening to the glass room. Once our feet hit the carpet, the hole in the glass closes on itself, reforming into place.
Inside, everything is how we left it. Even Minx is lying where he was, buried in cushions, with his arm over his head. Dang! Pine was right. Minx would have just kept sleeping all day if we hadn’t come back. I feel a little bad now that we didn’t come back sooner.
I start for the soothing reaper, but Pine grabs my wrist to hold me back. Actually, his hand fully wraps around my wrist. I’ve never really considered myself dainty before – more like awkward and average – but little actions like those from the reaper make me feel small and fragile.
“What is it?” I ask, eyes on my daintified wrist.
“Remember,” he says.
“Remember?” I repeat.
“Remember the feeling.” He nods to the glass. “Out there. And whatever you do, don’t start asking questions around HIM.”
Right. Because he’s dangerous or whatever.
“You got it, Captain.” I give Pine a playful salute.
But something unexpected comes out of it. A dumb look hits Pine’s face and stays there. “How did you know I’m a captain?” he says.
“Huh? You are?”
Concerned, Pine nods once slowly.
“Oh. It was just like a fun nickname, you know? I didn’t mean that you’re an actual captain. Wait, there are captain reapers?”
With his uncovered eye wide, Pine releases my wrist. “Unusual,” he mutters. He stays that way for a minute; then, he unzips his hoodie, throws it onto the coatrack, and situates himself against the wall in the corner of the room, taking up his old practice of staring out at the clouds.
“How did you get to be a captain?” I persist. “Is Minx a captain?”
“He isn’t,” Pine says. “And it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know.”
Fine, then I’ll find out from Minx. To tell the truth, I intend to find out a lot from Minx. I know I told Pine I wouldn’t, but there’s this very strong tick in the back of my skull, urging me to find out more about this situation I’ve found myself in. Being dead, getting reaped, nether-powers, the afterlife, the hierarchy of reapers, my judgment . . . it’s like a dull ache. Not that the tick’s causing me any real pain, but it’s there, obviously so, and the more Pine tells me not to give in, the more I want to.
I start again for the sleeping reaper.
“Marley.” Pine doesn’t look away from the window.
“Yeah?”
“Promise you’ll come back.”
Promise.
“Promise?”
“I wasn’t lying,” he says. “I want it bad. Even more now.” From where I stand, I see his jaw tighten. “Promise you’ll come back at least once.”
Geesh. Dramatic much? But I have to admit, there’s something sexy about the way he badly wants to win my soul. I have something he wants but can’t have. I wonder how far he’d go to get it . . .
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: No wonder I didn’t get into Heaven.
“I’m only going to the couch,” I answer. “You’ll be here the whole time.
Pine shakes his head. “Spend a little time with him. See how you like it. I’ll leave you two alone. It’s only fair after the dumbass let me have you first.”
I don’t really get it. Then again, I don’t really get any of this.
Tepidly, I walk to the oversized couch. I don’t know why, but I’m a little nervous about it. Like, I don’t know what’s going to happen when I wake him, but I feel like it’s a big deal for some reason, and also like something bad might come of it.
Is that what they mean by foreboding?
“Minx?” I say his name, but he must not hear it because there’s no light from his eyes. I get closer. His body’s stretched out like a cat, the bottom of his shirt pulled up a little at the waist.
ABS.
Yup, they’re still there.
Minx’s white hair falls over his face. His mouth is half open against one of the pillows. It’s as though he’s indulging in sleep, more than just sleeping. His head is tipped so that his neck is exposed. His stomach rises and falls with deep, sleepy breaths.
Cute.
Oh yeah, he’s definitely a cutie.
“Minx?” I say his name again, and this time I poke him in the arm.
No response.
“Mr. Reaper?”
Nothing.
“You’ve been sleeping for a long time . . . I think. I can’t really say for sure. Anyway, it would probably be a good idea for you to get up now. I mean, it’s the middle of the day and–”
Without a word of warning, Minx’s arm is around my waist. Quick as a whip, he tosses me onto the couch with him.
Umpbf!
“Marley Craw?” Sleepy words reach me.
“Jufft Mbfarley’s mbfine.” Thanks to Minx’s toss, my face is buried in a pillow. “Mforry to mbake you,” I add, muffled – then break out, gasping for air.
But the second I’m free of the pillows, I’m taken captive again. Minx grabs ahold of my shoulders and rolls me to my back; then pounces on top of me like a playful puppy.
My stomach sinks over the fact that I’m being straddled yet again by someone inhumanly attractive.
&nb
sp; Holiest of holy potato salads. Guess he’s the type who’s pretty boisterous after a nap.
“H-hey,” I stammer. “How’s it going?”
“You came back!” he cries. His eyes are wide and eager and . . . delighted.
Aww, man. Now I feel even worse for leaving him up here sleeping all day.
Ohmigosh. I just realized something.
Am I . . . a jerk?
Probably.
“You came back,” he says again, and his excitement falls into a mischievous smirk. “You didn’t forget about me.”
Forget about him? No, though I almost did. But telling him so would solidify my status as a jerk, so I say nothing.
He puts his nose to my neck and takes a deep smell.
Ah! Tickles!
Now, I’m a reasonable girl. Downright down-to-earth if you ask me. I know it isn’t normal behavior to let a grim reaper you barely know pounce on you as he pleases. I know that to take it without resisting makes me less than chaste. But I can’t help it.
You see, the couch is just too soft, too inviting, too melting.
And the reaper over me is just too appealing, too warming, too much.
I have no choice, really, but to surrender to his whims.
He buries his face in my hair at the nape of my neck and inhales again. My arms rest limply over my head as I wait for him to finish whatever it is he’s doing. He draws the tip of his nose along my collarbone and smells my throat. When he raises his face, the corner of his mouth is scowling.
“M-Minx?”
His eyes flare ruby red.
“You stink like that guy,” he says with disdain.
Rude!
I stretch my neck to see that Pine hasn’t moved from the window. In fact, he isn’t acknowledging us at all. He’s still as still can be like one of those human statues. You know, the ones that paint themselves gray or gold and fool unsuspecting tourists?
Minx shifts his head to block my view of Pine and as he does, his face softens into his go-to expression, the one of careful, sympathetic uncertainty. “I’ll fix it,” he says.
And before I can say anything in reply, he smothers me with a hug, cuddling my face to his chest and wrapping me in his fresh laundry scent.
It starts as soon as his arms are around me. That drifty, sleepy, satisfying, edge-of-dream feeling.
Minx pulls me into his world like a vortex.
His embrace is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever felt.
The next closest was the time I got to stay home from school for a whole month. I slept until noon every day, and for the final two hours of each afternoon, I’d just lie there, half asleep, staring at the sun coming through the blinds, and having weird half-dreams.
Now that I think about it, I can’t really remember why I stayed home for a month. I don’t remember how old I was then, either.
It’s weird, isn’t it?
“You shouldn’t think about that,” Minx’s voice drifts into my ear.
Okay. I’ll trust him because the memory feels like forbidden territory.
Vaguely, I feel Minx’s body pressed to mine. Vaguely, I feel his mouth on my neck. Is he . . . kissing me? Spirit me likes it. Spirit me puts my arms around his back and holds him in return.
Inside my head, there’s a voice.
“Cuddle me, Marley.”
“I am,” I mutter, sleepy.
“Harder.”
My hands grip the thin fabric of his t-shirt, feeling the muscle of his back beneath. The mouth kissing my neck moves to my ear. I feel the warmth of his breath there, and the light bite of his teeth.
“Minx,” I groan his name without thinking about it.
He nibbles my ear harder.
“Ow.”
“Punishment,” the voice in my head says. “For almost forgetting about me.”
He knows?!
“I’m totally, TOTALLY sorry,” I tell him and my voice is clearer than before. “I’m having a hard time remembering things lately. Side effect of being dead?”
The teeth on my earlobe let up.
“I forgive you.”
Minx’s mouth moves from my ear to my cheek. This time the kiss is clear.
“Cuddle me, Marley. Don’t stop.”
I fall under his trance again. I sink deeper into the cushions. My body is heavy, full of sand or some other gritty substance. And here I thought sprits were supposed to be light and buoyant and vapory. Then again, Casper never had a sexy reaper pressing against him, sinking his stomach like an anvil. At least, not that I know.
I draw my hands down the back of Minx’s shirt until I’m at the bottom where it wrinkles up, exposing his skin.
My fingers drift.
Minx snatches them.
Whoa. Abrupt.
But I soon find out he didn’t grab my fingers to stop them. He grabbed them to guide them. He takes my hand and slides it beneath his shirt before releasing it into the wild. Permission to wander. Am I the wandering sort, all of a sudden?
Turns out I am.
Shaking, my fingertips slide along his back, to his side and up his firm, warm stomach. Minx shifts his weight so that my waist is pinned under his. He finds my unwandering hand and moves it over my head, locking his fingers in mine, and daring me to fight free.
I don’t fight.
I like being held down.
. . . Does that make me a weirdo?
Minx uses his other hand to pull my shirt up halfway. He brushes his thumb across my belly button. For a split second I worry that my belly button might be abnormal compared to other belly buttons, but luckily, the thought is fleeting and lost quickly to the comfiness of the couch.
“You like this.”
My mouth answers, like a zombie, “Yes.”
“You like being with me.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll stay here forever.”
Forever? Well, not forever.
Even though I don’t answer him, Minx seems to hear it anyway.
He squeezes the fingers of our entwined hands. “Why not?” And his voice is no longer drifty. Now, it sounds agitated.
Why not? Hmmm. That’s a good question. I can’t think of anything more important than this couch, this reaper, this moment. After all, nothing else exists, right?
Wrong.
Oh yeah . . . I remember now.
Pine. Death. The aquarium. A million questions Pine warned me not to ask of ‘dangerous’ Minx.
Dangerous.
Dangerous is relative, so that means that Minx is only relatively dangerous. I know Pine warned me not to ask him any questions, but I have a crazy strong urge to ask anyway. Like, if I don’t find out more about this reaping thing, I won’t ever be able to rest again. Besides, Pine wouldn’t have warned me against asking if there wasn’t a good chance Minx would answer, right?
That’s my thinking, anyway.
“There are things I want to know,” I admit. “I have a lot of questions. I was actually waking you up so that we could talk, maybe?”
“You shouldn’t ask questions, Marley. You should only think about me, or HIM, if you must.”
‘HIM.’ ‘This guy.’
Wait a minute.
I just noticed something. Something potentially important.
“You two never say each other’s names, do you?”
“Cuddle me.” Minx attempts to subdue me by smothering my face to his chest again.
“Why is that? Why don’t you ever say Pine’s name?” But deep down, I think I already know the answer. I figured it out a while ago. Saying the reapers’ names has some sort of power over them.
“Minx.”
The soothing reaper’s body, pressed to mine, jerks.
Everything becomes rapidly clearer. We were lost deep in the pillows, a mix of limbs and tension, but now I realize we’re only snuggled together on the couch at the side of the glass room. Minx’s twitch broke me out. It’s as though I’ve just been doused in a bucket of icy water. Or more like submerged
in a dunk tank. One time I had to sit in one of those for a marching band fundraiser. It was Homecoming week, so it was all fallish and chilly outside anyway, and it wouldn’t have been that bad, except that my not-friend, Amy Jo, has an arm like a Major League pitcher and she kept walloping ball right for the bullseye and sending me into the floaty-filled water over and over and over again.
Beyotch.
I digress.
Back to Minx.
If saying his name once makes him jerk, what about–
“Minx. Minx. Minx.”
“Aargh!” Minx’s voice isn’t in my head anymore. It’s out in the open. He lets out a cry that, if I’m not mistaken, is tortured.
It hurts him?!
Or maybe not–
With vigor, he pounces over me again, holding my shoulders into the cushions with tight fingers. “Say it again.” His eyes are practically aflame with red sheen.
“Will you answer my questions?” I whisper because I’m again aware of Pine standing in the corner, gazing out the window.
“You shouldn’t ask questions, Marley Craw.”
“Miiinx.” I make an attempt at purring his name.
His eyes light brighter, and with a mischievous grin, he closes in on me. “Questions are dangerous, Marley Craw.” He speaks into my ear. “Are you sure you want to ask them?”
Dangerous.
This time I speak into his ear – the one donning three earrings. “Are you dangerous, Miiinx?”
BaBAM! I’m surprised at how seductive I can sound when I put my mind to it! Nice going, Marley Craw! Thumbs up! High five!
Minx bites the top of my ear this time. “I can be,” he says through his teeth.
No matter how much I pretend to be sexy, I’m no match for the artful reapers. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head, I heat up like a thermometer.
Shoot. Minx is totally going to feel the heat coming through my ear and then he’ll know that I’m actually a goober deep down.
I know! I’ll wiggle out from under his grasp before that can happen. Wiggle. Wiggle. Wiggle.
