by Elise Marion
This was Tracy’s soul, the way she’d been on the inside.
“You, too,” she replied.
Then, she reached up to touch his forehead. Not until her fingertips found the furrows in his brow did he even realized they’d been there. His face relaxed.
“You look … tired, Jack. You look strained.”
He snorted. “That’s an understatement. A lot has happened since you …”
“Died,” she finished for him. “It’s okay to say it. I died. So did you, from the looks of it.”
He shrugged. “All in the line of duty. I got impaled on a demon horn and bled to death. For some reason, they saw fit to keep me here.”
She shook her head, dark curls bobbing around her face. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t look like you just died. You look like you’ve been dead for some time. You’re not the man I remember. What happened to you?”
“How can you ask me that?” he retorted. “Isn’t it obvious? I lost you; that’s what happened to me. Then I kept on losing. Every day that passed after your death, I felt more and more alone. I’ve missed you every day.”
Her smile seemed apologetic this time, almost sad. “I’m sorry. I can’t say the same.”
“Of course not. You get to be in Heaven. No more sickness or pain. No more fighting. No more sadness. You found peace.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to see you suffer.”
“Then tell me what I need to do to get out of this place,” he pleaded. “I don’t know what Michael wants from me.”
She sighed, taking his hand and leading him over to the lounge chair. Gesturing for him to sit, she lowered herself beside him.
“I cannot tell you that,” she said. “Only you can figure this out. It’s very simple, Jack. You need to dig deep and think. Why are you here?”
Grunting in frustration, he shot to his feet, pacing in front of her. “Not you, too! I can’t do this, Tracy. I have no idea why I’m here!”
Despite his manic state, she remained calm, folding her hands in her lap and gazing up at him with sympathy in her stare.
“Well, that’s why I’m here—to help you figure it out. Because, your mission might just depend on it, as well as your life. If you want to go back to her, you’re going to have to do this.”
“You know about Addison?”
She shrugged. “We get to peek in on our loved ones from time to time up here. Mostly, I check in on my brother, because I worry about him. You, I always thought you would be okay. Micah …”
He chuckled. “You know him.”
“Yeah, I do. Anyway, when I look in on him, that inevitably leads to seeing you. I know all about Addison.”
Embarrassment lowered his gaze to the ground as he thought about his night with Addison on the roof of his parents’ building. To think of anyone being a witness to that moment felt wrong, but with Tracy, it seemed like betrayal.
She laughed, touching his shoulder. “Hey, I don’t stick around for that stuff. Anyway, I’m happy for you. If I get to find peace in Heaven, then of course I want you to have happiness and love on Earth.”
He nodded. “I get it. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. We still need to answer the question. Really think about this, Jack. You died. You’ve lived a good life and served as a Guardian since you were a kid, which means you’ve earned your place in Heaven.”
“Which is exactly why I can’t understand this. Why am I here?”
She smiled, her green eyes twinkling. “That is the question, isn’t it?”
“There must be more for me to do on Earth. My job isn’t done. So why would God allow me to die? Why would he keep me here instead of sending me back to fulfill my purpose?”
“Which leads me back to my last question. What happened to you Jack? Like I said, I’ve been watchin’ you and Micah. I see the changes in you. You used to be so passionate about bein’ a Guardian. Over the year since I’ve been gone, I’ve watched you become bitter and hardened. You lost all hope.”
He clenched his jaw and hung his head. “What hope is there when a man loses everything for a cause with no end—his youth, his innocence, his hope in faith, in humanity … the love of his life? I had hope, Tracy. You were my hope. He took that away from me.”
“He? You mean the man that killed me? Or someone else?”
He sighed. “He. Him.”
“God.”
“Tracy …”
“Jack, we won’t get anywhere if you can’t say it. You have to admit it, to me, out loud. Right now. If you can’t admit it, you’ll never be able to move forward and you will miss your chance with Addison, your chance at beatin’ Eligos. Your family will continue to suffer. Micah … he needs you, probably more than anyone else in the world. So, stop with the bullshit, okay?”
He raised his eyebrows, chuckling. “Are you allowed to cuss in Heaven?”
Hands on her hips, she started to resemble the old Tracy—the one he’d known and loved. “This ain’t Heaven; it’s a space in between. And if this is the only way to get to you, then I’m gonna do it, because even though I’m happy in my afterlife, I still care about you. I’m still rootin’ for you. I want you to get out of here and go back down there and kick Eligos’ ass. So … I need you to admit what you already know to be true. You’re angry. You’ve been angry since I died. Hell, maybe even before that, you had a little anger going on and it got worse.”
He sighed, running a hand over his hair. He’d been avoiding it for so long, trying to hide his true feelings beneath a veneer. The truth could no longer be denied. Everyone perceived Micah as the messed-up one, but the truth remained that he had been just as bad. He’d just been better at hiding it than his partner.
“Okay,” he relented, nodding. “Okay, I give. Yes, I am angry. I’ve been angry since you died, and yeah, maybe I had already started getting a bit cynical before then. Can you blame me?”
“Of course not,” she replied. “We’re only human. I can’t pretend I didn’t feel like that sometimes. But you can’t let it distract you from your purpose.”
“I didn’t!” he bellowed, frustration causing his chest to swell. He clenched his fists at his sides and began to pace again. “I have been killing myself trying to do my part in finishing this mission! Since you died, I have done nothing but fight and kill demons, waiting for a chance to take a crack at the big dogs! Are you telling me now that it wasn’t good enough?”
She folded her hands in front of her, inclining her head at him. “Is that what you think? Do you think He doesn’t care? Do you think you’ve been abandoned?”
“Why does it matter how I feel, as long as I do my job?”
“It matters, Jack. You’re angry, and you need to face that anger.”
Growling, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’d never felt this way before—he’d never let himself. It seemed like hot lava had filled his veins, as if he would incinerate, going up in flames from the inside out.
“Yes,” he whispered. Even when he felt like screaming, he still found a way to stifle his feelings. It was what he’d always done so that he could survive. Because it’s what people expected from him. “I am angry. I am so damn angry. Every day, all the time.”
“Good,” she declared. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Getting somewhere? Apparently, admitting there was a problem wouldn’t be enough. Which meant they were only getting started.
Addison came awake suddenly, eyes snapping open and body instantly alert. She couldn’t put her finger on what had caused the disturbance in her sleep, and thus became annoyed. After the long night at Temptations, she’d wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours. She didn’t have class or work the next day, thus the luxury of sleeping in. She’d gone to bed with every intention of staying there, avoiding Micah, the other Guardians, and wallow in her grief and painful memories.
With a huff, she closed her eyes, trying to sink back into slumb
er. It continued to elude her, despite her earlier fatigue and the serious lack of sleep she’d been experiencing the last few weeks.
Suddenly, her body began to move. Frowning, she stared down to realize she’d come to a sitting position, though she couldn’t remember getting there. Then, she stood staring down at her feet, planted firmly on the floor. Her brain had sent no signals to her limbs; yet, she moved, walking at a steady pace toward the bedroom door. Panic overcame her when she realized her body refused to follow the directions of her mind.
Opening the door, she crossed the hall toward the apartment’s second bedroom—Micah’s. She held her breath while reaching out to swing the door open, blinking to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
He lay sprawled beneath a thin, white sheet, his red plaid comforter kicked down to the foot of the bed. His impossibly wide body nearly took up the entire full-size bed, and his feet hung over the edge. He was naked from the waist up, his oversized chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The faint moonlight streaming through the window illuminated him—his tousled hair, parted lips, and the fan of eyelashes resting on his cheekbones.
Biting her lower lip, she wrestled in her mind over what to do. Should she say something to wake him? Tell him what was going on? Yet, even her mouth seemed to disobey her mind, her tongue as if glued to the roof of her mouth.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she came to a stop right at the foot of the bed. Unable to move another step, she simply stood, staring down at the motionless figure on the bed. Glancing around the room, she fought to get her bearings.
What could be happening?
She’d never experienced anything like this. It had to be a dream; yet, she felt awake. If she dreamt this, then it felt entirely too real.
She had just made up her mind to say something to Micah, to assure herself that it was a dream, or get his help in figuring out what was going on with her—some kind of weird Naphil thing, maybe—when he shifted on the bed.
The mattress groaned beneath his bulk, mingling with the sound of his breath hitching and then rushing out on a deep sigh. Throwing one arm over his face, he shifted again, seeming to grow restless. He turned his head, chest heaving faster as his breathing became more rapid. His muscles bunched and rolled, tensing beneath skin growing slick with the sheen of sweat.
Frowning, she studied his now-turbulent face. He looked as if he wrestled with something in his sleep—as if his dreams haunted him. It seemed he lost the battle with whatever he faced.
Deciding to wake him up, she managed to pry her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
Before she could call out to him, he spoke, his voice like a gunshot in the silent room. Uttering a low moan, the sound that only resulted from someone being in tremendous pain or incredible pleasure, he parted his lips and murmured, “Addison.”
She stood in his doorway, staring at him with those wide, honey-colored eyes of hers. And he was a fool, because he could do nothing but sit there in his bed, staring back at her. She wore an oversized T-shirt—one of Jack’s, he figured. If she had anything else on, he couldn’t tell. He saw nothing but her legs, long and sinewy, yet powerful. He remembered them clenching the pole at Temptations as she pulled herself up, then spreading as she swung around. His mouth went dry when he thought of them wrapped around his waist.
What the hell is wrong with you?
He couldn’t want his buddy’s girl. His best friend’s girl.
Especially not after he’d looked into her eyes that afternoon and seen the truth. She and Jack had been a real thing. Not just sex or a fling. They’d been in love.
He had no right to feel anything for her. Truth be told, he didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to care if she lived or died, or what she thought of him. He didn’t want to think about the way the sun made her hair come alive like flickering flames or her eyes to turn into pools of brilliant gold.
He didn’t want to think about how cranked up watching her fight demons had made him. A girl who could handle a gun always scored points with him.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he growled, tearing his gaze away from her and fixing it on the sheet covering him from the waist down.
“I know,” she replied. Her deep, husky voice sent fire racing straight to his groin.
Damn it!
“Then get out,” he snapped.
Ignoring him, she stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind her. He watched warily as she reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it off over her head. It didn’t matter that he’d seen her in a G-string already. The black bra and panties she wore beneath the shirt seemed far more erotic, revealing but also concealing. His gaze traced a path over the smooth curve of her waist and hip, and he didn’t bother to disguise his hunger.
He should have asked her what she was doing—why she’d come into his room and started taking her clothes off. It didn’t make sense; Addison loved Jack. As well she should. He was the last person on Earth she should have felt any sort of attraction to, and he certainly didn’t deserve it after the way he’d treated her. But hope was a funny thing. Even when he knew he didn’t deserve a thing from her, somewhere deep inside, he wanted to be worthy.
She climbed onto the bed, crawling toward him. Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched her come closer, felt the smooth slide of her legs against his as she climbed over him.
“Last warning, cher,” he murmured, tilting his head back to meet her gaze. “You climb in bed with the devil, there’s no turnin’ back after that.”
A sensual smile curved her mouth and she planted her hands on his shoulders, lowering herself onto his lap. Her palms slid over his shoulders, up his neck to his jaw. Cupping his face, she leaned in, lips parted.
The last fragile thread of his control snapped, and he allowed visceral instinct to have its moment. Swiftly grasping her shoulders, he turned her over and reversed their positions so that she lay beneath him. Straddling her legs, he loomed over her, his hold shifting to her wrists and holding her prisoner against the mattress.
Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled, despite her body’s obvious response to his proximity. Her legs spread as if to invite him in, her back arching and offering her breasts to his ravenous mouth. He leaned closer, his gaze roaming her face in the pale light of the moon coming through his window.
“If you’re afraid, you should be,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers tentatively. “I know I am, cher. Scared shitless of a little thing like you.”
Still, she didn’t speak. She only lifted her head toward his and claimed his mouth with hers.
With a groan, he sank into her, releasing her wrists and sliding his hands upward until their fingers intertwined. Pushing aside the voice of reason telling him this was wrong, he parted his lips and began to devour her.
Chapter Nine: The Purge
This was wrong. So wrong. Addison’s mind screamed at her to put a stop to it, to dislodge Micah’s hold on her. He had strength beyond anything a normal man should possess, but her force could be enough to compare if she let it. They both knew this. All she had to do was say no, or push him off. Micah could be a jerk, but he didn’t seem like the type to force a girl against her will.
Besides, as far as he knew, she’d come on to him. She had stepped into his room and started taking her clothes off. How could anyone expect a man to turn down what appeared to be a blatant invitation?
Yet, she’d known no way to tell him that her body was doing things her mind had no control over. She didn’t want this. If she’d desired anyone’s kiss, it was Jack’s.
However, even closing her eyes, she couldn’t pretend she was with anyone but Micah. He was too different from Jack, his bulky body a surprisingly pleasant weight on top of her. The arms on either side of her were far too big, the hands clasping hers rougher and calloused. The lips devouring hers hungrily weren’t as full as they should have been, yet firmer and sure.
At what point had this become real? A drea
m melting into a frightening reality. Micah was kissing her and she liked it. She liked his large frame up against hers, the big hands surprisingly gentle as they ran down from her wrists, tracing their way down her body.
More than all of that, she liked the temporary respite from loneliness and pain, the comfort of being with another person … even if it was the wrong person, the last man on Earth she should have shared a moment like this with.
The longer she allowed it to go on, the worse she felt, even while her body betrayed her, arching up to meet his, squirming beneath his touch. A tear squeezed from the corner of one eye as guilt assaulted her. Jack … her heart belonged to Jack. It was far too soon for her to move on. Even if it weren’t, the last person she should be moving on with had to be Micah. Jack’s best friend.
His lips stilled against hers suddenly and he moved away from her, scowling. A ferocious light crept into his eyes, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Though she knew he’d never really liked her, he’d never looked at her with such hatred and disgust before. Her stomach turned and fear struck deep in her gut.
“What’s this?” he grunted, reaching out to catch the tear racing down her cheek, swiping it away with his finger. “I get it. Not good enough for you?”
Her brow furrowed and she struggled to sit up, finally regaining control of her limbs. It felt as if whatever had gripped her had loosened its hold.
“What? No, of course not! I—”
His hand shot up, lightning quick. His palm slammed into her throat and his fingers wrapped around her neck. The pressure he exerted was just enough to make breathing difficult. Her pulse quickened and blood roared in her ears as he pulled her up, closer to him.
“Of course not,” he said, mimicking her voice. He scoffed. “I’m not Jack, so of course I couldn’t be good enough for the daughter of a junkie and a demon.”
