by SF Benson
Leaning against the island, I say, “Well, my grandfather has always had a soft spot for me. He knows being the son of Khan Najex is difficult.”
“How did things go with your father?” Jeremiah stands and faces me.
“That relationship is done. I realized that if I don’t fear him, he holds no power over me.” Pausing for a moment, I slip my fingers through Jeremiah’s belt loops and pull him close. “But I don’t want to talk about him. Is there a bed in this place?”
He grins. “It’s the only piece of furniture here.”
“That’s all we need.” I lean toward him.
Jeremiah pulls away. “No, it’s not. I was so wrong, and you need to know that. Colton Najex, you are my everything. You’re the reason I wake up each day. You’re the very air that I breathe. The thought of you stays with me all day. And at night, my dreams are of you. If I ever lose you again, I’ll cease to exist. It won’t matter what gift your grandfather gave me. I can’t… I won’t live without you.”
Damn.
“Those words sound like song lyrics.”
Jeremiah cups my face. “All I want is to make music with you. Forgive me for my stupidity. Colton, I promise I’ll always be by your side.”
I can’t help but smile. “Always? There are a few other positions I’d like you to be in.”
“Whatever you want.” He caresses my cheek. “You’re stuck with me forever and ever.”
“No matter what?”
“Even if this world perishes, my soul is always yours.”
“I like the sound of that,” I say against his lips.
It took becoming a human to find my destiny.
In finding me, I found love.
THE END
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LETTING GO
Another Falls Creek Romance Novel, #3
SF Benson
They need each other more than they know.
ANTOINETTE
As a future ballerina on the world stage, she has her whole world ahead of her. Her family and friends are so proud of her accomplishments, but all that will change when her needy boyfriend and fate team up to destroy her.
You can’t dance from a wheelchair.
URAELEUS
As a former Praetorian Guard for Caesar Augustus, his whole world is behind him. When the emperor died, a judgment was made not in his favor. But none of that mattered…
The dead don’t find love again.
One night, life and death collide on a dark road when a surly wraith saves a life. Their paths intertwine, giving them both a second chance…
At everything.
But there are problems. She only wants to die. He’s fighting to live again.
When the path you’re on no longer works…
When everything familiar to you is obliterated…
When you stop fighting for what can never be again…
You don’t give in.
You simply…
Let.
Go.
—PROLOGUE—
Antoinette
The night I died began with a celebration. My friends and I caught a Broadway play and enjoyed a dinner in a five-star restaurant. The plan was to go dancing, stay overnight, and head back to Falls Creek with the morning light.
It wasn’t supposed to be our last girls’ night out.
In two weeks, I was leaving for France to dance for the Opera National de Paris. No more hopping the train to get to class and listen to boring instructors drone on about insignificant facts and figures. Instead, I would train to become a professional ballerina. Something I’ve wanted ever since I saw my first live performance of Swan Lake at the age of four.
Dancing for the Paris Opera Ballet Company was to be the culmination of my hopes, dreams, and years of hard work. Unfortunately, my boyfriend didn’t share in my joy. He didn’t appreciate the fact that the prestigious troupe chose me from the small group of foreigners. He only saw me leaving him.
But none of that mattered the night my boyfriend and fate teamed up.
On the way out of the restaurant, my phone lit up. A chill passed over me when I peered at the screen and saw Rob’s name. My foundation shook. Time slowed down and agony, like a death shroud, settled over me. I tried hard to shake off the sensation, but I couldn’t. Was it a precursor of what was to come?
“Hey, Rob. What’s up?” I tried to ignore the heated stares from Marie and Abby, my best friends since second grade.
“Babe, I need you to come over. I really need you in the worse way,” he pleaded.
Lowering my voice, I whined, “Now? I’m in New York. I’ll be home tomorrow.”
“So, this is how it’s going to be?” His tone turned nasty. “You’re about to leave me, and you can’t even be with me now?”
Not another argument.
Ever since I told Rob about France, all we did was argue. He insisted there had to be a place in the States where I could dance. He even went as far as suggesting Canada. As if that could compare to Paris. Rob claimed he couldn’t live without me. He only wanted to keep me close out of love, he said.
“Rob, let’s not fight about this,” I urged.
“Then come home.” Desperation colored his words. “We won’t fight. I promise.”
This had become his thing. He’d call, and I’d run to him. Over the last two years, I wasn’t proud of the person I’d become or the love we supposedly shared. But we’d been together since sophomore year in high school. Rob had changed from the angsty but cute boy to a man with deep mood swings. Every time his spirits dipped low, he became needy and wanted me at his side.
Frankly, I’d grown tired of being his security blanket. There was a real possibility that our relationship had reached the end of the road. Going to Paris would have allowed us to take a break, meet new people, and have new adventures. But the possibility of dumping Rob hurt. I still loved the man despite all his flaws. Plus, he was the only guy I’d ever had sex with. It was my hope that after a little time apart, we’d rediscover each other.
The upcoming trip made Rob more persistent. Desperate. He was insecure about our future. Perhaps one more night with Rob would ease his fears—we’d talk, and I’d help him understand the importance of this move. After all, Rob was a good guy. He only required kid gloves at times.
Having made up my mind, I said, “Okay. Calm down. I’ll tell the girls. We’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Thanks, babe. See you soon.”
As I returned my phone to my purse, I steadied myself for the complaints. “Ladies, we need to change our plans. I have to go home tonight.”
“No, Toni.” Marie objected as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “Remember, this trip is for us, not Rob. You can see his ass tomorrow night.”
Pulling my wool coat closed, I pointed out, “Marie, you don’t understand. I’ll be leaving soon. I’d rather not have Rob upset with me. He’ll be good after I spend a little more time with him.”
Abby added, “I don’t understand what you hope to accomplish by going back early, Toni. Nothing will change. Don’t you get it? Rob doesn’t want you to enjoy your life! And if he’s using that ‘I’ll die without you’ line again, it’s bullshit. It’s always about him. Not this time. Toni, don’t let him spoil our time together.”
Sighing, I knew it was true. Rob didn’t like my friends, and my friends hated him. He constantly interrupted our plans. Abby and Marie did their best to dissuade me from running to Rob. But this time was different. It wasn’t about the girls.
“You know how Rob is. The longer we don’t speak, the moodier he gets. It’s better this way. Trust me.”
“Whatever,” Marie said. “You better be glad I love you, girl.”
Two hours into the drive, my gaze flicked upward. Marie and Abby sat in the front seat. Pissed. Marie looked at me in the rear-view mirror. It was obvious she was still upset.
“I hope you find a better guy while you’re in Paris.” She searched for another channel o
n Sirius. “We’re young. We’re supposed to be having the time of our lives. Personally, you don’t need an ass like Rob ruining yours.”
In order to avoid another argument, I chose not to reply. It wasn’t worth it.
The next few miles were spent in silence. We’d be in Falls Creek soon, so I texted Rob.
Antoinette Leoni: Hey, we’re almost back to town. I’ll have Marie drop me off at your place.
Technically, Rob’s condo belonged to his parents, but they let him move there after high school when he claimed to need privacy. Since Mom and Dad weren’t expecting me, I’d stay with Rob overnight. The time together would do us good. In the end, Rob would calm down and maybe help me decide whether we should maintain a long-distance relationship.
But distance wouldn’t be a problem for us.
Rob Mitchell: It’s about damned time. Let yourself in.
His mood had gotten worse. Not good.
Antoinette Leoni: We’re on the toll road. See you in a bit.
I considered my words for a moment before settling on a simple sentiment.
Antoinette Leoni: I love you, Rob.
Rob Mitchell: I love you, too.
Slipping my phone into my coat pocket, I stared toward the front of the car. I didn’t like having Marie and Abby mad at me because of Rob. Unfortunately, neither my friends nor my parents appreciated my boyfriend. They found him overbearing and far too possessive.
Soon, I would learn that time was too short for anger.
Problem was that nobody knew Rob like I did. When he wanted, he could be a sweetheart. His romantic gestures rivaled some of my father’s toward my mom. As long as I didn’t piss Rob off, he was the best guy ever. Sure, he had issues, but who didn’t?
Truth be told, I shouldn’t have cared so much. In the end, it accomplished nothing.
Rob’s life hadn’t been easy as the son of a former military officer. Mr. Mitchell was always on Rob’s back about something or another. Once Rob graduated and no longer needed his parents to pay his way, he’d be out from under his father’s dictatorship. It was my hope that Rob would then relax and stop being so possessive. Just because Mr. Mitchell was that way with his wife didn’t mean Rob had to pattern that behavior. Did it?
I wished people could see my boyfriend the way I did—a man full of potential who really did care about me.
But that night,—that terrible fate-filled night none of it would matter anymore.
Abby turned up the music and announced, “Okay. You bitches have brought down my mood. I don’t want to hear any more talk of boyfriends. We’re not even talking about Paris. We need to finish this party in high—”
A glaring bright light cut off Abby’s words. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes widened. Somebody screamed.
The world tilted right before it was pushed forward, sending us out of control.
Marie jerked the wheel, and I slid across the backseat, but the attempt to steer out of the way came too late. Something slammed into the car. Metal squealed. Wheels screeched. Our screams filled the night as time unraveled and stalled.
Breaking glass surrounded me as my body slowly catapulted over the seat. Time wobbled, and the rough asphalt, breaking my descent, scraped and dragged my skin from the bone. Intense pain cut through my body and stole my breath. Everything hurt, but I couldn’t move.
Tears rolled from my eyes as they shifted from side to side. Something hissed in the distance, and a high-pitched beeping filled the air. The smell of stale whiskey tickled my nose. I wanted to gag but couldn’t. Instead, warm liquid dripped from my mouth while my vision began dimming.
Where were Abby and Marie? Were they okay?
In the distance, a hub-cap spun, performing a mechanical pirouette. There was twisted beauty in the spiraling object as it took its final bow. A worthwhile display without an appreciative audience. No applause. Not even a standing ovation.
People always told me your life flashed in front of your face before you died. They claimed you’d see images of people and places special to you. Don’t believe it. It wasn’t true for me.
My life didn’t flash by. It stalled like the needle on an old 45 record was lifted. It slowed to a damn crawl and then trickled onto the pavement. For a fleeting moment, one lonely minute or two, images of the guy I loved—how much I’d miss him—and my parents danced in my mind once more. Then my eyes fluttered closed on my final curtain.
—CHAPTER ONE—
Uraeleus
In Falls Creek trouble is brewing. On an obtuse level, I feel it. The sensation—dark and threatening—has an erratic pulse. If I still had bones, they’d rattle right about now. I’m also sure goosebumps would break out along my olive-colored flesh—something else I don’t own.
Concerning myself with human troubles is an unnecessary enterprise. I didn’t care about people when I was alive. Why should I care now?
The cool night breeze cuts through me—rearranging my particles, making it harder for me to maintain a semblance of shape. The best season for a wraith is summer. Gentle breezes and hot sun have no bearing on my condition. For a few months, I bask in the warmth and pretend to feel a part of the world. It might not seem like much, but when you’ve been dead as long as I have you appreciate whatever you get.
It’s unusually quiet out on the interstate tonight. No trucks. No cars. No people. Not even a snake slithering by. Frankly, I’m unsure what brought me out here this evening, but it’s time for me to move on. Nothing to see here. And that’s the problem with Falls Creek. Nothing to see or do. Ever. It’s why I made the decision, a few days ago, to leave town. Permanently.
“Help.” The plea is weak, like a whisper. Easily missed if there had been traffic.
When I don’t hear anything else, I assume it must be my imagination and start to move on.
“H-help.” There it is again.
Keep moving. One less human polluting the world.
“Help us.” This time I stop and examine the area thoroughly, looking for anything out of place.
The tenacious, determined cry reminds me of a voice I hadn’t heard in centuries. One that haunts my memories from time to time.
It’s not her. Move on.
I start to drift away when the smell of smoke and copper assaults my senses, forcing me to halt my steps. Fear courses through me—the first time in a very long time—and I don’t appreciate it at all. I can think of a million things I’d rather do at the moment. Anything other than investigate what lies before me.
I was a heartless jack ass in my youth, but not even a cur would walk away from the sight in the road ahead. A few feet away is a twisted, smoking wreck of a car. The frame is bent onto itself like a steel pretzel and broken glass covers the asphalt, but it’s the two injured human females encouraging me to intervene. The driver is barely conscious. Her head, resting on a shard of glass, bleeds profusely. Her lifeline is intact. Her wounds are critical, but she should survive with medical help. The other girl, possibly the passenger, doesn’t move. She’s wedged between the folds of metal. Her lifeline is cut. Grabbing my attention, however, is the girl lying in the road, like a pile of rubble.
“Help me,” her soul cries out. Its hopelessly tethered to the dying host by a metal fragment.
In times such as these, I’m supposed to help the soul move on. All I have to do is remove the steel shard. Stopping next to the slender body, broken beyond repair, I lower myself and examine the twisted figure. Blood flows from an unseen wound and covers her pretty face. The unnatural angle of the human indicates multiple fractures. It reminds me of the poor souls I saw after chariot accidents. Not a pretty sight. Much like those citizens, I doubt if she’ll ever use her legs again. That is, if she survives.
So help her.
I have no interest in her life or death. She’s just another human soul. Her departure would free up space for another person.
Then walk away.
But I can’t simply watch her die. What is it about this girl drawing me in? W
hy do I want to help her?
During my lifetime, I never had the desire to help anyone but myself. Eating, drinking, fighting, and fucking were my only concerns. The one woman I could have helped…should have helped died because of me. When she was arrested, I denied her faster than Judas did Jesus. Instead of helping, I watched the guards behead her. Like I said, I was a sorry excuse for a human being.
Death did not improve my disposition. Now, my indifference extends beyond humans and encompasses supernaturals too. Besides, assisting others requires too much effort. No one raised a finger to prevent my death. But watching life slip away from this human moves me. Deep down, I sense her loss will hurt a lot of people, and that bothers the hell out of me.
