by Marie Hall
The pain, anger, it all washed away with the pulsing white light.
“Cian...” she breathed, “what?”
“I don’t know, Eve. I don’t know.” But whatever it was, it felt good. The dark stains inside his soul shrank, faded to the dark hole of obscurity, banished by the beauty of her gift.
He entered her again, her beautiful eyes turned soft. There was no rushing of bodies, but rather a silky melding of hearts.
She wrapped her legs around him.
“Eve,” he whispered, awed by the gift she was giving him.
The lightness and darkness spread like liquid throughout the room. Her legs trembled and she cried out.
He clenched his teeth, tasting her passion. Her climax. She was spiraling through a sexual haze, dragging him with her. A slow burn inched through his veins. Then she burst. An eruption of energy so strong the room shook. With her release came his, and he roared as his seed exploded inside her.
Then all was calm. Two hearts beating in unison. Arms and legs wrapped around each other. Eyes closed, he took a deep breath and willed his heart back to normal.
She broke the silence with her trademark throaty laugh. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“Eve. You’ve bewitched me.”
She kissed his forehead, smoothing back his hair. “I think it’s the other way around.”
He wrapped her in his arms, content to just hold her.
“Why did we glow? That was bordering on Sci-fi territory there. And I know magick.”
He shook his head, burying his nose in her hair. “I’m not sure.”
They settled against each other, his fingers lazily drawing circles on her arm. In this moment, in this hour, everything was as it should be. Perfect. And they continued to enjoy each other for several more hours, lost in the wonder of new love.
A static burst of radio from an alarm clock shattered their lovemaking. He glanced at the clock sitting on her end table. His eyes widened as his heart raced out of control.
It was six thirty a.m., and the responsibility of who he was, the truth’s he must tell, all came crashing back with brutal reality.
“Oh jeez, how did I lose track of time like that?” Eve sat up and shut off the alarm with a dejected sigh. She looked at Cian with a sad puppy dog frown. “I have to start getting dressed for work. I wish I could just stay here with you instead.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “But I guess you probably need to get going yourself. Sun’s gonna be up in another half an hour.”
He grabbed her fingers, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was so quiet. A sudden tension began to twist and grow through the room.
She swallowed hard. The sexual high she’d just been on plummeted. She thought back to the I have to tell you something moment of a few hours ago and a crushing sense of loss slithered down her spine.
It wasn’t that she was a mind reader, and honestly she couldn’t explain the leeching feeling of dread seeping through her skin, but she knew something terrible was about to happen.
“Eve,” he started and opened his eyes. Their blue depths glittered with sadness.
She ground her jaw, snatching up a green terry cloth robe sitting over the footboard of the bed, covering her body like a shield.
“Cian,” she stopped him, lifting her hand and shaking her head. “Don’t... please.”
He sat up, running a finger down her arm. Even though she knew he was about to tell her something terrible, she couldn’t stop herself from enjoying his touch.
“Eve,” he pleaded. “You’ve got to listen to me.”
She closed her eyes. “Let me preserve this beautiful memory. If you're leaving me--" her voice cracked, "then I won't stop you. But let's not taint what we shared with ugly truth.”
“What I have to tell you, you’ll eventually learn on your own, and you’ll hate me even more for finding out by someone else.”
Pain tore through her heart. Was he married? A murderer? What?
Her hands shook as she stood from the bed and walked to her closet, pulling out a skirt and top. He sighed behind her, and she leaned her head against the door, closing her eyes for a split second.
She didn’t want to know, but at the same time curiosity poisoned her thoughts. She pulled on her clothes and then turned to him.
He was propped up against a pillow, the blanket covering his nude torso. Worry lines marked his forehead as he looked at her with silent appeal.
Moments ago she was the happiest she’d ever been, now she felt nothing but dread. “If you insist, then at least give me enough time to get ready for the day. Because I have a sickening feeling that once I find out, I won’t be able to do much of anything.”
He lowered his eyes and she ran to the bathroom.
***
Eve sat at her kitchen table, the sound of a running showerhead filtered from her bedroom.
Her gut churned with anxiety, wondering what he would say. She closed her eyes, pain spearing her heart.
A loud knock on the front door made her yelp and clutch her chest. She glanced at the clock. It was seven.
“Who...” Then it hit her, the breakfast date she’d made with Curtis. She groaned and dropped her head. Now was definitely not a good time for that.
She marched to the door and opened it. Curtis inclined his head with a bright smile. “Good morning there, Eve. Brought us some bagels and tea.” He held up a white paper sack. Two steaming styrofoam cups in a holder in his other hand.
“Curtis, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about this and I just don’t think it’s such a good time right now.”
He frowned, the light shining in his rich mahogany eyes turned dull. “I’m sorry to hear that. You know what...” He gently pushed his way inside and walked to her kitchen.
Her eyes went wide. Had he just barged in after she’d told him no? Shock rooted her to the spot.
Curtis placed the bag and tea on the counter. “You keep these then. Maybe some other day.”
Eve waited for him to leave, but he just stood there, smiling. She kept the door open and walked toward him, trying to formulate in her mind the best way to ask him to leave. He flicked his eyes toward her and a burning flame of amber undulated in their depths.
Instinctively she recoiled.
“I’m sorry, Eve. I didn’t want it to happen this way,” he said and grabbed her wrist.
A surge of vertigo shot down her skull, into her neck and through her limbs turning them numb. Nothing made sense. A murky haze descended over her mind.
“Come closer,” he demanded.
And she did. Like a puppet being pulled by its strings. She tried to fight it. Told her brain to stop. But it was like a virus had infected her mind. Nothing worked. She thought harder and harder. Stop. Please stop. What’s happening? My goddess, I’m still moving. I can’t. I can’t...
She was outside herself, watching this all happen like it was a movie on a screen. Inside she wailed, screamed. A shiver of panic stole her breath.
He looked at her, squinting his eyes. His nostrils flared, and any internal thought she possessed, any ability to realize this was wrong, dissipated.
“Pick up your cup.” It was Curtis speaking, but the voice wasn’t his. It was ancient, filled with incredible power.
She watched her hand reach out and pick up the cup.
“Take off the lid.”
Trembling fingers tore the lid off.
“Now,” he opened the paper sack, pulling out a small white canister, “add some sugar.” He opened the lid.
Small yellow flecks filled the jar. She blinked. The label on the side read “wolfsbane.”
“It’s not sugar,” she whispered. Eve tried hard to think, to remember why that wasn’t good. Deep down, aware that something was terribly wrong.
“Of course it is,” he said, and pushed it toward her, dipping a spoon into the jar and pulling it out to show her the white granules of sugar.
She sighed and smiled. Of course. Harmless. “Sugar f
or my tea.”
“Yes, that’s right. Put some in.”
She dropped two spoonfuls of sugar into her cup.
“Good. Very good. Now stir it, Eve.”
She stirred.
“Drink it.”
She brought the cup to her lips, steam curling under her nose, liquid barely sliding against the skin of her lips--ready to swallow, to take her first taste of the brew. But not yet. Something inside her, something stopped her at the last minute; all she could do was hold the cup against her lips.
“Drink it, Eve. Drink it now!” Curtis commanded. Then he sucked in a breath, his gaze darting to the hallway. He swiped his hand through the air and vanished.
“Eve!” Cian roared, running into the living room and breaking her from her trance.
Startled, she screamed and jerked, pulling the cup away before the first taste. A small splash of hot tea spilled onto the front of her shirt. She hissed as it scalded. Then she frowned at the blank slate of time lost.
She stared at her hand. Confusion clawed at her throat. She couldn’t remember. What was she doing holding tea? When had she made it? She looked at the styrofoam and her eyes widened. Dazed, she sat the cup down on the kitchen table.
What was going on?
She looked to Cian and her jaw went slack.
“Are you okay?” he asked, running up to her.
“What’s happened to your hand?” she shrieked, staring at the macabre ivory of bone.
He closed his eyes and hugged the skeletal hand to his chest. “This...was what I needed to tell you.”
This wasn’t how he’d wanted to tell her, but when his hand had shifted all reason had fled and he’d run to her with one thought in mind--keep her safe.
He glanced around the room. There was nothing. No feeling of death lingering in the air. He’d felt death. He was sure of that. Where was Frenzy? The reaper had to be around.
“Cian,” her voice shook, “what is going on?” Distress sparkled in her golden gaze.
Something he’d like to know himself. These circumstances felt wrong. How could he always sense another reaper but never see him? Think, Cian. Think. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. If you can solve this riddle, you can figure out how to save her. He knew that. Instinctively, he knew that.
“Tell me.” Her voice was a tight thread of anxiety.
She wanted his answers. He wanted answers. His mind was split. He couldn’t focus on two things at once. And the thread of doubts concerning Frenzy became hazy, foggy. He lost his train of thought.
“Eve, I...”
“You’re what? Tell me. Get it over with. Who are you, Cian?”
“I’m not who you think I am,” he growled, refocusing on her.
She flinched, and her fear stabbed through his heart.
His nostrils flared at the metaphysical pain. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
“I...” Do it, damn it! Tell her now. Panicked, he said in a rush, “Eve, I killed your husband.”
She didn’t make a sound, but the chill of her pain encased him in burning frost. It was like licking flames eating at his flesh, tearing him apart from the inside.
“You weren’t the one who ran us over. I saw him,” her voice cracked.
His blood pumped harder with anxiety.
“I’m death, Eve. What humans call the grim reaper.” He held up his hand.
She was silent. Barely breathing. Hardly moving.
Her stillness unnerved him. If only she’d say something. Do something. He spoke into the quiet, not able to stop now that he’d started.
“My hand turns to bone when a soul is ready to be harvested, as it did on the day of your husband’s death. But I wasn’t just there for him. You were supposed to die too.”
The static of her energy tormented him.
He frowned. “I... I couldn’t do it. I tried.” His gaze dropped to the floor, unable to stand the vacant look in her eyes. “You were a fighter, and even though I hardly knew you then, I already loved you. You saw me, for the first time in my existence, somebody saw me.”
Through all of that she didn’t make a sound.
There was one last confession that had to be made. He took a deep breath. “I belong to the circle of Fae. I’m no vampire.”
She inhaled sharply then, her breathing began to come in hard and heavy pants.
“You killed Michael.” There was a hollowness to her voice he’d never heard before.
He reached for her hand out of habit.
“No!” She pulled away, hugging her arms to her chest. “Don’t touch me. Never again.”
Her words slid over his skin like burning oil. His heart shattered at the look of repulsion on her face. A bluish-green vein on the side of her neck pulsed with a rush of blood and adrenaline.
Her lips pulled back, exposing her gums as she sneered. “Why? Tell me why? What possible reason could you have for taking his life?”
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “It was my duty. It was his time.”
“Time. Time! You talk to me about time. What the hell would you know about that? We were trying to have a baby. Our lives were finally settled.” She touched her flat stomach.
Her torment snapped through him like the angry slash of The Morrigan’s whip.
“Eve, please try to understand.”
“No! I don’t want to ever hear you say my name again.” She shook, her fists clenching by her sides. “So was I a great lay, Cian?”
He winced and shook his head. “Please don’t do that. I wanted you. I... Eve, I know what you must think, but...”
She gave him a sarcastic, evil laugh. “Oh really. You do, huh? I’ll tell you what I heard. One...” she lifted her hand and ticked off a finger, “you killed my husband. Two. You tell me it was out of some freaking sense of duty. Which let me tell you is no consolation. And three, you’re a ga’...”
She snapped her mouth shut. A muscle in her jaw ticked.
He knew what she’d been about to say. That he was a fae. His grief turned to anger and desperation. “No. It is my duty. Just as it’s my duty now to protect you. There’s still a bounty on your head. The Morrigan will not rest until she sees you dead. Don’t you get it? I’m here to protect you. I love...”
“Don’t,” she cut him off with a swipe of her hand, “even say those disgusting words to me. As if I’d believe you anyway.”
Tears were shining in her eyes, her face scrunched and she was on the verge of tears. “You used me.”
“Not a chance! It was real.”
“I was such a fool. So what is it, Cian? Do the beautiful ones find you revolting? Do they look at you with pity, or disgust? Or maybe both? How long has it been since you’ve been laid that you’d be willing to screw the wife of a dead man?” Tears were streaming down her face in a rushing torrent that she didn’t even bother to disguise.
“I resent your accusations.” He clenched his jaw. She was swinging below the belt, in his anger he said the first words that came to mind. “What hurts worse, Eve? That I killed your husband. Or that you sullied your lily white hands on a Fae? That you let one touch you? That you actually enjoyed it?”
She swung her head to the side, her eyes widening with rage. “How dare you try to turn this on me? How dare you imply that?”
“You think I’m stupid enough not to know your disgust where the Fae are concerned. Imagine if all your friends were to find out we screwed and you loved it. You think any of them would ever look at you the same way again?”
“Damn you.”
He regretted his words, but they were out there and could never be forgotten. “It was never about the sex for me. And if I could bring your husband back I swear to the Goddess I would, if only to see you happy again.”
Her whole body jerked in response. “You’re so good. I almost believe you. But guess what...”
This was worse than he’d imagined. In some misguided way, he’d hoped she’d forgive him. That in their time together she’d actually s
een the truth of who he was. He’d been wrong, and lost his soul in the process.
“...you’ve lied to me before.” She picked up her purse and turned toward the door.
She opened the door and with her back to him, whispered, “You can see yourself out.”
Then she walked out without so much as a backwards glance.
***
She didn’t care where she was headed, only that she had to get away. Having to look at the face she’d thought she’d fallen in love with for another second would have killed her. Did he have any idea, any clue? Did he even care how much it hurt?
She was rippling with energy, begging for anyone or anything to cross her path. Eve wanted to fight, to rip and claw and tear stuff apart. At the same time she wanted to scream and fall to the ground in a puddle of tears. But all she could do was run.
Before she knew where she was headed, she was already there. Club X. It never even crossed her mind to find her sisters.
She ran up the stairs, passing all the floors until she reached the mixed flock and entered, her gaze frantically searching for the one being able to bring her any kind of peace.
Under a dim blue light sat the hunched form of Lise. Her white gaze locked onto Eve’s.
She walked to the booth and stopped, trembling and unsure of herself. Only knowing death couldn’t be worse than the ache in her heart.
“Sit.” The word was like a rushing wind, powerful, and full of unimagined strength.
It never crossed Eve’s mind to refuse. She sat down, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. Her leg keeping up a nervous rhythm.
“Why did you run away, Eve? Why did you leave him? Do you know how stupid that was? Especially now?”
She frowned. She’d expected sympathy, not judgmental scorn. She was the wounded party, not him. He’d lied to her, killed her spouse. Why would Lise even care?
“He killed Michael.”
Lise narrowed her eyes. “Doing his job!”
She snorted, not wanting to hear this. “No. No.”
