The Kiss of Death

by Auryn Hadley

  She nodded in understanding. "I bet, but you're pretty lucky if you just got a scar out of all that."

  "What about my car?"

  "The cops will take it to the impound."

  I groaned. "I can't afford that!"

  She patted my arm in sympathy. "They'll want to check for evidence, but by the time you're out of the hospital, they should be done. It's not like getting towed."

  "I need to call work." I couldn't help it; the to-do list was starting to form in my head.

  "One of the nurses will be happy to do that. Just let them know in the ER."

  The doors at the back of the ambulance closed and the siren started up, barely audible inside the vehicle. I turned and looked around, seeing a man sitting on the other side. Something was tight on my upper arm. I checked and found the guy reaching for a stethoscope, evidently to check my blood pressure. The crackling of plastic on my left made me look back to the woman. She was opening something.

  "I'm going to start an IV," she said, turning my arm so my palm faced up.

  I closed my eyes, felt the pinch, then the adhesive to hold it all in place. It pinched again when she attached the line, and something cold flowed into my arm. I flexed my fingers and looked, impressed at how efficient the entire process was.

  "Do you have any allergies?" This time from the man.

  "None that I know of."

  The woman made a noise in acknowledgment. "Then I'm going to give you something for pain. It might make you feel a little nauseous, but it will make your head feel better."

  "Sure."

  She wasn't kidding. The drug flowed through the clear line, into my vein, and my stomach flipped only seconds later. I swallowed, trying to silence it, and breathed deeply. The last thing I wanted to do was puke on the people trying so hard to be nice.

  "This sucks," I groaned.

  She chuckled in sympathy. "How's your head?"

  That was when I realized how much it had hurt. The pounding had stopped and the line of fire now felt like a bruise: something I didn't want to touch but that didn't hurt if left alone.

  "Better."

  "Good. You probably have a concussion, and you may have some nausea, disorientation, light sensitivity, or memory issues. The pain medication may give you strange dreams. If you experience any of this, let your doctor or nurse know. We should be there in five minutes."

  "Yeah." I swallowed, my mouth feeling a bit dry, and licked at my lips. My eyes were heavy and didn't want to focus. "Probably a good thing I didn't get to eat," I muttered.

  I felt the tension on my arm release. "Just let me know if you're going to vomit," the man said.

  "No promises, but I'll try."

  I fell asleep after that. Flashes of the ER and a few faces, which most likely belonged to nurses and doctors, stuck in my memory, but the rest of the night was a blur. It had been the best day of my life and the worst, all rolled into one. It was like the world couldn't decide if it wanted to give me a break or double down on the crap it kept handing out, but at least Jamal was still alive.

  Somehow, I knew he'd make it. Every time I asked, they always answered carefully, making sure not to get my hopes up, but I knew. I'd made a deal with Death: one kiss in exchange for the life of the man who'd been nice to me. Death wouldn't let me down.

  Chapter 2

  Four years later...

  My pencil scratched on the paper, soft and sibilant, quickly producing tiny intricate lines that made up the whole. I rubbed my finger through the graphite, pushing it smooth, then dragged the eraser across it to accent the highlight. It'd happened four years ago, but I could still remember the details so clearly.

  I didn't know a thing about guns, but I could draw that shotgun over and over. Behind it, the man's eyes loomed cold and vacant in the ski mask. In the reflection of the barrel, I began adding details of the hero: the thick cowl, the perfect lips. Working with just a pencil, I couldn't capture the color of his skin, but I knew it. Four years since I'd invented him, and I could still easily recall the exact shade of blue, so pale it had looked almost white under those fluorescent lights.

  "Nice," a man said, dropping into the chair beside me. "Art major?"

  "Yeah." I didn't bother looking up.

  "Didn't realize art students took Calculus." He turned away from me for a moment to accept a stack of papers from the person on his other side, taking one and passing the rest to me.

  I smiled a thanks and looked up, pausing with my hand on the papers. Whoa. The friendly student beside me was hot! Not kinda good looking, but the type of beautiful that made my mouth water. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly took a copy and passed the stack down the row, staring at the tiny words on the page to keep from gawking. Calculus, Math 1810.005, Professor Traland, Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Beneath that was a list of assigned chapters and subjects to be covered over the semester.

  When my face felt a little cooler, I looked at the guy who'd claimed the chair to my left. His long legs were splayed before him, encased in loose jeans that somehow still managed to taunt me with every muscle underneath. He wore a black shirt with some logo. I couldn't make it out without leaning closer, and I wasn't ready to be that obvious. Just glancing at him was bad enough, but that shirt was so tight, the lines of his well-formed chest were easily visible and the sleeves strained across his biceps. I couldn't help but look. Then there was the long, dark hair that fell to the middle of his back, so black it was nearly blue, but without the harsh tone that came with dye. The ear closest to me was lined with rings.

  He looked like he belonged in a death metal band, but it worked for him. Then again, pretty much anything would work for him. Yeah, and I had a fondness for the dangerous type. I couldn't stop my eyes from drinking in his unnatural beauty and, honestly, I didn't want to. When I reached his face, I found warm black eyes looking back, the corner of his lip lifted slightly in amusement. He knew I was checking him out. He had to; men that good-looking were always aware of it.

  "So you just like math or something?" he tried again, amazingly long lashes brushing his cheek when he blinked.

  I realized I'd never answered him the first time. "Oh, no. I'm a biology minor."

  "Art major, bio minor? That's a strange combination."

  I brushed a stray lock of my ginger hair from my cheek, feeling overly self-conscious. "Medical illustration pays decently, and knowledge of anatomy helps with getting it right."

  His eyes followed my hand, then he grinned. "Yeah, um, I think you..." He reached up and rubbed at something on my face. "You're wearing your work."

  "Thanks." I didn't blush this time, but I did smile. I couldn't help it. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite figure out who. I didn't exactly know anyone quite this gorgeous. Not even close.

  He gestured to the sketch I was working on, my small art pad taking up most of the space on my desk. "That's a little dark for someone so vibrant."

  "Huh?"

  "A gun with… I think that's the grim reaper reflected in it?"

  "Oh." I closed the pad and shoved it into my backpack. "It's Death. You know, like from the Dickinson poem?"

  "Dickinson?"

  I nodded. "Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me?"

  He nodded slowly. "The carriage held but ourselves, and immortality. Yeah, that's a pretty good one." He met my eyes. "Why Death?"

  Quick, think of something! "Um, I wanted to play with reflections on a curved surface."

  "So, you went for horror instead of a glass of water?" That almost-crooked smile taunted me like I'd seen it before.

  "Death seems much more interesting." I shrugged, glancing up to the front of the class.

  My new friend chuckled and leaned closer. "I'm not complaining. Just shocked to see a pretty girl drawing such a morbid subject. Nick Voland, by the way."

  "Sienna Parker." I flashed him that nice to meet you smile, surprised to see an honest one returned.

  "Maybe I can get you to hel
p me with Art History." He opened a spiral notebook and flipped to a blank page as the teacher finally walked in. "I ended up in the class for majors, because the others all conflicted with one of my other courses."

  "Tomorrow at nine?" I had to remember to close my mouth.

  "That's the one."

  Completely unbelievable. "Sure. I'm in that one."

  He glanced at me and nodded, but he didn't really look surprised. "I thought all art students got that out of the way first."

  "I'm a freshman."

  His eyes slowly slid over my body like he was considering devouring me. "You look a bit over eighteen."

  Wrenching my gaze away, I forced my face not to blush. Once a day was more than enough, thank you very much. "Yeah. Twenty-four. Um, I kinda took six years off to save up the money. I'm putting myself through school."

  "That's the way to do it. I took a break for a few years, too. Got tired of the same ol' same ol'."

  Before I could reply, the professor spoke up and the class fell silent. There were quite a few of us in the room, making the whiteboard seem a little too small from where I sat. Thankfully, being the first day of class, we didn't cover any material. He spent maybe twenty minutes discussing the textbook, the Professor's style of grading, and how he expected our homework to be completed, then released us thirty minutes earlier than I expected.

  Glancing at my watch to confirm, I looked to Nick. "The first day always like this? My other class let out early, too."

  He nodded. "This your first semester?"

  "Yeah. I'm a college virgin."

  His mouth quirked again. "Well, glad I could help with your first time."

  I laughed at the devious glint in his eye. There was no way this guy was flirting with me. He was way too hot for a girl like me, but that was the only explanation for the fluttery feeling in my belly. Not that I could do much about it, but I'd let my ego revel in this for a bit. Wasn't every day the male version of a supermodel smiled at me like that.

  "Yep, awkward and fumbling," I assured him. "That's me. But at least I'm done early today. Gives me a bit before work."

  "Yeah?" he asked. "Gonna let me buy you a coffee, then? You know, to celebrate your first time and all?"

  He grabbed his bag and stood, waiting for me to do the same. The best part was that he looked like he was in no hurry to rush out of the class.

  "Sure," I agreed. "Caffeine is my weakness. Know a good place?"

  "The best."

  Together, we left the room with Nick leading confidently. That was a good thing, because I didn't really know my way around yet. When we made it to the hall, it became impossible to miss the slavering looks tossed at him by passing girls. He pretended to be oblivious, but I swear every female in the building noticed this guy. I had.

  Guiding me to a door at the side, he held it while I stepped into a stairwell I hadn't known existed. Nick somehow managed to match his long strides to mine.

  Outside, the heat was like an oppressive weight on the world. Typical weather for the south in the fall, but it wasn't really helping me make a good impression. I could already feel my shirt starting to stick to my back. Luckily, Nick didn't seem to notice.

  "The Kharma Kafe is the go-to place for good coffee on campus," he informed me, gesturing where I should go. "It's cheap, it's casual, and it's always open."

  "Nice. Better than Starbucks?"

  He shot me a dirty look. "Oh, yeah. You don't really consider that coffee, do you?"

  "Hey, it's the best we had back home."

  "Where's home?"

  "Middle of nowhere, Oklahoma, most recently."

  He raised an eyebrow. "And Starbucks is the best you could find? Yep, gonna have to teach you about coffee too."

  "Oh, I see. You planning to make this a long-term relationship?" Inside, I was almost begging.

  Nick looked across the street to the eccentric cafe he was leading me toward and licked his lips. "Pretty sure your boyfriend wouldn't appreciate that, but I do need a tutor for Art History."

  I didn't say anything for a few steps. How had he known I was dating someone? I mean, I'd only been seeing Aaron about a week and it wasn't exactly serious. Maybe he was just fishing? A part of me wanted to claim to be single – especially with a man this good looking. I definitely enjoyed the attention, but I wasn't foolish enough to think someone like Nick Voland would be interested in anything resembling serious. He was probably unaware he was even flirting and had some porn-star girlfriend waiting at home.

  "Tutoring I can help with," I assured him.

  "But not the boyfriend, huh?"

  I plastered a smile on my face and looked up at him. "Why, you need one?"

  "Oh!" Nick grinned. "Put in my place already."

  "Well, since you've been stalking me, figured I should start early."

  His lighthearted mood didn't leave. He just took a quick step to reach the door first, holding it open. "Not stalking. Just figured a pretty thing like you wouldn't be single for long."

  "Uh..." I stopped, my mouth hanging open. That wasn't accidental! "Did you just..."

  He lifted his hand. "Just calling it like I see it. Lemme guess, he's also in some really impressive fraternity, huh?"

  "He's not a frat boy." I rolled my eyes then turned to look at the menu.

  "I'm betting Delta Phi." Was that annoyance I heard in his voice?

  I didn't even bother to look at him. This conversation was trying hard to take a nosedive. "So what frat are you in?"

  We reached the counter, giving Nick an excuse not to answer. I ordered a caramel mocha, extra large, then Nick added on a plain latte. Before I could pull my wallet from my backpack, he passed across a credit card, paying for both.

  "You didn't have to do that," I said, still digging.

  His strong hand touched my arm, lightly, halting my search. "I offered."

  That was all it took for me to give in. "Thanks."

  An impish light flickered in his eye. "Just don't let your man kick my ass for it."

  Aaron? Kick Nick's ass? Not in a million years. Aaron was a decent looking guy, but he was at least four inches shorter and a whole lot softer. I shook my head and giggled, trying to envision it.

  "I think you're safe." I was about to say more but got interrupted.

  "Nick!" The voice belonged to a shock of magenta hair and stainless steel shoving its way through the crowd gathering behind us.

  With morning classes over, the coffee shop was filling up quickly. Clearly, this was the place to be. Well, this, and the bar down the street that I called an evening job. Still, this guy stood out. It wasn't just his neon colored hair or abundance of piercings. There was something about the set of his shoulders that begged people to look at him. Almost like a challenge.

  "Hey, Sam," Nick called back, greeting the flamboyant punk. "What's up?"

  Sam looked at his watch. "It's Wednesday. We have that thing in a bit." Then his attention shifted to me. "Hello, beautiful." And back to Nick. "You didn't forget?"

  "No," Nick said, not sounding pleased. "Sienna, Sam, and vice versa." Sam smiled and stepped closer, but Nick put a hand on his chest. "And she's got a boyfriend."

  "You could change that," Sam teased. At a growl from Nick, he held up his hands and backed off. "Or not."

  "My roommate," Nick apologized, turning back to the counter just in time to accept our drinks. "And no frat. Not exactly my thing."

  He passed me the caramel mocha and the three of us moved to find a quieter space in the room. There weren't many, except for a couch in the corner, tucked out of the way. In my opinion, it looked like a wonderful place to hide from the world, but it seemed most students thought it was too secluded. Then again, college was supposed to be about hanging out, meeting people, and finding as many parties as possible. I didn't agree, but that seemed to be the general consensus, from what I'd heard so far.

  "So," Sam said, claiming the chair to leave the couch for Nick and me. "What's a pretty thing like you doing h
anging out with a guy like Nick?"

  "Calculus." I shrugged. "Sounds like we also have Art History together tomorrow."

  Sam nodded slowly, flashing a look at Nick that I couldn't quite read. "I see. What are the chances of that?"

  "Slim to none," Nick said, casually taking a sip of his coffee. Something passed between them but damned if I could follow. "Anyway, we'd better get out of here if we're going to make that meeting." He smiled at me, the curve of his mouth tugging hard at something in the back of my mind. "Hate to caffeinate and run, but I'll see you tomorrow?"

  "Yeah. Nine am."

  The guys shared a look then stood. Sam didn't bother saying goodbye and, seconds later, I was sitting there alone, enjoying what was probably the best coffee I'd ever had, wondering if I'd just blown the chance of a lifetime. Nick really had been flirting with me. Sam too, but I got the impression he'd flirt with a rock if it wouldn't turn him down. Not that many would. He was cute, in his own way, and very aware of it.

  Oddly, Sam seemed like the kind of person I could get along with, and it wasn't like I had a plethora of friends. I'd only lived here for a little over a month. Just enough time to get a job, get a place, and get everything finalized for my first real semester of college. The boyfriend had been a fluke. Until a few minutes ago, I would've said a lucky one.

  Speaking of my boyfriend, I pulled my phone from my bag. First, I checked for messages. Nothing. Aaron had promised to text me his plans for the day, and he knew I'd be out of class by one, but it must've slipped his mind. I sent him one instead, asking if he wanted to do anything before I had to work at four, then leaned back and tried to enjoy my coffee.

  I was nearly done when my phone finally beeped, signaling a response. Swiping at the screen, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Ran into the guys, hanging with them. Will try to stop by the bar later.

  Men! Didn't he realize that when I was working, I couldn't exactly socialize? Probably not. Everything with Aaron was spur of the moment, without a thought to the consequences. I shoved my phone into my bag and sucked back the last of the coffee, throwing it into the trash to vent my frustration. I didn't even feel bad about not sending a response. My love life was such a joke.