We felt fated.
He gazed down at me. “You know what we used to say about girls like you?”
I shook my head.
“You fall in love with your first.”
“Ah.” I bumped my shoulder into his. “Now I see why you pushed so hard to score with me that night by the pool. All becomes clear.”
His expression was serious. “I wanted you. Christ, I wanted you. But for a lot longer than a night. In my mind, if we slept together, we’d stay together. I needed that. I need that now.”
Sometimes it was so apparent that he’d been raised in a different culture, one in which a boy carried a girl’s things to signal possession to other beaux. “What gives you that idea about me?”
“Deny it, then.”
I’d never had a first, much less stayed with him. But if Jack was mine, I thought his theory would prove to be correct.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Made me crazed when I heard your message to Brandon. That you were goan to let him have you.”
Little had I known that Jackson had stolen Brandon’s phone, had listened to my message.
“That was one of the reasons I was so angry when you came to my house that night,” Jack explained. “I figured you were already lost to me, but after what you saw there, I knew you were out of my reach. I didn’t act right.”
“That’s past. I’m here with you now.” I placed my hand on his knee. “Like you said, we can pick up where we left off.”
His body shot tight with tension.
I bit my lip. “Just in case we somehow live past tonight, do you, uh, have protection?”
“Ouais, and it’s from this century,” he teased, referencing our first ill-fated make-out session. “You sure about this? Last time . . .”
I cupped his face. “We could die tonight.”
Jack grinned down at me. “Now, hold on, Evie. You doan have to pull the last-night-on-earth con with me. I’m a sure thing.”
I grinned back. “So am I.”
I loved the flash of disbelief on his face, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he registered this was going to happen.
Every reason I’d held back from having sex before had been eliminated. I was in a relationship with Jack, and I trusted him, so I knew I wouldn’t get nailed and bailed. Before Jack, I’d felt no curiosity about it or passion. Now I could barely wait to take this step. An added bonus: I loved the boy. Which he already knew.
So I daubed my tongue to my bottom lip, and he took the hint.
Light grazes of his mouth over mine turned to deep kissing. Without breaking lip contact, we yanked off our coats, fumbled off our boots, peeled off our wet jeans. He drew back only to grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.
Once he’d removed his own, I gazed at his rosary. It was like Jack’s own emblem, his own symbol. Then I frowned at the tiny details around the cross, spying an engraved rose in the center.
Rosary. Rose-ary. Jack carried a rose as well. Again, that fated feeling swept me up.
When he laid me back, my hands flew to his chest. With utter delight, I began learning that damp skin, those rippling muscles, loving the way they leapt to my touch.
As I explored him, he stared down at me in my underwear, rapt. My glyphs were shimmering across my skin. “Mercy me, Evie.” He leaned in to kiss the one winding across my chest, following it with his lips. “These spooked me before,” he rasped against my skin. “But now I think they’re sexy. Everything about you is sexy.” He gave it a lick that made my toes curl.
“Hey, I-I’m sure you’re just mesmerized.” I wanted the rest of my clothes off, felt confined by damp lace.
“Does it matter if I am? Non, not if I like it,” he said, shucking off his boxers.
I caught a peek at him and gasped, my breaths shallowing.
He was still smiling when he kissed me again. Soon I was so mindless, I scarcely noticed that he’d stripped off my bra—until his warm, rigid chest pressed against my bare breasts. He shuddered at the contact, groaning into our kiss. The weight of his body atop me was divine, welcome. Our hips began rocking, grinding, seeking.
Then his forefingers hooked the edges of my panties. “Up you go, bébé.”
When I lifted my hips, he tugged off the last barrier between us. Well, almost the last. From his jeans pocket, he took a condom pack, tearing the corner with his teeth. As he began rolling it on, I was transfixed. Utter lust.
Seeming unaware of my gawking, he moved between my legs. His outer thighs brushed my inner ones, and then I felt him hard against me. My cheeks heated, my body softening for him.
But as soon as he stretched over me, that pressure in my head increased. —The mortal is not for you!—
I jerked in Jack’s arms.
“What? Too fast?” He raised up above me. “You can tell me to stop if you want, Evie. Anytime you want me to.”
—You cannot know him this way.—
“No, I don’t want to stop. It’s one of the voices. Death’s. It’s like he’s in my head!”
—He’s not for you, creature!— Death repeated.
Why are you doing this to me? Are you such a hard-ass that you won’t allow the girl you plan on murdering some enjoyment in her final days?
—You deserve nothing but misery!—
Jack clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms corded with strain. “I’m goan to kill that son of a bitch, just for this.”
Get in line. How in the hell is this your business?
—Your death is mine, which means your life is mine.—
You’re insane! Never had I heard Death like this. Before, he’d always been smoothly mocking, taunting me with my upcoming demise.
Now his words were seething. —I am owed, Empress! Do this, and you will pay.—
“Evie?”
“I want this, Jack! Kiss me.”
He did, briefly muting the Reaper, rekindling my excitement.
But Death was yelling. —NEVER, CREATURE!—
This place was perfect, a moment in time; it should be just me and Jack. Now Death was ruining it. “It’s no use. He doesn’t want us to do this. And I don’t understand why.”
“Look at me, Evie. Stay with me.”
I gazed up at Jack, peering into his eyes. They were stormy gray, filled with desire, yearning. Even vulnerability. “He doan get a goddamned say, now, does he?”
When Jack held my gaze, Death was quieted, the heavy weight of his presence ebbing. —Sievā, do not do this. . . .—
See-whatta? Then he faded.
Faded to nothing.
“His voice is quiet. This is working!”
“Then I’m goan to be looking into your eyes when I take you. You hear me?”
I nodded, wanting this more than I’d ever imagined I could.
He traced his hand between us, lower, lower, dipping his fingers. “So hot,” he groaned. “So perfect. You want this too.” It wasn’t a question.
He began touching me as I needed him to, petting me. Whatever he was doing made me crazed for more. I rocked my hips to his caressing fingers, lids growing heavy, but I kept my gaze pinned to his.
His hips rocked too, wedging his hardness against me. My eyes went wide when he started to press inside. My glyphs ghosted over me faster.
“Doan be scared, bébé,” he rasped with a brief kiss to my lips. “I’m goan to take care of you.” Staring down into my eyes, he began prodding deeper. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” And deeper. “My God, woman!” When he was all the way in, a strangled groan burst from his chest.
Pain. I just stifled a wince, far from enamored with this.
Voice gone hoarse, he said, “You’re mine now, Evangeline. No one else’s.”
He must be right—because Death’s presence had disappeared completely.
Jack held himself still, murmuring, “Doan hurt, doan hurt.”
“It’s getting better.”
“Ready for more?”
I nodded. Then regretted it. Pain.
Between gritted teeth, he said, “Evie, I got to touch you, got to kiss you. Or you woan like this.” A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead onto my neck, tickling its way down to my collarbone.
“O-okay.”
Still inside me, he raised himself up on his knees, his damp chest flexing. His hands covered me, cupped, kneaded, his thumbs rubbing. When I started arching my back for more, his body moved. And it was . . .
Rapture.
“Jack! Yes!”
In a strained tone, he said, “God almighty—I am home, Evangeline.” Another thrust had me soaring. “Finally found the place . . . I’m supposed to be.”
He leaned down, delivering scorching kisses up my neck and down to my breasts, bringing me closer and closer to a just-out-of-reach peak.
Each time he rocked over me, I sensed a barely harnessed aggression in him. Between panting breaths, I said, “Don’t hold back! You don’t have to with me.” I lightly grazed my nails over his back, spurring him until he was taking me with all his might—growling with need as I moaned.
Pleasure built and built . . . broke free . . . wicked bliss seized me, seized him.
As I cried out uncontrollably, he yelled, “À moi, Evangeline!” Mine.
“Yes, Jack, yes. . . .”
Then after-shudders. A final moan. A last groan.
As his weight sank heavily over me, I ran my hands up and down his back, wanting him to know how much I loved that.
How much I loved him.
He raised himself up on his forearms, cheeks flushed, lids heavy with satisfaction. “I knew it would be like this.” His voice was even more hoarse. “I knew from the first moment I saw you.” Stroking my hair, he started kissing my face, pressing his lips to my jaw, my forehead, the tip of my nose. “I am home, Evie Greene,” he repeated between kisses.
I never wanted him to stop. He’d been an amazing lover, but his afterplay? He was adoring.
“The first priest I find, I’m goan to marry you. I’m all in, peekôn.” His kisses grew more and more heated. Against my lips, he rasped, “How come I can’t ever get enough of you?”
Just as that rush returned and I knew we were about to get another round of this, I heard panting—comprehended that it wasn’t my own. I broke away. “Jack?”
We both turned to find a wolf nosing through the waterfall, its head halfway in. It blinked at us, then howled.
Not a second later, Lark called, “Hey, guys! You in there? I told the others I’d find you. We’re heading out. It won’t be long now.”
Jack rested his forehead against my own. “We’re goan to pick this up later.”
“Even more incentive to live through the night?” To Lark, I called, “Be right there.”
With one last lingering kiss, Jack helped me to my feet, collecting our clothes. As we dressed, I caught him grinning at me, knew I was giving him goofy smiles. I’d played my V card, and had zero regrets.
Hand in hand, I walked with Jack up to our pre-planned vantage point. Death’s presence was a memory. Good riddance. . . .
Jack squeezed my hand and gazed down at me. “À moi, Evangeline.”
I promised him: “Always.”
15
“So three Bagmen and a slaver go into a bar . . .” Finn began as the wails grew closer.
We were lying in wait on a cliff high above the chute. And we were invisible.
Selena whipped her head around, hissing, “Are you serious, Magician? They’re almost here.”
The horde was like one giant, wailing beast scrabbling up the mountain. Though the night was dark, we could see their creamy, pale eyes as if they glowed.
Selena and Jack aimed their bows. Matthew and Jack lay on either side of me, Finn beside Lark. She was spaced out, monitoring the approach of the cannibals through her falcon.
Her wolves crouched behind Finn’s illusion, ready to attack the horde from behind.
“What?” Finn whispered. “Just because we’re about to be swarmed by bloodthirsty zombies doesn’t mean we can’t have a laugh.”
Matthew made a eureka! hand gesture. “Zomedy!”
“Damn straight, Matto.” Finn always seemed a little surprised by how much he liked the boy.
I’d wanted to ask Matthew about my latest interaction with Death, but he’d seemed preoccupied before. Now it was too late.
When the horde began funneling into the chute like a rolling wave, doubt over my plan racked me. What if this didn’t work? Our sole escape hatch was that booby-trapped canyon. If the cannibals prevailed and pursued, we’d have to hit it faster than we’d ever imagined, at night, in the pouring rain. . . .
The bad part about having ideas that people listened to? The responsibility.