Bittersweet Seraphim (38 page)

Chapter 43

Emma put on her third outfit. She was trying way too hard. And why? She had just two more days home before she, Shannon, and Karen headed back to the city. Maybe she should just forget all this. Life was not supposed to be spent having horrible nightmares about some fantasy.

After opening presents with extended family, she’d napped for an hour on the couch while her parents watched the Yule log burn. When she woke up screaming in a cold sweat, they were understandably alarmed. Her father didn’t like the rash of bad dreams she’d been having, and he’d wondered aloud if she was having an allergic reaction to something. After assuring them she was fine, Emma took a long shower. The only thing her body was allergic to was not being around Jack. She could never forget all this.

She brushed her hair one more time and hoped her outfit was okay. She’d settled on her favorite jeans and a long-sleeve top. Jack was a low-fuss kind of guy.
How do I know that? I shouldn’t.

Emma spritzed on her favorite perfume, which smelled like cotton candy and cake. It felt very high school to get picked up at her parents’ house for a date, but her dad had seemed pleased to get the opportunity to intimidate a suitor.

A loud motorcycle pulled into the driveway.
Crap.
Her dad was
not
going to be thrilled to have his daughter ride off on the back of a bike. She heard the doorbell and forced herself to stay in her room so Jack could face the awkwardness on his own for a minute. She smiled—couldn’t even stop herself—when Jack’s grumbly voice drifted up the stairs.

“Emma! Your date is here!” Her mother was obviously doing her best to put Jack out of his misery.

Emma had to hold the handrail to steady herself. His brown eyes were waiting for her, and he nodded as she began her descent.

Her dad handed Jack back his driver’s license. “Ever been in an accident, son?”

Emma winced. Jack surprised her by answering politely and with respect. “No, sir. I’ve been on two wheels more than I’ve been on my feet. I tried to rent a car for the evening, but Hew’s was all out. I promise to drive with extreme caution.” He slid his license into a money clip.

He’d dressed up a bit. His jeans looked fancier coupled with a tucked-in white button down. He still wore layers of necklaces and his leather cuff, but his hair was pulled back.

Her mother whispered in her ear before pushing on her lower back. “Woof.”

Emma’s heart felt like a rabbit’s from sheer nervous energy. She went to the closet and selected her fancy jacket.

Jack clucked his tongue, and she looked at him.

“Sorry, darlin’. It’s a little cold tonight. Have anything warmer?”

Emma pulled out her riding jacket, which was thin but really warm. Jack motioned for it and held it out to her. He wasn’t smooth at all, which made her laugh.

She turned and mumbled, “First time being a gentleman?”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes for her benefit. After a few more threats from her father and an exuberant goodbye from her mom, they were out the door. Jack grabbed a helmet and forced it on her head.

“Whose helmet is this?” she asked before he could slap down the face shield.

He seemed embarrassed. “I have an extra.”

“For girls. I get it.” She fixed her purse to be secure across her body.

Jack zipped his jacket and straddled the bike. “Get on.”

Emma settled behind him, and the seat forced her close to his back. Having him between her thighs made her moan, just a little.

“Don’t. Don’t make that noise or I won’t be able to drive.” His voice was muffled by the helmet.

Emma gave him her loudest moans and pretended to thrash around behind him.

“You’re a wise ass.” He started the bike, and it was freaking loud and vibrated. “Hang on.”

She slid her arms around his waist and pulled in closer as he accelerated. The ease with which he commanded the bike was ridiculously hot. She watched as the dusk settled around them. He was right—it was chilly. She scrunched down to stay out of the wind.

When they pulled up to house instead of a restaurant, she knocked on his helmet like it was a door.

He pulled off his helmet, looking supremely annoyed. “What the Hell?”

She tried to take off her helmet and failed. Then she tried to lift the face shield and failed again. She pouted at him through the acrylic. “I’m trapped!”

He laughed at her, and it was like a massage. God, his laughter touched every part of her body.

He helped her get the helmet off and his fingers traced her throat. He nodded toward the house. “I felt like we couldn’t talk at a restaurant because of, you know, discussing dragons and stuff, so I’ll make you dinner here.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“What? I can cook. If you’re not comfortable—”

Emma got off the bike and headed for the door as he rushed to put the bike in a more permanent position. It was kind of a sweet little house. The bushes and grass were dormant for winter, but they were trimmed and neat. Jack unlocked the door and stepped in to hold it for her as he flipped on the lights. His place seemed freshly cleaned.

“Did you do some panic cleaning in here?” She unzipped her jacket, and he draped it on the couch.

“You have no idea,” he confessed. “I busted my ass like freak today.”

He took off his leather jacket and set it next to hers. Then he lit a few candles and put on some music. Emma tried to make a smart remark, but she couldn’t help smiling at the thought of him bustling around. The kitchen smelled fantastic, and he set a pot of water on to boil.

He poured her a gorgeous, ruby red glass of wine and held it out. His high cheekbones and sharp jaw were captivating. They locked eyes, and she reached for the glass, but took a knee instead. It was a flash again. She and Jack in a smoky bar. Emma felt illegal and happy. She wasn’t afraid
of
him in this daydream, but
for
him. He was bare-chested with her name written on his skin. “Goddamn it. Angel cake dipped in wine. Girl, you will kill me.” He was kissing her so deeply…

She opened her eyes and saw the same face, except he was worried instead of lusty in the real world.

“Again? Was I there?” he asked.

She was in his arms, his white shirt covered in red wine. He must have splashed it all over himself trying to catch her. She nodded and tears came to her eyes. “What’s going on? This isn’t normal.”

“Where were we?” Jack pulled her even closer.

“A smoky bar? You had a tattoo of my name. I was happy.” She tried to sit up, give herself some space from his face.

“It was a pause. We were there illegally.”

Emma was shocked. “You know?”

He nodded.

“You know why we’re having similar dreams? Why I’m falling all over the place?” She pulled away from him. “Tell me. Tell me right now.” Instead of a date, this night seemed to be tinged with horror.

“I can’t. You need to remember on your own. I don’t want you overloaded with information.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“Stop, Jack whatever-your-last-name-is. Tell me right now or I’m leaving.” She pointed at him and snarled.

“I drove you here.” He tried to lighten the mood with his words, but his eyes showed only concern.

She felt like she was choking.

“Just after I left you, I remembered everything,” he told her. “Damn near killed myself on my bike.” He watched her.

His words burst a dam in her.

He must’ve thought she was going down for the count because he quickly grabbed her up. She had her head against his chest, listening to his regular, soothing heartbeat as it all came back to her: her first life, Feisty, Everett, and dying in the fire. And then she was an angel. God was her friend, and Everett was evil. Jason…Seriana, Dean. And Jack, dear heavens, Jack. When she’d died again as an angel, her last thought had been of him. She opened her eyes with a gasp.

“I love you.”

He had tears running a path down his face. He nodded. “Back at ya, pretty child. So, so much.”

“This…This…” She couldn’t make her words make sense, but he understood. She was frantic for his mouth. He kissed her for what must have been hours, their tears mingling and interspersed with hugs as they sobbed together.

Life. They had life.

Seeing Emma remember was a tidal wave of emotion—relief, ecstasy, amazement. Jack had hoped, of course, but he wasn’t positive she would come around. Then he’d fretted that she wasn’t meant to think about her previous lives.

He’d cleaned like a hopped-up mom and cooked to let off steam. Not running to her the instant he knew had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He was panicked, horrified at the thought she might be in danger. But she was in his arms now, safe and not cringing at the fact that he’d been the Devil.

Emma yanked off his shirt, buttons flying. “Don’t want this, looks like blood. Are you okay?”

She stopped assaulting him to hold his face. She was so…
present
in her eyes. His Emma. Not just a body that looked the same, but her light, her courage—it was all there.

“Yeah. I was…not sure if me being the Devil would be a thing now.” He looked from her mouth to her eyes.

“I think I was the Devil last, right? So how do you feel about that? No.
This
is our reward from God. Don’t you see what He did? We get to start from scratch! I was wondering how it’d work—if we’d be in Heaven, on Earth, what would be next. And here’s our answer.” She finally got his shirt off completely and hugged him again.

They were tossing around on his kitchen floor. She deserved a bed, a nap, worship. He stood and pulled her to her feet. “See, I thought it might be more of a punishment because as humans we eventually—”

“Die? I’ve done that a bunch. We’ll be okay if we just love each other.”

“A human life isn’t enough time.” He already felt rushed about the minutes they were wasting.

“Oh, hey,” she said, smiling brightly. “We can probably have kids. Can you imagine?” She pulled him closer and kissed his whole face.

He smiled through her affection. “We can do whatever you want.”

“It’s you.” She started to cry again.

The lump in his throat made his voice faulty. “It’s you.”

He lifted her off her feet and had every intention of taking her to his bedroom when he remembered the stove was on. Now it all mattered. Keeping her safe was everything. No accidents, no fires, no nothing. He could already feel himself getting paranoid.

He nuzzled her neck. “Can you turn those off?”

She reached down and twisted the burner’s knobs. “Damn, this smells good.”

“You want to eat?” he asked. She’d need health care and food and retirement. The desire to provide for her welled up in him. She should want for nothing.

“Not until after.” She traced his lips with her fingers.

“After?” Jack glanced at the door to make sure it was locked. It was. He carried her up the stairs, remembering their time in the pause, in the sunshine. He’d been stronger then, but he still managed to get her on to his bed now.

She was already shimmying out of her jeans, and his mind shut down at the sight of her panties. She was so ready for him. He crawled onto the mattress, and theirs was a wickedly paced—as if they were racing against time—love making session. He hit the right spots, and her moans put him over too fast. He was embarrassed immediately.

Emma pulled him to her naked chest and laughed. “I think we rushed.”

“I’m so sorry. That was supposed to be epic. Kill me.” Jack kissed her soft skin, hiding the blush he knew was forming.

“No, thank you. I was totally afraid something bad would happen before we could—like a meteor tearing through the house.” She pulled the tie out of his hair, and it all fell across her pale skin.

“I will do that again properly. I’m just…yeah.”

She didn’t seem to care. “My love, I’d volunteer to live a thousand lives if I got to spend any part of them with you.” She buried her face in the bedding, and her short inhales told him she was crying.