Cinder X (Death Collectors, #2) (17 page)

“Is it really you?” I ask, watching his reaction closely. “Or is Cameron messing with my mind? Because it’s not funny if that’s what this is.”

Anger smolders in his eyes. “Cameron. I thought he was gone?”

I slowly shake my head, astonished by his anger. “He was, but he came back the other night… although I think he’s been haunting my thoughts for longer than that.”

His fists clench on his lap and his arms tremble with his rage as his arm muscles ripple. “I should have known. He has a knack for never giving up. For always being around and trying to get what he wants, no matter what it takes.” He huffs exasperatedly then his expression vaguely softens as he reaches for me again. He cups my cheek, his warmth spilling through me and heating the chill I didn’t know had been residing inside me until now. “I promise it’s me and not him.” He releases an unsteady exhale as his thumb caresses my skin. “God, I forgot how beautiful you are. I’ve missed you so much.”

It’s him. It has to be. There’s no way Cameron or even one of the Anamotti could fake the passion in his voice or the honesty in his eyes. I leap from the bed and onto his lap, unable to control the amount of emotion bursting inside me as I throw my arms around his neck. I feel the silence of his touch as I bury my face against his solid chest and his arms wrap around me tightly, embracing me, pulling me closer to him. His chest crashes against my cheek with every breath he takes and his pulse is hammering in his chest.

“What’s wrong? Why is your heart racing?” I start to pull away to look at him, but he only constricts his hold.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He kisses my forehead and nuzzles his face into my hair, taking ragged breaths. “Not now anyway.”

I let him devour my cheeks and forehead with kisses, afraid to move and break the silent connection between us. Plus, he seems to be struggling with his emotions, as though he’s overwhelmed by them, unable to keep what he’s feeling trapped inside. I’m falling to that place, too; wanting to cry over the sheer fact that he’s here and I’m no longer entirely surrounded by evil. I restrain the tears, however, because I know they’ll make me think about how I cried just hours ago when Cameron wiped and kissed them away from me. Still, the thought seeps in and I feel a pang in my gut.

Guilt

A plague

It eats away

At my rotting insides

The more I fight

The more it feasts

I choke back my emotions, glad Asher doesn’t notice, glad he’s here holding onto me and no one else. Eventually his arms loosen around me, and he leans back to look me in the eyes, resting his hands on my waist. “Sorry, I got a little emotional there for a moment.”

“That’s okay. I’ve missed your touch,” I tell him, my voice shaky. “Even though I love that you’re here and happy to see me, I’m wondering
how
you’re here. I thought you had to go away… that you broke too many rules and were being punished.”

“I was being punished.” He places a hand on my cheek again and I melt into his touch, letting his warmth consume me; the contact fills all the voids that formed over the last few weeks. “But protecting you is more important than anything else.”

“Protect me from what? Cameron?” I ask with a frown. “Or the Anamotti?”

“You’ve said Cameron’s name a lot in the last few minutes.” The anger in his eyes resurfaces. “Has he been around a lot?”

I sigh and tell him the whole story, hating to admit what happened; that I was weak enough to mess up and allow Cameron to have access into my head. With each detail I give him, I feel more disappointed in myself, yet I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. Asher is here to talk to, and even though I can’t tell if I’m upsetting him, I love that he’s here. That I’m not alone in this madness. That I have someone here who I can confide in, touch, and kiss. Someone who doesn’t drive me crazy and who doesn’t constantly remind me of death.

When I finish explaining to him what’s happened over the last few weeks, Asher stares at me for a lengthy amount of time, his face contorted with pain and confusion. I think he’s going to yell at me or chew me out. Get angry about everything I’ve done since he left; how much I’ve screwed up.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “For everything I’ve done while you’re gone. For messing up so badly.”

He shakes his head, the pain subsiding. “Ember, I’m not mad at you.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and turns forward in the bed, his jaw set tight. “If anything, I’m angry with Cameron.” He contemplates something before he looks at me again. “After you took some of his life…” It’s difficult for him to speak, so he reaches for me, gripping my sides securely. Then his hands stray to my hips and his fingers jab down into my skin, firm but not rough, and my skin blissfully scorches from his touch. “Did something happen to you?” he asks. “When you took some of Cameron’s life?”

The lines on my skin start to itch so I pull off one of my gloves, showing him. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought I had to in order to save the guy I stabbed. Although, honestly, I’m surprised Cameron has any life in him. I thought maybe he didn’t.”

“He doesn’t.” Asher removes one of his hands from my hips and winces as he traces the vine-like lines on my arm. “Which is why these lines appeared. Instead of feeding yourself life, you were taking life in the form of death. If you would have gone for too long… done it too much…” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “You would have drained all the angel blood out of you.”

“
What
?” I choke, panicking, thinking about my brother and the numbness, the emptiness he’s carrying. “Then I’d just be a Reaper?”

He withdraws his hand from the lines and then his arm wraps around my side, pulling me closer to him on the bed. “Life is the Angel side of you and Reaper is death within you. You were filling your body with death, and therefore, eliminating the Angel blood inside you. That’s why he was able to talk to you through your thoughts and completely take over your body when he hasn’t been able to before. Yes, he’s been able to render you helpless, but that was through the faint connection you have to the Reapers.” Our gazes fasten. “But by filling your body with more death—his death—it gave him total control.”

“Oh, my God.” The last thing I want is to turn into death; into a Reaper.
Or do you?
My inner voice belongs to me this time and it sends a chill down my back as I briefly welcome the idea of walking around in a cloak, taking souls, devouring innocent lives. It’s a thought that has been plaguing me for days and only seems to be amplifying with time. I could try to keep blaming it on Cameron, but deep down, I know part of it belongs to me and I can’t help wondering if I’m getting close to giving in to the dark side.

I blink the disturbing thought from my head and focus on Asher; his beautiful face and eyes that I could write about for hours. “So if I feed off a Reaper’s life for too long, then I’ll become one? Forever. I won’t be a Grim Angel anymore?” Jesus, I’ve already done it twice. How much of an effect has it had on me already?

He nods, releasing me, and then brings his leg up on the bed between us, his foot wiggling restlessly. “Yes, if you drink too much and do it too many times then it’d eventually drained of all your Angel’s blood, then Cameron would get exactly what he wants. He’d have the Reaper version of you.”

“God, I’m so stupid… for a brief second, I thought he was trying to help me,” I mutter, disgusted with myself for touching him like that, for talking to him, for letting him kiss my tears away, for thinking he was trying to help me. “He pretended like he knew stuff about my dad. God, what was I thinking giving into him like that, letting him convince me to take his life—death—like that?”

“You’re not stupid,” he insists, taking my hand in his and tangling our fingers. “Despite your Angel and Reaper blood, you’re still a human who feels things and Cameron knew that threatening you with the life of that guy would break you down emotionally.” He brings my hand to his mouth and grazes his lips across them. “None of this is your fault.”

“And what about the second time?” I disagree with him, ashamed of what I’ve done. “He didn’t threaten me with anything.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the fact that he took over your body and stuff happened,” Asher says with an underlying hint of pain in his voice. He’s trying to shrug this off, although I can tell it’s sort of bothering him.

“Still, I never should have trusted him to begin with,” I tell him. “And let him get my hopes up that he’d help me find out about my dad.” I shake my head at myself, wondering if that was a lie, too. If Cameron really doesn’t know a damn thing about my dad; if he ever did, even back when he told me my dad was going to die. “I let him in and I shouldn’t have, especially when so much has been going on in the town. I should have been more careful. Protected myself more instead of throwing myself into his will and letting him walk me into an Anamotti pit.”

“It’s not your fault, and besides…” Asher deeply considers something, distractedly running his pierced tongue along his teeth, which is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. “Do you remember that story I told you? The one about the tattoo on my side?”

“Sort of.” Unable to help myself, I slip my free hand up the front of his shirt and trace my fingers along the cursive font, feeling him shudder beneath my touch. “It is about the last Grim Angel standing and how she will have to make a choice between good and evil.”

He stares down at my hand beneath his shirt with confliction as he recites the story tattooed beneath where my hand rests. “Blackness caped the land and possessed the bodies of the mortals. Fire erupted over the fields and famine possessed the oceans. The wrath of Death was winning and the Angels of Death suffered. It was the end, but a single sacrifice reversed it all. One beautiful Grim Angel with death in her blood and on her shoulders connected them all, and with a single choice, she would save the world. But the fight would not be easy. Death would play with her mind and her life. Angels would do everything they could to protect her. She would struggle with right and wrong and mess up along the way, but in the end, she would have to make the right choice; otherwise, Death would win then humans and Angels would endure an eternity of suffering.” When he glances up at me, the amount of emotion his eyes carry causes me to gasp. “Sometimes you’ll mess up, but I know that, in the end, you’ll do the right thing.”

“I thought the story was about the last Grim Angel standing?”

“It is.”

“But then, you’re saying I’m the last Grim Angel standing?”

“No, I’m saying I believe you’re
going
to be the last Grim Angel standing.”

“Why?” I croak, my voice faint and weak as I remove my hand from beneath his shirt and rest it on my lap.

He swallows hard. “For a lot of reasons, one being that you were born in Hollows Grove, along with your entire family, at least as far back as I can trace. You’re roots started here.”

“But a lot of Grim Angels were… because this is where it all started, right?” I point out. “My dad was one of them and my brother, so how do you know for sure that I’ll be the last one when there could be a ton more here.”

He hesitates, considering what I said. “Do you remember what Alton told you about the battle? How it started here? And how the beginning of Grim Angels started here?”

“Did I mention that Alton said that to me?” I ask, perplexed. “I don’t remember mentioning that to you.”

He deliberately shakes his head. “You didn’t.”

My confusion magnifies. “Then how do you know he told me about the battle?”

“Because…” He seems nervous, chewing on his lip. “I was there and I could also see it in his eyes when he was talking to you that he thinks you’re going to be the last Grim Angel standing—could see how deep your Grim Angel bloodlines go—which is why they’re centering so much energy on you.”

“Yeah, but… Wait a minute…” I trail off, starting to retreat away from him as I back up on the bed, preparing to jump up and run. “You say you were there, but the only thing I saw was the Anamotti.”