Cinder X (Death Collectors, #2) (18 page)

His arms snap out and he grasps onto my wrists, forcing me to sit back down. “Please, listen to me before you try to bolt,” he says, a silent plea in his tone. I debate what to do, but ultimately let him pull me back down to the bed. He lets out a relieved breath the moment I sink down beside him and his hold on me loosens, but his hands remain on my wrists. “I was there at the bowling alley, trying to help you,” he starts to explain. “I’ve actually been watching you since I left, despite the fact that I was banned against doing so.” He looks a little guilty as his fingers leave my wrists and he turns his back to me. “I couldn’t help it,” he says passionately. “Not knowing where you were—or what was happening to you—it was driving me crazy.” He shakes his head at himself. “And then I saw you in the bowling alley with the Anamotti. And Alton. I couldn’t just stand by and watch them set you up for murder, to have you go to jail, or let them push your sanity even further.” He rotates back around and scoots towards me, passion pouring off him as his gaze devours me. I can’t help but think about when I read that Angels of Death are passionate in battle. “I had to stop them. I couldn’t let them frame you with Raven’s murder and all the other murders that have happened.”

“That’s what they were doing? They were going to kill Raven and frame me for it?”
Goddammit, Cameron
. “Wait, did Cameron know about this?”

“I have no idea what Cameron knows or what his brilliant plan was by bringing you there, but he’s proved once again what side he’s on,” he says, his low tone nearing a growl as he turns back around to face me.

I don’t entirely agree with him. Going to the bowling alley helped me discover that the mayor is also the leader of the Anamotti, however now is not the time to point that out. “You act like he could be on a different side than the Reapers,” I say.

“No, but I’d like to believe that despite his Reaper blood, he still has a bit of emotion left in him, enough that he wouldn’t sacrifice your safety.”

“Why would he have emotion in him at all when he’s death?” I pause, recollecting the few times Cameron and Asher have crossed paths. “You know, you two have acted like you’ve known each other from the beginning.”

“We’ve known each other for far too long,” he says dryly, staring down at the floor.

“How so?” I ask. “I mean, how can Reapers and Angels know each other when they work for opposing sides?”

“We’re not necessarily on opposing sides,” he mutters and then sighs, closing his eyes. “And after being around for centuries, it’s hard not to get acquainted with your enemies.”

My head starts to pound at something he’s said, something that scares the shit out of me. I massage my temples with my fingertips, forcing air in and out of my lungs. “Wait, how old are you?”

It takes him a moment to answer, and when he does speak again, his voice is barely audible. “I’ve been around long enough to see five centuries pass by.”

“Jesus,” I murmur, lowering my hands. “You were alive when Edgar Allan Poe was.” There’s brief silence and then suddenly Asher snorts a laugh. I look up at him, stunned by his humor. “What’s so funny?” I ask.

Wrinkles crinkle around his eyes as he tries to stop laughing, his mouth concealed by his hand. “I’m sorry, but only you would make that first observation.” His laughter dies down a little.

I press my lips together. “This isn’t funny,” I say, but laughter tickles the back of my throat. Call it insanity, but I do find it amusing. “I mean, I just found out you’re really old.”

He starts laughing even harder and eventually my laughter slips through and I join him. Nothing we’ve been talking about is humorous, yet honestly, I don’t want it to stop. Call it madness. Call it too much darkness and death in my life. Call it whatever you want, but it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed, and if I had my way, I’d keep doing it forever.

“I’m sorry,” he says after our laughter settles down. “It’s just that I can’t help but think about the first time I met you and how I could see in your eyes that you have an obsession with Edgar Allan Poe.”

I wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes with the bottom of my shirt. “I’m not obsessed,” I insist, “I just admire his poetry.”

He looks over at the picture of Poe on my wall and elevates his eyebrows in speculation. “Oh, really? Because I completely disagree.”

I stifle a smile, playfully pinching him on the arm. “Quit distracting me from the fact that you’re so old. Like creepy old.”

He redirects his focus on me and observes me momentarily before he scoots close enough that our knees touch and his heat spirals through my body. My stomach flutters with nerves and want. “I might be old in numbers, but not in the way I look,” he says, leaning in, wetting his lips with his tongue.

I catch the silver glint of his tongue ring and my body reacts inappropriately; shivers and tingles dancing up and down my thighs. I squeeze my legs together as I scan over his lean arms, his sturdy chest, and his near ageless eyes. “Yeah, I know, but still…” I alter my weight as I sigh, bending inward to get closer to him. “It’s just a little startling, but I guess I should have known.”

He quickly shakes his head. “No, you shouldn’t have, especially when no one can, or will, give you the full truth.”

I frown. “Like you?”

He offers me an apologetic look, but doesn’t say anything as he gazes off into empty space. I wonder what he’s thinking about. What he’s lied about. I wonder how many things between us are real and how many are fake.

“You never did tell me how you were watching me,” I say quietly. “I never saw you anywhere. Well, except for feathers. I’ve been seeing a lot of feathers lately.”

The sadness in his expression deepens as he absentmindedly reaches around and grazes his fingers across the back of his plaid shirt. “I was in the shadows,” he whispers without looking at me.

Shadows
. I remember reading about those in the book that was stolen, but… “You were in the shadow realm?”
Please say it’s not true.

His attention whips to me. “Where did you learn about the shadow realm?”

“From a book.” I glance at the antique chest where the book Elliot gave me is. “A book that a… I think a shadow stole from me a couple of weeks ago.”

“A shadow was in here?” He swiftly scans the room, his muscles going rigid as if he senses something dangerous. “In your room?”

“Yeah, it took my book about Grim Angels, the one Raven gave to me around Halloween and the only one that’s ever given me any useful information,” I say and then open my mouth to tell him that I have it again, but I stop myself, not ready to tell him yet until he tells me why he was in the shadow realm. Or better yet, how?

“Someone’s been watching you,” he mutters then abruptly rises to his feet and starts to pace in front of the bed, mumbling incoherently under his breath.

I watch him pace back and forth as my brain slowly processes what he’s just told me. “You said you were in the shadow realm.” I slide to the edge of the bed and lower my feet over the edge to the floor. “But from what I understand, the shadow realm is for Reapers.”

He stops in the center of my room, his eyes fixed on the floor. “It is.” His voice trembles as he battles to control his emotions.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe, gripping onto the edge of the bed. “Cameron was telling the truth. Your father’s a Reaper.” Shit. I need to run. Get out of here, away from him as fast as I can.

The need to run only amplifies when he doesn’t deny my accusations, looking miserable and embarrassed amongst other things. I’m not sure what to do. I probably wouldn’t get very far if I ran and he tried to chase me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I dare to ask.
How hard would it be to get to the door?

“For a lot of reasons,” he says, carrying my gaze but with nervousness. “And even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn’t. I wasn’t even supposed to get this involved with you to begin with.”

“How is it even possible?” I ask, stunned beyond comprehension. “How can your father be a Reaper, yet you’re an angel… or are you a Grim Angel?” My eyes widen. “Oh, my God, are you a Reaper?”

He promptly shakes his head and then slides to the floor on his knees, kneeling in front of me. He then places his hands on top of my thighs, there’s a slight tremble in his fingers. “Ember, please relax. I’m just an ordinary Angel of Death, just like I told you I was. You’ve even seen my wings.” He’s panicking, looking so raw and emotional right now that, if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he was human. If I wasn’t worried he was working with the Reapers, I’d have paused the moment and tried to capture it with words—write them on the wall—so this moment would be recorded forever.

I move my legs out from under his hands, pull my knees to my chest, and hug my arms around them. “I may have seen your wings, but it doesn’t mean I believe that they were real… nothing seems real anymore. Everybody—you, the Reapers, the Anamotti, Cameron—are all throwing stuff at me, and I can barely sort through it all.” I shut my eyes and inhale, sucking back the tears stinging at them. “And you keep telling me you can’t tell me things because it’s against the rules, yet you’ve told me enough that it seems that, if there were really rules—or if you were telling the truth—you’d be in trouble.”

Silence overlaps the sound of my breathing while my heart pounds in my chest. Asher was the only person I’d ever felt comfortable around. I let him feel every inch of me. Kiss me. I gave him my virginity. It feels like my heart’s breaking right now. I think I might have thought I loved him once, but maybe Cameron was right. How could I love him when I didn’t know his flaws; when I barely knew him? I was simply naïve.

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” he says softly. I feel him shift closer to me. “But I want to hold you while I do.”

When I open my eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils are so massive only a ring of silver remains in his eyes. “I’m not sure I can let you do that. I… You lied to me, or at least omitted the truth. I trusted you, but now I’m not so sure I can.”

“I know I lied. I messed up.” He looks remorseful as he climbs on the bed beside me, keeping enough distance that I don’t feel threatened, although he’s still close enough that I nearly drown in his body heat. “And I hated not telling you things, but trust me when I say I couldn’t tell you at the time.”

“But now you can?” I ask, warily. “What’s changed?”

Sadness floods his eyes again. “Because things are different now.”

“What’s so different now than it was a few weeks ago in the cemetery when you told me I had to figure out stuff on my own?”

He diffidently extends his arm towards me, afraid I’ll bolt if he moves too fast. And I want to bolt, but I can’t bring myself to. So I let him put his arm around me and lure me onto his lap. Then I rotate my body so I’m facing him and then slide a leg over him to straddle his lap.

He never takes his eyes off me as I get situated and then hook my arms around the back of his neck to hold onto something because it feels like whatever he tells me next might knock me down.

“I missed touching you,” I divulge truthfully, wanting just one moment to enjoy this moment; one beat of my heart, one breath. Before everything breaks apart because I know it’s going to.

The corners of his lips quirk to a sad smile. “I missed touching you, too.”

When he doesn’t begin explaining things right away, I say, “Please tell me you’re not a Reaper before I go mad.”

His arms circle my waist and he presses on my lower back, pushing me closer to him until the front of our bodies are perfectly aligned. “I’m not a Reaper. I promise. But I was faced with a choice once that had to do with my Reaper blood,” he explains. “I had to decide whether I wanted to be part of the good or the evil.” He slants his head forward and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he rests his forehead against mine. Then he shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply.