Grave Memory: An Alex Craft Novel (43 page)

Briar’s voice was sharp, annoyed. “With one of the officials on the case dead, the other in ICU, and the OMIH office closed, finding the answer to that question isn’t exactly easy.”

“But if it is out there…” I trailed off. If the OMIH had failed to contain it, someone else was slated to die. Either by suicide, or, if the rider hung out in the body until he drained it, by turning into a ghoul.

“Yeah, and chances are good that it’s contained. Either way, what are you planning to do at this hour? It’s late, Craft, and I have more cemeteries to clear. Now, are you going to join me to do your little ghoul-divining trick or not?”

The air chilled as Death’s magic filled my apartment. “Briar, I have to go.”

“Craft—”

I hit the
END
button before she had a chance to say anything else. She was right. There was nothing more I could do to search for the rider—if I even needed to—tonight.

I studied Death. “Well, you don’t look like you’ve been in a fistfight. That or you won with no contest.”

He gave me a startled look and then glanced over his shoulder. I wasn’t sure if he was checking to see if I was talking to someone else or he was thinking about what had happened in the ten or so minutes he was gone. Then he shrugged. “There was no violence. We simply disagreed.”

Right.
“Should we expect any more surprise visits?”

“No.” The word was flat, emotionless, and when he didn’t offer to expand on the answer, I didn’t press him.

“So…” I shoved my hands in my back pockets to keep from fidgeting and studied my boots. I was not looking forward to what was bound to come next—namely pain and possibly a seizure. But it had to be done. “I guess we should get this whole essence switching thing over with.”

“What if we didn’t switch back?”

My head jerked up. “What?”

“What if I remained mortal?” He moved closer, filling my space. “No more vanishing.”

My chest tightened at the idea, part fear, part excitement. The prospect of him not up and vanishing on me—it had appeal. But the gray man was right. Death wasn’t meant to be mortal.

I shook my head, backing up until my back hit the counter. “It’s too dangerous.”

He followed me. “I’ll be careful.”

“No, it’s my mortality. You be safe and I’ll be careful.”

“You haven’t done a good job of that so far.”

Okay, he had a point. I should have died more than once this week, but that didn’t mean I agreed. “What if you have to collect the soul of someone in a burning building? Or your soul is the victim of a drive-by and a bullet hits you? I bet you can’t see possible time branches for yourself. What if something happened to you?”

He brushed a curl behind my ear. Then his hand lingered, his finger trailing down my chin. My skin tingled with the light touch and I swallowed as he traced the curve of my neck.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s not going to work.” My whisper didn’t hide the fact my voice shook.

The smile that curved Death’s lips was full of the knowledge of exactly what reaction his touch woke in me. It was an intimate smile, full of promise and want, but there were emotions other than heat in his hazel eyes. Something was off. Something I couldn’t quite read but the twist in my gut hinted I wouldn’t like.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“The mender, as you call him, gave me a choice,” Death said, and his finger reached the dip above my collarbone. I shivered and he paused long enough to watch my reaction. Then his fingers fanned out, and he placed his palm over my racing heart.

I grabbed his hand. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.” I intertwined my fingers with his. “Now what choice?”

“As long as you are not mortal, there’s no taboo against us being together.”

I was glad I’d moved his hand because my heart knocked hard against my rib cage, though I couldn’t tell if from excitement or my heart was making a run for it. Neither of us said anything as I let the implications of that statement sink in. If he remained mortal, there was nothing standing between us. But he’d be vulnerable.

There was still something he wasn’t telling me. Something important.

“A choice implies options. What happens if you choose not to remain mortal?”

Death’s hand closed tight around mine. “Then he will take away my ability to exchange my essence. I’ll never be able to become mortal, or make you immortal, again.”

Which meant no more mending for me. Well, I’d cheated dying more than my fair share already. If I understood everything Death had told me, that meant time had changed in ways it wasn’t meant to. There had to be consequences for that.

“Alex, if we switch back, the shock as mortality takes hold could kill you.” He released my hand and drew me into
a tight embrace. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered into my hair.

I leaned into him. So I could let him take the risk of being mortal or gamble whether or not switching back would kill me?

“It’s not safe for you to stay like this,” I said, but my voice sounded dull, hollow. It wasn’t exactly fear, not yet. I hadn’t enjoyed my return to mortality the first time we’d done this. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it now, but I also didn’t want Death in danger to keep me safe.

I pulled away from his arms, but the counter was behind me, so I had nowhere to go. His hands moved to my waist and he lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the countertop. That put our heights closer, forcing me to meet his gaze.

I needed to think. To be logical about this. “If you remain mortal, how will you live? I’m guessing soul collecting doesn’t pay the bills.”

A slow grin spread over his face. “Is Tongues for the Dead hiring?”

Did I have room for one more in my unproven firm? I already had a changeling, a ghost, and a brownie. Why not a mortal soul collector?

But my mind kept circling back to what the gray man said. The intensity of his eyes when he’d told me that if I cared about Death I’d return his essence.

My thoughts must have been transparent because Death reached out a hand to cup the side of my face.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“Well, what if you don’t like being mortal?”

He laughed, the sound deep and masculine. “Alex, I’ve been mortal before. Admittedly a long time ago, but I remember parts of it.”

I blinked at him.

“Why do you think I can exchange essences in the first place? If a collector ever grows tired of our unchanging life, we have the option of imbuing a soul with our essence, making them the collector and freeing our soul to move on.
Of course, the new collector isn’t really a collector until the mender gives him his powers, but you get the point.” He shrugged. “The fact you touch my reality is the only reason we could exchange essences, but it was never meant to be used like this.”

“So if the mender takes away that ability, you’re forever stuck a soul collector? You never get to move on?”

All the humor bled from his face. He shrugged but the movement was stiff.

So if he remained mortal he was in danger but if I returned his immortality, it would condemn his soul.

I scooted forward, my knees moving to either side of his hips so that I could wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek on his shoulder. “Those options suck.”

His arms dragged me closer, and I felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed again, softer this time. “Yes, well, being around you more often will certainly be a trial, but I’m guessing a slightly better option than eternal servitude.”

“Hey.” I straightened, pushing back from him, but I was smiling.

So was he.

We were close, almost too close for me to focus on his entire face. I was suddenly very aware of his hands on my waist, of the heat of his hips pressing into my thighs, of his familiar scent filling the air between us. I swallowed, my breath turning ragged.
This is really happening.
He was going to remain mortal. Remain with
me
. It was crazy. Reckless.

It matched the rest of my day.

My arms were still around his shoulders. It was easy to lean in, to press my lips against his. He startled at the kiss, but when I ran the tip of my tongue along the crease of his lips, his mouth opened to me and he returned the kiss in earnest. His hand moved to cup the back of my head, his lips firm and smooth against mine as his tongue dipped into my mouth, bringing with it the sweet, clean taste of morning dew.

I’d fantasized about kissing Death since I was a teenager,
but I was always afraid it would change everything. Now everything had already changed. The desire from months of ghost kisses and years of flirting poured into that kiss, sweeping us both along with it. Tomorrow I’d worry about the rider, about Faerie, about mortality. Right now I abandoned myself to the feel of Death’s lips against mine.

He dragged me to the edge of the countertop, but left that last inch of space between our bodies. I closed it, my legs locking around his hips. The feel of him, hot and hard straining against his jeans, brought a moan from me, a sound he matched. Then he broke the kiss, pulling back.

“Alex, love.” His voice was strained, his mouth still close enough that I felt his quick breaths featherlight against my lips.

“Mmm?” My hand moved to his hair and I ran my fingers through the dark strands.

Death’s eyes fluttered closed, his fingers tightening on my hips as if I’d touched something much more intimate. I smiled and kissed him again.

There was no hesitation this time. He kissed me like I held his life in my body—actually, I guess I did, but that was one of the things I wasn’t thinking about right now. I focused on the softness of his T-shirt under my fingers and how it contrasted with the hard muscles underneath. I’d never seen him out of it, and I suddenly needed to more than anything else. My hands crawled down his waist as his moved up mine, as if mirroring my movements in reverse.

The shirt was tight, stretched over his muscles, and I hooked my hands under it, letting my fingers trail over flesh as I pushed it up his chest. He broke away from me long enough to pull the T-shirt over his head. A light feathering of dark hair covered his chest, coming to a point that drew a line down the center of his stomach and disappeared into the top of his jeans.

He watched me study him, that knowing smile on his lips again, but when I reached out, he caught my hand. He lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss on my knuckles—an oddly restrained and formal gesture.

I frowned. “What’s wrong?” The question was more a pant than words.

“I’m just seeing if you’re really here, with me.”

Now I was confused. “Where else would I be?”

“Turning off your mind and focusing on your body. I know you, Alex. And I don’t want you to start thinking later and pull away from me.”

Heat burned in my cheeks.
Way to make a fool of yourself, Alex.
I unlocked my legs, scooting back on the counter. Death caught my hips, stilling me. One of his hands moved to my face, guiding my chin up, but I didn’t lift my eyes to meet his.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered, his lips finding mine.

I resisted the kiss at first, expecting him to return to those teasing, brush-of-the-lips kisses, but he deepened the kiss, and my body responded. I lifted my hands to his strong shoulders, now deliciously bare. Death’s thumbs brushed over my nipples through my shirt, and I gasped, things low in my body tightening. He drank down the sound and then broke off the kiss and stepped back again.

I was left breathless and cold without his body pressed against mine. “I’m not sure I like this game.”

“No game. I want all of you, Alex. Body.” His hands moved to my waist. “Mind.” He kissed my forehead. “And soul.” His hand moved and my back arched as a pleasure so thick it verged on pain spread through me.

When I could think—and breathe—again, I met his eyes. “Did you seriously just touch my soul?”

“Just a little.”

“Do it again?” I panted the request.

He stepped forward and kissed me, but there was more than just lips in this kiss. He touched something deeper. Something that made heat spiral in my core. I ground my hips against him, resenting the amount of clothing we both still wore.

Death made a noise deep in his throat and his lips moved from my mouth to my neck, trailing kisses down my throat, over my collarbone, to my chest. His hands moved to the
zipper on my shirt, releasing me as he leaned me back against the counter. His lips never left my body as he stripped off my top. His hand moved to the thin silver chain holding the fae perception charm and started to lift it over my head.

“Not that,” I said, gasping.

He looked up. “I can See you, Alex. It won’t change anything.”

But it did for me. As soon as he removed the charm and set it on the counter, my skin turned luminescent. My pale glow was a strong contrast to his tanned flesh. He smiled at me.

“Just as beautiful,” he whispered, running a finger down the length of my torso. Then his mouth was on my body again, making me forget all about my strange glow.

His tongue circled one nipple, making it pebble under his attention. Small sounds escaped me. His mouth caressed me on more than a skin level and the tightness building low in my body, in places he hadn’t even touched yet, increased. He pulled back slightly and blew gently on the skin his tongue had moistened. I shivered in pleasure at the contrasting sensation, and squirmed, pressing myself against the hardness I could feel through his jeans.

We needed less clothing. Now.

I started to push myself up, but Death caught me, kept me from moving. His gazed up the length of my body to watch me as his lips moved over my breasts. I was lost in pleasure and the kaleidoscope of his eyes. I writhed under him. When he straightened he was panting almost as hard as I was.

This time when I struggled back up to a sitting position, he let me. I ran my hand through that downlike hair on his chest, feeling his muscles quiver under my touch. I used the slightest bit of nail, and his skin broke out in gooseflesh. I smiled. My hands traveled downward, toward the button of his jeans.

He grabbed my wrists, halting me. “Are you sure?”