Chapter Fourteen

“Always dress like you’re going to see your worst enemy.”

—Kimora Lee

“Ollie, do you think this goes with my shoes?” Delia trotted into the dining hall wearing a gold floral cheongsam. The Chinese silk dress accentuated her curves in a way that made me hot with jealously. She carried her pink Jimmy Choo heels, the ones Xiangu had bargained from her.

“You didn’t wait long to get those shoes back.” I closed Scriveners, A History, one of the books I had borrowed from Wrightwick Manor.

“You didn’t answer my question. Shoes or not?” She bumped her hip to one side as her cue that I should answer or risk her wrath. Delia had a way of making you talk.

“I hate the shoes. In fact, I’ve always hated those shoes, so when Xiangu wanted them, I saw it as a victory for us.”

Her lips pursed. “You could’ve told me that weeks ago.”

“I know. I’m a shitty friend.”

“No, you’re not.” She plopped down at my side and flicked one of my dreadlocks from my shoulder. “You’re a shitty fashionista.”

The day I cut off my dreadlocks, Delia would celebrate. She despised my style.

“Delia,” I said, “I need your help.”

“I know.” She put her hand on my knee. “Let’s start with plucking your eyebrows and then we’ll move north to those dreads of yours. We can do it slowly if you wish. I’m all about making it a pleasurable experience.”

“Delia, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

My nostrils flared when I huffed, and that was all she needed to know that I was not in the mood for teasing. She took one hand from my book and cupped it in both of hers.

“What is it?” This time she was serious.

“Brent, Dudley, and I are going to leave for Quebec tonight.”

Her fingers tightened around mine. “You’re going to leave us?”

I nodded—my best answer.

“Why?” Her question was simple but it was loaded with “why after we followed you across the earth, Ollie?” and “Why do you have to leave at all—the fight is over?”

“I need to get back to that Interceptor.”

One red eyebrow rose high. “Sounds kinky.”

“The Interceptor is the device I used to override Stygian television and make a plea for help. You remember that, don’t you?”

“Sort of. I remember Errol showing the video of your confrontation with Marin to me shortly before you came to visit us. And you know what?”

I gave her a look that said I was listening and prepared for a comment on my looks or how she had planned for my makeover from that moment onward.

But Delia, who showed me an unending breadth of loyalty, said, “I knew you’d make things right for Styx after watching the video. I knew you’d become my best friend as soon as I met you. That’s why I can’t let you leave here without me.”

My throat tightened. I had gained and lost several friends in my life. Delia would never replace Eve, but she did a good job of slipping politely into the void Eve left behind, filling it with her grace and humor.

“I would have you come with us, but I need you first to smooth things over with Neema,” I replied. “She is upset, and I have a feeling we’ll need her help. Can you work your charm on her? And will you watch out for Papa and Nicodemus?”

“I can fix things with Neema. But you know, you could watch out for Papa Bear and Nic yourself if you waited and we all went together.”

She had a point. But much like when I had to flee Quebec City after leaving my Deathmark on Nicholas Baird, I could not waste any time going back to clean the mess that had been left behind in Lethe. I had been the one to dethrone Head Reaper Marin. I had to be the one to fix his mistakes. I would start by airing the truth on live Stygian broadcasting so long as the Interceptor still worked.

“Is this about that woman in your necklace?” Her eyes settled on my lotus pendant.

“This is partly about Eve, yes.” And it is partly to do with you, Delia, and Brent, Papa, Nicodemus, and all the others who went before us. Styx had to work again. People, human and Stygian, had to go somewhere other than a horrible limbo when they died. Mama and Eve needed to be in Elysia. And everyone else I loved needed to have it waiting for them when it was their time.

“The other part must have something to do with that letter Neema gave you.” Delia wasn’t stupid. She knew. Papa and Nicodemus would ask the same questions. They would all know eventually. I only needed time.

“Please, promise that you’ll keep them safe and get Neema back on our side.”

“Mm-hm. By safe, you mean distracted. The second they hear that you’re gone, they aren’t going to continue lounging around the Acheron like two bumps on a log.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m asking you for help. You can keep them distracted long enough for Brent and me to get a head start.” I would not bother telling Delia any further information. She had not needed much information to go along for a ride. Delia enjoyed adventure in her pink Jimmy Choos. She’d be my ally from afar—a gift I did not have when Brent and I fled Quebec after the Deathmark incident with Nicholas Baird.

“Oh, fine,” she groaned. “How much of a head start do you and Paul Bunyan need?”

I gave my answer due consideration. “A couple of days would be great.”

“That’s a lot of shoe shopping between here and Quebec.”

“It sure is. Load Papa and Nic up on candy bars, and they’ll be fine for a few days.”

“It’s a plan, Teacup.”

Night seemed the best time to make our exit. The trouble was that Brent, who had been on the run for the same amount of time and carried the same exhaustion, did not want to rise from his hammock in a dark, private part of the gardens.

Waking him from a deep sleep was wrong. I should’ve let him get one night of rest. That would’ve been the kind thing to do.

“Brent,” I whispered, bent over him. I wanted to move in closer to brush my lips against the softness of his earlobe. I decided not to as a bubble of fear rumbled in my gut. “Let’s go.”

I had told him we would leave in the night. He had been fine with the idea hours ago. Now he grumbled and turned his head away.

“Come on. It’s time to go.” There was a way to coax him out of his slumber—flip the hammock. I would save that trick as my final warning. Hades knew I didn’t need to agitate the Eidolon when I needed him most.

“Brent, I—” My urgency was interrupted when he clamped one hand around my wrist and pulled me down over him. I kept my toes on the ground, balancing precariously above the drowsy Eidolon. Had I toppled over, we undoubtedly would’ve gone on a wild ride, spinning the hammock and landing hard on the grass. I clung to my balance for all I had.

“You have a habit of running off in the middle of the night, Scrivener.” His baritone was ripe with desire.

“Maybe. This time you’re coming with me.”

He tugged slightly on my wrist, nearly forcing me to fall on top of him. Brent obviously did not pay heed to the instability of a hammock. One wrong move and it would end poorly. To fight his draw, I yanked my arm back. My heels returned to the ground. My balance was restored.

My reaction forced his eyes open. Gold shined back at me. Gold meant many things in a Grim Reaper. For Brent, who was an Eidolon, it did not mean death. For once, I was happy to see that look in his eyes. But now wasn’t the time for it.

“I’m serious. We have to go before they wake up.” I broke completely free of his hand.

The hammock swung lazily. Brent remained cradled in his bed, staring. His expression told me he would not move until he got what he wanted. Perhaps the time had come to flip the hammock and send him flailing to the ground. He had fair warning, didn’t he?

Something about my expression must’ve tipped him off to my plan, not that it was the cleverest plan. Anyone who had ever climbed into or out of a hammock knew the perils. He was vulnerable. I had the upper hand.

Trouble was, Brent was faster and stronger.

When I put my hands on the edge of his hanging bed, intent on using a little strength and guts to flip him on end, he had me pressed against him, chest to chest, nose to nose. The hammock swung aggressively with the both of us in it. There was a serious possibility that I’d lose my blanace and we’d get ejected from the hammock. While some might find the idea romantic, having the air knocked out of me was not arousing in the least.

I waited to speak until the hammock’s wild reaction slowed into a steady, gentle rocking. “I’m not sure I’m ready,” I said.

“Okay.” His breath puffed against my parted lips. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

I had no idea if he could. Why was I holding onto my fear? Why couldn’t I just melt into his arms? Much of me wanted to. But the other part resisted like he would suddenly change his mind and do away with me after all.

“The hammock won’t hold us.” The poor thing was already groaning from my added weight.

“I’ll break your fall.”

Sure he would.

There was a part of me that preferred to let him win, and it was slowly winning out to the more practical side that was hell-bent on getting out of here before anyone awoke. But perhaps in this idyllic place, safe from danger, we could take a moment to be together. I would quiet my fear. I would let him prove to me that he was safe again, that my fear was now unfounded.

Brent’s lips found mine before I fell down the rabbit hole of deep thought. He must’ve sensed that if he didn’t initiate now, he’d lose me entirely to my mind. His tongue moved across my teeth, between them, and met my own tongue. This closeness felt safe, and I began to marvel at how it could be so when hours earlier he was trying to send me to the Afterlife. I had to push through this fear. Maybe I could force it gone.

He isn’t going to kill me. I’m safe. I’m right where I want to be.

Another second passed, and I slowly, guardedly unraveled my limbs. My legs became intertwined with his. My arms moved around his thick torso. He felt like the same Reaper I’d enfolded in my arms years ago. Nothing had changed. And I was glad of it.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” he whispered against my cheek.

“Me too.” I began to chuckle. “But do we have to do this in a hammock?”

Really, wasn’t it impractical? What was he trying to prove by getting dirty in a hammock? Before I bothered to explain why it would be a horrible experience, not at all romantic as some might like to believe, I was lifted out of the swinging death trap. Brent, who had limitless grace, somehow scooped me up after climbing out of the hammock. We were headed to the woods, which were dark and afforded us more privacy.

I’m still scared but… I quivered from bliss when I thought of being intimate with him. But I want him more now. I need him.

“I don’t need you ending up with a concussion because I was trying to be adventurous.” His hands moved down my breasts, stopping to give a tiny squeeze, before moving to the button of my jeans. His touch was electrifying. It brought to life all the things I had stamped down over the past few weeks, things I wasn’t entirely sure would resurface again. But they did, like good instincts.

My fingers pulled at the buttons of his flannel. Each one felt like it took ten minutes to undo. That feeling didn’t thwart me, however. And soon, his flannel and thermal shirt underneath were discarded on the ground next to our feet. My pants had been undone, peeled away, and at a clump at my side.

When he pushed my back against a large pine tree, I understood why he didn’t remove my shirt and bra. Something needed to serve as a barrier between my skin and the tree’s bark.

His hand moved across my pelvic bone, teasing at what lay bare just underneath. This was enough for me to reach for his jeans, pulling at the fabric to release him to me. As I did, I smiled upon brushing my hands across his thick, swollen member. He wanted me. I could feel it pressing like rock against my body. When he slipped two fingers inside me in one smooth, effortless move, my body told him that I wanted him, too.

This was not a time for prolonged lovemaking. We didn’t have all night or even an hour. I wasn’t disappointed about this, either. Sometimes quickies are the most rewarding moments between two lovers. It’s enough to let the other know you love them and want them by taking a breather between all the chaoses of life.

He put one forearm underneath the back of my knee and lifted it up, exposing everything to his desire. It was in this move that I undid his jeans and let them fall around his knees. His erection sprung out and pressed against my mound that was slick with want.

Brent’s glowing gold eyes met mine before he pressed into me with one, strong force of his hips. A mix of pain and pleasure moved through me. My hands found his flexed biceps first, seeking something to hold onto as he began to rock the both of us with his need. When my fingers landed on the thick muscle around his neck, I found my grip. And he found his rhythm.

The tree we used as support rocked as he thrust into me, forcing himself deeper and deeper as I opened fully to his erection.

Just as I began to let out a little moan of pleasure, my eyes met his again.

“I love you, darlin’,” he said in a whisper.

Fear still moved within me, but I tamped it down every time it got too close to wrenching me from this moment. Feeling him this close, feeling the way love and safety surrounded me in this private corner of the woods, made me want to scream with happiness instead. What was so wrong with that? It seemed nice enough to tell the world that we loved each other unconditionally, that we had overcome challenges the size of the tallest mountains. And here we were, sharing in this moment that was meant between two physical beings. In a way, it felt almost too small to be making love to him here. I wanted to scream it at the world. “We did it! We survived, and now we’re just lovers!” Just lovers. It was a beautiful idea. Lovers slept in, shared breakfast, went on walks together, then curled up after a long day in each other’s arms. Then, they did it again the next day and the day after that. That was what lovers did.

We could do it, too. We could have the quiet, simple life. And right now, I tasted it. My body felt it as it moved in time with Brent’s. I wanted more of it. I wanted nothing more and nothing less.

As he continued to rock our bodies, sending us careening toward that pinnacle every lover wished to share with their partner, I threw my head against his chest. I kissed the muscles as he flexed hard against me. My teeth left marks against his flesh. My fingernails dug into his shoulders.

Brent moved faster and harder as he came to his climax. As he stroked my insides with more and more verve, he brought me along for the ride. My body rippled with electricity. It began first in my core where he rubbed me hard and fast. It grew stronger. It felt like I was about to fall through the earth and into Elysia, which would’ve been fine with me. But I held on tightly to his body. And then I exploded with passion at the moment he did. We came together like a perfectly orchestrated climax of a symphony.

It was the little instant as we came down from our high that I began to feel everything with more intensity. The tree cut into my back. My leg that was lifted around his arm had fallen asleep. I didn’t care one bit. I just smiled at the Reaper and reminded myself that the humdrum life of lovers was within reach. We could have it if we wanted it.

Then why, deep down, was I still scared of him?