15. Arit

Chapter fifteen

Arit

W atching Nixon sleep is one of the most fascinating things I’ve ever done.

After he passed out, I carried him back inside and attempted to transport him back to his apartment via my chariot. Interestingly, I had no problem at all. Supporting Nixon’s sleeping form, I simply commanded my chariot, and we were off, not a hair out of place, much to my relief that as long as Nixon was in my chariot with me, no one could see him.

And now, after a good hour spent watching him sleep, I’m considering all the possibilities of what he explained to me back at my apartment.

A portal fueled by Fate and his DNA.

His insistence that his soul is finally ready to rest.

A magician with the power to craft potions.

And no explanation necessary, that kiss. Fate and stars above, that kiss was the single most defining moment of my entire existence. Like the very cosmos stopped spinning and our kiss was the burst of energy needed to get it moving again. I could outlive every other reaper on the planet and never, even in passing, forget it.

But if what Nixon was saying is true, if his soul really is done, it will be the end of me when he goes. Without him by my side, without him out there, ready to be found again, my purpose, my reason for existing is over.

If I could make a bargain with Fate, I would ask that when Nixon’s soul goes, I go with it.

“I can feel you thinking again,” Nixon murmurs, and when I look over, his eyes are still closed.

“Is this some new human-reaper intuition you have?” I ask, reaching out to stroke my hand down his back.

Nixon hums in appreciation. “Maybe.” He cracks his eyes open. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome. I figured you’d be more comfortable here. Plus, I don’t have a bed.”

Sitting up, Nixon rubs his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “It’s already dark out. This has been the longest day I’ve ever had.”

“I bet. When you’re feeling better, I’d like to hear more about this magician and how you found me.”

“Sure. How long was I out?”

“One hour and thirty-nine minutes.”

Sufficiently roused, Nixon meets my gaze. “I’m not even going to ask how you know that. As far as I can tell, you don’t have a phone.”

“Why would I need a phone? I’m not human, Nixon. I live off the energy of the universe. And from the moment I was created until twenty-seven days ago, you are the only human to ever see me without my permission.”

Nixon’s gaze doesn’t waver. Instead, he crawls closer to where I’m perched and somehow manages to straddle my lap. “That’s because I’m yours. Your human. Who gets to see the real you after all these years.” Then he leans closer and presses his lips to mine, soft and sweet and so very tempting. “Thank you for always being there for me. I’m sorry I freaked out earlier.”

Running my hand down his arm, I say, “I told you the truth was overwhelming. Thank you for still talking to me. Any normal human would have run for the hills.”

A small smile tugs the corner of Nixon’s lips. “I’m definitely not normal if Fate paired me off with a harvester of souls.” Nixon kisses me again, short and lovely. “Aren’t you supposed to carry a scythe and wear a black robe? And how did we even get here? What kind of magic have you been using on me, Mister?”

Some latent instinct I never knew I had kicks in, and I can’t stop myself from cupping the back of Nixon’s head and pulling him to me. I press my lips to his, and kiss him like I own him. Nixon doesn’t seem to mind. He gives as good as he gets, slanting his head and swiping his tongue against my lips in a move that has me gasping.

“Kiss me,” he demands, then he’s back, and I’m powerless to resist. My tongue finds his, and even though I have no idea what I’m doing, I shut off my brain and feel, allowing myself to mimic his moves and return them. Nixon guides our kiss, showing me what he likes and asking me in return what I like.

I like the feel of him. The texture of his tongue rasping against mine. The sound of his breathing as we shift and try new things. I like how close he is, how he fills my senses and my arms, his weight a perfect balance to my own. But maybe my favorite thing, or at least my first favorite thing, is the way he holds me close, gripping my shoulder and running his fingers through my hair to hold the back of my head. I like how he doesn’t shy away from my touch, instead scooting closer and then wrapping his arms around my neck.

I’ve never touched anyone this way before. Never been this close to anyone. Never wanted to be. But Nixon is not just anyone, and what we have defies the very laws of nature.

A knock on the door, however, startles us both as his friend calls out, “Yo, Nixy. You in there? Your mom’s here.”

“Shit. I forgot about her,” Nixon mutters under his breath.

We stare at each other with crazed eyes, panting and ruffled, and Nixon’s never looked more beautiful to me. With kiss-swollen lips, a rumpled shirt, and his hair sticking up every which way, all I can think about is finding a way to keep him. Forever.

“Yeah,” Nixon calls out to his friend. “Give me a few.” Then he raises an eyebrow at me, reaches between his legs, and adjusts his cock. And supernatural being or not, I think I might actually combust. “You, sir, are trouble.” He scoots off my lap, and I immediately want to haul him back into my arms. He must read my intentions because he points a stern finger my way. “No. More of that later. Right now, you get to come meet my mom.”

“Uh…”

“You said you can be visible if you want to, right?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I want to. I’ve seen your mom. She’s a little overbearing.”

Nixon’s shock at my knowing his mom is quickly replaced by a laugh. “She’s only that way with me because of how accident prone I am. Hey, how come you’re not her reaper, or Saint’s, or my dad’s? Is it not a family thing?” Nixon adjusts his dick again and runs a hand through his hair. The move pulls his shirt up just enough to reveal a strip of creamy freckled skin and some reddish-brown body hair leading downward into his waistband. Of course, he notices where my gaze has landed, and he steps closer, taking my hand and placing it under his shirt, directly against his skin.

He doesn’t say anything and neither do I, but my eyes fall closed as I simply feel him, his warm skin against my palm. He is life. He is strength. He is the opposite of me, the yin to my yang. And already I know I’m going to love him until the end of time.

His soft hand against my cheek has me nuzzling into his palm. I look up to see him watching me. “Have you ever touched anyone before?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

I press a kiss to his hand and shake my head. “Only you. Twenty-seven days ago. And today.”

He gets this sweet, yet melancholy, look on his face, and then he leans down and presses a kiss to my lips. “Stay here. I’ll go tell my mom I’m better now, and possibly give her my credit card so she can get a hotel room, so she doesn’t have to drive back to Connecticut tonight. When I get back, we’re going to cuddle and talk. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

With one more kiss, Nixon leaves his room. I can hear him greet his mother and the conversation that ensues. Apparently, in my absence, Nixon had grown quite unwell. He wasn’t returning anyone’s calls or messages, and even his mother notices he’s lost weight.

As I listen to him explain about his recovery, a sharp tug in my chest suddenly demands my attention, and I’m up and looking for a piece of paper in seconds. I scribble out a note for Nixon, phase through the wall, and mount my chariot, admonishing myself the whole time that duty comes first, and this is exactly why reapers and humans shouldn’t mix.

But even as I wage an internal battle with myself, I know nothing will stop me from returning to Nixon. Fate put him in my path and changed the course I was on. So Fate better be prepared to answer when I come knocking because there will be no me without him.