19. Arit

Chapter nineteen

Arit

N ever, in millions of lifetimes, have I ever felt what Nixon has made me feel in a matter of days. Meeting him, getting to know him, and becoming intimate with him is like the culmination of an epic journey I didn’t know I was on.

Not only is Nixon kind and thoughtful, he’s sexy and assertive in a way I hadn’t expected. My spur-of-the-moment decision to bring us to Paris hadn’t been a prelude to any ulterior plans, but there was no way I was going to turn down the suggestion in Nixon’s eyes. Seeing the reverence in his expression—the way he thought he was the one getting an incredible gift—feeling the sincerity and desire in his touch, and then finally getting to feel his lips on my body… It was all a shock to my system.

Every notion I’ve ever had about being lonely, about the mundane and solitary existence I’ve endured, was rewritten in that moment. When Nixon put his hand on my chest and drew upon my energy to complete a bond between us that defies explanation, I knew I would never be alone again. I can’t explain how or why, but I’ve never been more certain about anything in all my long years.

But after that mind-altering orgasm and stripping Nixon out of his pants to return the favor, we’re back in his apartment, and Nixon has been sleeping for almost ten hours. And as much as my confidence in our union was dead-on back in Paris, I’m now detecting a faint, wobbling tug on the thread I feel connecting Nixon’s soul to me.

There is something going on with him that’s making me anxious. And I don’t like the feeling one tiny bit.

After twelve hours and eleven minutes, Nixon finally stirs. When he rubs his eyes and stretches, he gasps and curls into a ball, a small whimper escaping when he raises his gaze to find me. He looks pale, and I absolutely loathe the tinge of gray his usually rosy skin has taken on.

“Arit,” he murmurs, voice broken and eyes glassy. “Something is wrong. Everything hurts.”

I reach for him, scooting closer and taking his hand. “I can sense it too. There’s a tug drawing me to you, and it has nothing to do with our connection.”

Nixon makes a pained sound and pulls my hand to his face, resting his overly warm cheek against the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you. I don’t want to go,” he whispers so softly I would have missed it if I didn’t have superior hearing. “I thought I was getting better. I thought you were healing me. But now I feel worse than I’ve ever felt in my life.” He looks up again, and even though I can tell he’s severely unwell, there’s a teasing glint in his eyes. “What is your cum made of because I thought it tasted too good to be true.”

My lips twitch, but there’s really nothing to joke about at the moment.

I refuse to exist in a world without Nixon’s soul. Keeping Nixon himself would be the ideal endgame, but if I lose him and still get to keep his soul, at least I know there’s a chance I can meet him again. In another life. In another body. But his soul is the key to both our happiness, so failure is not an option.

Finding Fate and making a bargain we can all live with is my top priority.

Instead of answering Nixon’s joke, I lean down to stroke my fingers along his temple and jaw and drop a lingering kiss to his lips. When I pull back, not wanting Nixon to strain himself, I rest my forehead against his. “Rest, love. I’m going to do some research. If you’re not feeling better in a couple of hours, I want you to call Linc or your mom. I’ll try to be quick, but I also have my duties to attend to. I don’t want you to be alone. Okay?”

“Do you have to go? I don’t want to be apart. That will only make me feel worse.”

Sighing, I know exactly what he means. I know I’ll be unable to focus without him nearby either. “All right. I’ll read what I can here, but once I’ve exhausted my reading material, I’ll need to seek out other sources.” I kiss him again, and he doesn’t fight me when I get up to grab the stack of books I borrowed from The Owner of The Magic Shop.

Settling in next to Nixon, I get started on the seven books I was able to acquire, only one of which is in English. As I read, skimming through the sections that don’t pertain to my needs, Nixon dozes, always close enough that some part of him is touching me.

But the more I read, the more research I do, the more confused I get.

Don’t ask me why, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I always thought Fate would be a forest dweller. Or perhaps a being on the celestial plane. Someone close to nature who would have limitless power and psychic abilities. The bits and pieces of information I’m scanning, however, seem to suggest a completely different philosophy.

Where I assumed Fate was one entity, similar to a reaper in some ways, The Book of Ancient Folklore is suggesting Fate is a shared consciousness dwelling in multiple bodies.

Secrets of Life and Death , while proposing multiple ideas, including but not limited to God, the devil, angels, demons, and other deities, does have a small section on Fate, saying only that Fate is rumored to be an overseeing entity with the power to choose who lives and who dies and when. Interestingly, a single sentence stands out in the small section.

“Fate holds the power to create, to bind, and to strip, for the souls of the world are many and unique, and each soul has its own purpose and path to follow.”

That phrase sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature in Nixon’s small room. Didn’t Rai mention something similar? That each soul had a purpose? Is it really the purpose of Nixon’s soul to finally be at peace now that he’s found me?

I don’t know, but I reread that passage several times, even though I can already recite it from memory.

Does Fate have the power to bind as well? I know without question that Nixon and I are meant to be together. He is my other half just as I am his. If he goes, what will happen to me?

And how can Fate exist in multiple bodies? And where would I begin looking for one of these beings?

As I continue on, reaching the last book in the stack, Mythology of Sacred Places , I wonder how long it would take for me to visit each place mentioned in the book. Probably not too long, but researching whether Fate is there would take time. And as Nixon shifts and moves closer, reaching out to hug my thigh, I know time is not on our side.

I keep tossing around ideas, thinking of all the places Fate might be found, but my thoughts keep circling back to something I told Nixon a while ago. If reapers are created, if Fate is actually my maker, do I still have some kind of connection with Her? Do I have some kind of internal compass, like how Nixon used his DNA to find me? Could I do the same thing to find Fate? Would the magician’s portal work for us too?

I ponder my readings as I attend to my duties, ferrying two old souls to their beautiful utopias—a well-loved rocking chair on a low porch overlooking the Spanish-moss covered bayou, and an endless sky over the plains of a red-dirt ranch, horses calling out their hellos, saddled and ready for whatever adventures await, while sheet lightning flickers in the distance. And while the serenity of ferrying my charges is still present, it’s overshadowed by an aching need to get back to Nixon.

Over the span of a month, the foundation of who I am has completely shifted. Nixon is my top priority, and I’m no longer sure where that leaves me in the universal order of things.

When Nixon wakes again, it’s early morning. He looks about the same. A gray undertone still tints his normally healthy complexion, but he’s even weaker now, smiling feebly and asking for help to the bathroom. When he’s done, he shoots off a text to his boss, and I follow him to the kitchen.

While he rummages around, finally settling on a cup of yogurt and bagel to nibble on, I sit at the small table and reach for him to sit on my lap when he’s ready. Nixon’s quiet laugh and the way he ducks his head bashfully, like he’s worried about hurting me because of his size, are too sweet for words. “I’m practically immortal, Nix. You could never hurt me. Besides, I need you close.”

Nixon can’t argue with that, his amber-brown eyes sad and forlorn. “I need you close too. It probably makes me seem like a bad person, but I don’t like it when you have to go away.” He looks off for a second, and when he returns his gaze to me, he quickly lowers it again and stares at his bagel instead.

Gently placing my fingers below his chin, I encourage him to look up and meet my gaze. Despite his obvious ill-looking pallor, he’s still strikingly handsome. His coppery-red hair, with a curl that’s not quite wavy, his closely trimmed beard outlining pale pink lips with the perfect cupid’s bow, his freckles, his straight nose and lightly defined cheekbones, and his eyes, loving, honest, and the true windows to his soul. I could get lost in his eyes and never care to find my way back. This man is my reason for being. He’s the reason I exist.

“You could never be a bad person, my love. I’ve seen your soul, and it’s beautiful.”

Nixon’s breakfast is forgotten as he wraps his arms around my neck, his breath warm and damp against my skin. I pull him close in return, loving the feel of him against me. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I know I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. Now that I’ve found you, you’re the only thing that matters. We need to figure something out. We can’t be apart.”

“I know. Just the thought of that happening is driving me mad.” I run a gentle hand up and down his back. “Once you’ve eaten, I have an idea. I’d like to go back to The Magic Shop and see if your portal will take us to Fate. If I’m Fate’s creation, I should have some connection to Her, and since you’re connected to me, with both of us there, I think we could have a real chance of finding Her.”

Nixon pulls back, a ray of hope shining in his eyes. “You think so? You think you’re really connected to Her?”

I shrug because I don’t have any answers. “I don’t know, but I’d like to think so. I think we’re all connected to Her in some way. Even if it’s minor. I’m hoping my connection is a little stronger since I’m a direct descendant. If it doesn’t work, I’ll keep reading and start asking around. Maybe some of the other supernaturals will have more information.”

That seems to pique Nixon’s interest even more, and he perks up, nibbling his lower lip. “Can I come with you? I’ve never met any other supernatural beings.”

“Of course.” I smile softly. “You’re just as much in need of the information as I am. Maybe even more so. And I’m sure you’ve met someone at some point. Even The Owner of The Magic Shop was giving off odd vibes, though I have no idea what he is other than human.”

Nixon nods knowingly. “He was an interesting guy.” Leaning forward, Nixon presses a kiss to my lips. “Even though I don’t feel like it, I should probably actually eat something rather than just picking at this bagel, and then I’ll shower real quick and we can go? The sooner we get answers, the better. Plus, I really want to ride your chariot again.” He wags his eyebrows suggestively, a sexy little taunt entering his eyes.

The idea of him riding my chariot makes my long-dormant cock sit up at the obvious innuendo in his voice. I slide my hand up his thigh and around to squeeze his ass. It’s crazy to me that in only a few days my body has completely changed, already recognizing Nixon and responding to his presence, his scent, and his voice. It’s been decades since I last had any kind of physical desire. But I have a feeling I’ll never get enough of being close to this man.

“I would love that. You have no idea. But we need answers, and we need you better. Then any riding we do will be all the more special, because hopefully, we’ll have saved your soul, and mine along with it. I want to know you’ll always be mine. No matter what.”

Nixon’s smile is sweet and full of promise. “Always and forever. And maybe even beyond.”