were luminescent enough to cut through the night and right through to my core. I filled my lungs with icy air and took a step forward into the light. “Can I come in?” I asked in an unfamiliar voice.
She nodded and moved aside, watching me warily as I climbed clumsily though the window, then shoved it closed.
“Cash?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk. I couldn’t stand hearing my words come out cloaked in his voice.
Emma looked into my eyes and eased back onto her bed, her eyes wide with shock. “Finn?”
I nodded and took a step forward.
“Oh my God…Finn, what did you do? Is Cash…is he…?”
I knelt down in front of her. “He’ll be fine.” I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be very soon. Balthazar had to know by now. I had maybe a minute or two before they dragged me through Hell’s gates.
“Why?” Her voice broke and a tear rolled down her pale cheek before landing on her collarbone.
“I want to be able to feel you like you feel me. To be with you without any limits, even if it’s only once,” I whispered. My fingers twitched, aching to touch her.
I couldn’t make myself finish. Instead, I leaned up until I was close enough to feel her breath fanning across my lips. Connection sparked between us, reeling me closer.
“But you’re not you,” she whispered.
“Look into my eyes, Emma.” I placed my palms on either side of her face, and the shock of her skin on mine, the heat…I shut my eyes and a breath shuddered out of me. I forced my eyes open, needing her to understand before they came for me. “It’s me. It’s Finn.”
She nodded. Her blue eyes fixed on mine. “You’re Finn.”
“Please say this is okay,” I said, the urgency drowning me.
She nodded and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I didn’t have time to. I kissed her, and the paper-thin space between our lips was crushed out of existence. Her mouth immediately opened, letting me in, and I slid my hands up her thighs to the edge of her cotton shorts. She tasted like chocolate and peppermint and life. Her smooth skin felt like silk. I needed more of her. All of her. I could barely breathe through the amount of want building up inside me. I didn’t want to waste time breathing.
My heart pounded so loudly I thought for sure she could hear it. It was a strange sensation after not having a heartbeat for seventy years. I leaned into her and my hip bumped her injured leg. Emma gasped against my lips.
“Damn it. Sorry.” Gently, I shifted her back farther on the bed. I wanted this, but I knew how much pain she had to be in. My palms pressed into the mattress on either side of her head as I leaned over her and touched my bottom lip to hers. I wanted to kiss her again, but didn’t know how to do it without losing control.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and her words left the thin wall of self-control I had built up crumbling.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Not more than I already would be. I kissed her throat, tasting the spot just behind her jaw. Emma made a frustrated sound, pulling my face up, and our lips collided with so much force I groaned.
Emma whimpered and I swallowed the sound as her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging at the long spikes. Unfamiliar tingles danced across my scalp. I felt dizzy. I felt drunk. Completely intoxicated from all things Emma—her smell, the feel of her skin, her taste. It was driving me mindlessly over the edge.
She scooted back onto her bed, grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt to take me with her. I followed. I would have followed her into the fiery depths of Hell if she’d asked me to in that moment. Twenty-seven years of wanting her spilled into me, refusing to be satisfied. A desperate hunger twisted my stomach into anxious knots.
Her fingers tugged at the hem of my T-shirt and I broke away to help her pull it over my head before diving back in. Little whimpers and moans escaped her until I couldn’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain. But she wouldn’t let me stop. I didn’t want to stop. An involuntary moan rumbled somewhere deep in my chest. She felt so warm beneath me, so alive. God, I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
“You taste so good,” I whispered against her moving lips. “You taste like peppermint. I almost forgot what that tasted like.” More importantly, she tasted like home. My hands inched up her tank top and touched her bare stomach, something I’d dreamed about doing for months. Last summer when she’d laid out, trying to tan her pale skin, all I’d wanted to do was touch her stomach. And now that I could, it was so damn worth it. I’d go to Hell a thousand times over to have my hands were they were now.
“What in the
Every muscle in my body tensed at the sound of Easton’s voice. I rolled away from Emma. He stood at the end of the bed, his eyes dark, angry. The blade in his hand flashed.
“Finn…what’s wrong?” Emma touched my hand.
I laced my fingers through hers and squeezed.
“I hope it was worth it,” Easton said.
I glanced over my shoulder at Emma, shaking Cash’s shoulders, trying to rouse his unconscious body. I’d never hold her again. Would never taste her, talk to her, or hear her laugh. There wasn’t going to be any “get out of jail free” card for me. Not this time. It was over.
I didn’t know what I could say to change anything, so I just said, “It was.”
Chapter 32
Finn Everyone’s version of Hell is different. Or so Easton tells me. Some burn in fire. Some die in ice.
Most drown in their nightmares, or choke on twisted fears and mangled memories. Only one thing is certain here—whatever your poison, it’s sure to last an eternity.
Easton tugged me down the ash path, through the blazing gates, and to the smaller iron gate where we’d deposited the two souls. He rapped his scythe on the bars and I knew I should have been afraid, but instead, I thought of Emma. I wanted to remember her warmth. I wanted to remember her breath in my mouth and my hands in her hair. I wanted to remember her like the dream she was before they turned her into a nightmare.
The gates opened. “Let’s go.”
It was dark here, and the heat strangled me. In the distance, screams morphed together into one long, continuous moan that felt infectious. Like the sound was reaching down into my belly trying to pull my scream up to join them. I flinched when the buzzing sound of a chainsaw echoed down the corridor. Something wet splashed under my shoes, but it felt too thick to be water. Smelled too metallic to be anything other than blood.
Someone cleared their throat and Easton stopped. A soft glow lit up the dark cave, splashing light onto the stone walls like melted gold. A rush of cold turned the sweat dripping off of my nose to ice.
Balthazar.
He folded his hands behind his back and sighed. Behind him, yellow glowing eyes blinked from the corners.
“You just couldn’t listen, could you?” he said, stepping toward me. He looked over my shoulder at Easton and jerked his chin. “You can go. I’m sure you have plenty of other work to do.”
Easton squeezed my arm once before releasing me. “What are you going to do to him?”
“That’s none of your concern.” Balthazar’s eyes glowed as he narrowed them on Easton. “But if you’re intent on staying, maybe we could arrange something for you, too.”
Easton hesitated in the doorway, his violet eyes burning with regret. Then he stepped into the darkness. I stood still, listening to the splash of his footsteps until he was gone. Lifting my chin and tamping down the fear inside of me, I looked at Balthazar. He had his own brand of regret settling across his face, but it wasn’t enough to change anything. He was probably more upset he was soiling his bright white robe, which was soaked in blood from the ankle down.
