I cut her off. “Until what?”
“Azrael showed up. He was furious the angel was killing anyone and everyone he could touch. Azrael said the balance was shifting. Too many beings were dying, and he... Azrael—Death—has a quota. It was being overfilled. I thought he’d be thankful, but apparently that’s not how it works. With every death, Azrael grows weaker. Mass deaths ail him. Although he can never truly die, he can weaken. When that happens, deaths don’t go as planned. People—humans—end up incapacitated... instead of dying, they live in limbo. Stuck in the mortal world but lingering in the afterlife. They take up space, basically.”
“Shit.”
She sighed and crossed her arms around herself. “He killed the angel, but he blamed me. As if I asked for this curse.”
“Hey... I didn’t ask for it either. Remember?”
“True, but it’s what I do.”
I extended my hands. Long, thin raised scars followed the tiny paths of my veins from my fingertips to my heart where a dark scar marred my flesh. “And now he’s blaming me? What is this?”
Eyes downcast, she explained. “Death lives within you. You choose now. When you touch someone, you will see their death... When that happens, you make a choice. Let them die or save them. If you take too long to decide, Azrael will take over.”
“I can choose... that’s a good thing.”
Tayah placed her hand over mine. “Clay, if you save someone, someone else will take their place. Someone else will die.”
“So?” I shrugged, if I could save a life instead of extinguishing one, it would be a reprieve.
“Your brothers.”
“Fuck.” I stood and paced the room again, remembering Azrael’s words. “Mortal and immortal will fall...” Damn this bullshit! “What the fuck, Tay?”
She jumped to her feet, her arms outstretched. “I said I was sorry.”
“What did he do to you?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me,” I demanded.
She shook her head.
I gripped her arm and pulled her closer. “Tell me, Tayah, now.”
“No.” Then, she disappeared.
Tayah never told me what the Angel of Death did to her that night, and she swears she never will. I’ve wondered many times if it was some kind of sacrifice he forced her to make. I should have tried getting into his head then. Now, I can’t get into Tayah’s. She blocked me from her memories the same night.
Tayah’s hand slides over mine where it rests on the gear stick. “Stop thinking.”
I keep my eyes on the road ahead. “I can’t.”
“But I can take your mind off it. Pull over.”
Without argument, I pull over and park the car on the side of the road. Tayah hitches up her skirt and I slide the seat back as she straddles my legs and trails kisses across my jaw and down my neck. “Stop thinking. Let yourself enjoy it.”
Tayah and I have been together, strictly for sex, for almost as long as I’ve been cursed. I’ve never been willing to get close enough to another female to form a long-term relationship. To form a bond with someone, means I’d need to remove not only my gloves, but my willpower... that’s not something I’m prepared to do.
“Clay...” her voice drips with desire. “Stop thinking about it.”
My body relaxes and my mind goes blank as Tayah’s hands drop down between us where she unbuttons my jeans and frees my cock. The rush that comes brings an overwhelming surge of relief. The weight of death has been lifted. Now, all I can focus on is the way she knows exactly how to touch me to draw out the most pleasure, and for the next thirty minutes, I let her.
CHAPTER TWO
the heartbreaker
LEXI
present day
The background music is barely loud enough to drown out the chanting. “One. Two. Three. Four.” Cheers erupt around us as we swallow the line of shots on the bar one by one. I clench my jaw and hold my breath as the burn travels down my throat and I beg the coloured liquids to stay down.
When the world stops spinning and the blur disperses, my best friend, Jessica, grabs my hand and leads me back to the dance floor with two of our girlfriends. The shiny satin sash over Jessica’s shoulder and across her chest reads, Birthday Girl, and is stained with coloured alcohol thanks to the rainbow shots Lori dared us to drink. If my memory serves me right, it was two hours ago that I gave up my two-hundred-dollar bright pink stilettos and hung them on the arm of a nearby chair. I must get them back.
With a tug on the hem of my skin tight pink dress, I follow a deliriously happy Jessica to the front of the stage, bumping into anyone who dares cross our path. She was determined her 19th birthday would be a “total blast” since she’s newly single and ready—and willing—to bed any guy who so much as breathes the air surrounding her. Desperate is an understatement. From the dance floor, she gazes up, ogling the lead singer of the indie band, Hazer. When his hand drops down to take hers, he gives her a sexy wink from beneath long, sweaty strands of black hair before continuing along the front of the stage.
“OH MY GOD. He touched my hand.” She shoves the Hazer-touched hand in my face and squeals, “He’s so hot.” A dreamy smile dances across her gloss covered lips before she shimmies her ass to the beat of the music.
As we dance, a pair of hands snakes around my waist. I expect them to belong to my boyfriend, Harley, but the deep voice beside my ear and the scent of stale beer and cigarettes sends an unwanted shiver down my spine. “Hey, darlin’ you’re lookin’ sexy.”
I yank his hands off me and spin around, furious. “Don’t touch me.” The guy must be at least thirty and his greasy hair and dark moustache screams pervert. Eww... gross.
Blaire steps back, gripping my hand, and Lori, ever the drama queen, sprints off the dance floor and heads straight to her boyfriend, Marshall.
Jessica groans as she grabs my hand. “Ugh, come on, let’s go.”
As we walk away, the greasy pig laughs, then pinches my ass. “Come on, sweet cheeks, you don’t wanna dance?”
I spin around and glare at him, one hand on my hip, the other pointing a warning finger. “YOU ARE A PIG. Leave me alone.”
A gentle hand squeezes my shoulder. “Babe, what’s wrong?” It’s Harley.
I point at the guy who licks his lips and raises his brow. Ugh. Gross. Might vomit.
“That pervert touched my ass.”
Harley takes a step forward and squares his shoulders before he tugs me back behind him. He’s only nineteen, but he works out every day and never backs down from a fight.
He towers over the lanky dirt bag. The last thing I want is to be kicked out of The Ivory Tower and be put on their black list. It’s the only club in town with cheap drinks and theme nights which Jess and I love and have been attending since we were sixteen and they opened up their under 18’s club. Plus, The Ivory Bunny Competition is only a few weeks away, and if I miss it, I will die. Okay, yes, I’m dramatic, but it’s the first time I’ve ever been chosen for something so exciting and I cannot wait.