Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4) (29 page)

I LANDED WITH a hard thump and winced when pain erupted along my hip. Standing, I surveyed where I was and searched for Dorian. I’d landed outside of my apartment complex. Looking up to my kitchen window, I felt my jaw drop upon seeing myself. I stood in the kitchen with Dorian. I remembered that day. He’d been like a warden, almost suffocating, and was telling me that I shouldn’t go into work. When I didn’t listen, he suggested Eddie go with me so that if anything happened he would be alerted. Dorian had never been able to see my future, or rather my death date, so he was uneasy about me being alone. At the time I thought he was overreacting. Had I known only hours later a rogue would step into my shop and kill me, I would have happily stayed in bed that day.

Fingers slid along my arm, and I shrieked, spinning around. Dorian stood just behind me, putting his hand up in an ‘it’s okay’ gesture. He pulled me into his body and hugged me to him.

“Shit,” he breathed, “I’m so happy that worked. When you slipped out of my hand I thought I’d never find you.” Leaning back, he studied my face for a split second before lowering his head to mine and kissing me. I’d always loved kissing Dorian, loved the power of his lips and my body’s reaction to him. I slipped my hands up to the back of his neck and pressed myself closer to him, savoring every sensation he provoked. Unfortunately, we were on a time limit and every little second counted.

“I’ll be leaving for work soon,” I said against Dorian’s mouth. Closing my eyes, I took a moment to catch my breath and steady my heart. Kissing him felt different now that I knew he loved me. It should have made it different in a better way, but it didn’t. Kissing him now came with expectations and those scared the living shit out of me. As much as I didn’t want to think about our relationship, whenever I was around Dorian it was as though the universe was forcing me to think about it. Much like pain, Dorian demanded to be felt. His presence was so strong that he was impossible to ignore.

“What are you talking about?”

I turned around and pointed up to my kitchen window. “I’m getting ready to leave for work. You’re trying to talk me out of it.” Dorian stepped closer to my back, his body shielding the cold air and warming me. It was early spring and still chilly, and I was only dressed in a tank top, jeans and flip-flops. If I ever traveled through time again I’d be a little smarter with my clothing choices.

“Does this prove that you should listen to me from now on?” Dorian whispered against my ear. His hands settled on my hips as he held me to his body.

“The day I start letting anybody—man or woman—dictate my life is the day I cease to live.” Peeking over my shoulder, I said, “But, I admit I should have listened this time.” I turned to face him. “You. Were. Right,” I told him. “Happy?”

He grinned down at me, but shook his head. “I have never wanted to be more wrong about something in my entire life. I wish I would have just been overreacting, that you would have come home that night and rubbed it in my face.”

I laughed. “That would have been fun.”

The front door of my apartment opened and Dorian and I scrambled to hide behind a car. I watched myself come down the stairs, walk across the parking lot, and get into my jeep. As my past-self pulled away, Dorian and I stood.

“Looks like we’re on foot,” Dorian said.

I eyed my apartment with longing, wishing I could go inside and put on some warmer clothes. But Dorian’s past self was up there, and Fiona had been adamant about avoiding our past selves.

“I think it was an hour after I got into work when the rogue showed up,” I told Dorian as we walked into town. I hugged my arms to my chest and tried to keep from shivering. Dorian walked with his arms at his sides. He was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt, but had taken off his leather jacket before Fiona poured the water over us. For a moment I wondered why he didn’t appear cold, and then remembered that the temperatures didn’t affect Dorian like they did me. When he got really angry he could freeze the space around him. He’d once explained that, because he’s Death, the coldness comes from being able to command and control sprits at will. Since ghosts are cold, being they have no physical body to warm them, Dorian’s power was cold.

“We’ll hang out at Espresso Self and keep watch,” Dorian said. “I want to take the rogue out before he even steps foot inside your shop.”

I looked up. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Dorian met my eyes. “Because I get to kill that fucker again.”

Shaking my head, I brought my attention back to the road. “Do you really think it’s going to be that easy? I mean, if I was marked for death today isn’t it inevitable?”

“Everybody has multiple paths, Gwen. The choices you make in life determine which direction your path takes. Everyone’s death date is constantly changing, unless they live their lives so by the book that there’s no room for change. Something as simple as changing your route home could alter how you die. Say you took a short cut due to traffic, that short cut would change you path and you could end up crashing your car. Death is absolute, but its delivery is determined by your choices. Had you stayed home that day, the rogue wouldn’t have found you in the shop and killed you.”

“It still would have ended in disaster,” I said.

Dorian looked over at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Had I listened to you that day, the rogue still would have come into Broomsticks. Only, instead of killing me he would have killed Penny. Between that outcome and the one I’m currently in, I’d choose mine.” I stared down at the asphalt. “I never want my bullshit to cause trouble for others.”

“Have you ever thought that people think your bullshit is worth risking their own well-being for?” Dorian reached over and pulled my hand away from my chest. He slipped his fingers through mine, connecting our palms like two puzzle pieces.

“Fiona’s moving out,” I told him, the memory of her telling me just popping into my head. “Maybe my bullshit got a little too thick for her.”

“Just because she’s moving out it doesn’t mean she’s giving up on the friendship, or that your bullshit is too much for her. Besides, it’ll be nice to have the place to yourself. It means I’ll be able to bend you over the couch or dining room table without worrying about someone coming through the front door.” He grinned down at me.

I shook my head, but smiled myself. I thought when I got involved with Dorian that I’d be safe from all the drama that comes with relationships. He was not the relationship type man, had even told me so himself. After Aiden’s betrayal, I just couldn’t risk getting hurt this soon. Why couldn’t we keep things casual? Why the hell did he have to fall in love with me? All of that was great in theory, but if I was being honest with myself, I’d fallen for him, too. That may have ticked me off more than him falling for me.

Ten minutes later we were walking into Espresso Self. It sat just across the street from Broomsticks. Dorian ordered me a mocha latte and himself a black coffee and we took a seat next to the window. My red jeep was parked along the curb across the street, which meant my past self was already inside.

“This is all so weird,” I said, taking a drink of my coffee. Its warmth slid down my throat and heated me from the inside out. I was half-tempted to stop at Duds and find a parka to keep me warm, but I hadn’t brought my purse with me.

“It’s been a weird week,” Dorian said as he stared out the window. I studied his profile, still affected by his handsome features. His dark hair was still damp and hung limply against his shoulders. His jaw was darkened by a five o’clock shadow, but it were his lips that completed the masterpiece of his face. The bottom was a little fuller than the top, and I knew from experience how soft they were.

When his head turned in my direction and his smoky eyes met mine, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“That day in New Orleans, you told me
the payment would be yours.
What does that mean? Are you in trouble?” I felt horrible for not thinking of this sooner. If the NAWC wanted to bring me in for something I had no control over, surely the man responsible would also be in some trouble. Dorian had never explained who his bosses were or really anything about his line of work.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told me, looking back out the window.

“Dorian,” I said, staring at his profile again, “tell me the truth. I want to know. I don’t want this to be one sided.”
Whatever this is
, I thought to myself.

He leaned his arms on the table and stared over at me. “It doesn’t change anything. Even knowing what I know now, I still would have saved your soul.”

I leaned my arms against the table like he was doing. “And what do you know?”

The corner of Dorian’s mouth twitched. “Let’s deal with saving you, and then we’ll worry about me, okay?”

I sagged back against my chair. “Why can’t you ever open up to me? I get that you’re trying to right your wrong, but in doing so you’ve put yourself in danger.” I exhaled and stared out the window to break eye contact with him. “Why don’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

Dorian snorted. “Is that what you think, that I don’t trust you?” When I shrugged, he continued. “You’re one of the very few people I do trust. You’re always so forthcoming with your thoughts and feelings.”

“Then why won’t you tell me the truth?”

“Because you’re also gun-ho to sacrifice yourself if you think it’ll protect the ones you love.”

My eyes shifted to his at the way he said
love
. “Is it bad enough to warrant sacrifice?”

“You’d probably think so,” Dorian replied with a small smile, “but given my other option, it’s not.”

“Dorian,” I breathed, frustrated with his games, “just tell me.” We watched each other for a few long seconds before his eyes fell to the tabletop.

“I either have to reap your soul, or I’ll be stripped of my powers.” His head lifted to meet my eyes again. “And before you start taking blame, it’s not your fault. I was the one who broke the rules. Everything that is happening is a result of my greed and obsession of you.”

He reached across the table and clasped my hand, watching his thumb as it swept across my skin. “You’re worth any price I have to pay.”

I swallowed before speaking, trying to conjure words. “Who’ll strip your powers? You’ve never explained how your world works to me.” I couldn’t picture Dorian not being the Angel of Death. Would he be human then or a normal spirit walker like me? He had lived countless centuries and was immortal and all of that could disappear because he met me. Whether he thought I was worth it or not, I couldn’t turn a blind eye for what this meant for Dorian. If I lived, his entire life would change.

“I’ve told you that death is as natural as life,” he started. “There is a group of beings that keep the world in balance. The big man deals with producing life, sending souls to earth to be born, and I am responsible for their departure.” He was still staring at our clasped hands, but when his eyelashes shifted, I knew he was now looking at my face. The fog in his eyes swirled and crawled across his sockets. I swore if I stared and listened hard enough I could hear thunder.

“The Fates are responsible for helping souls find their paths, directing them. We all play our parts, balancing life. Every being—human or supernatural—plays a part, but it’s us who pull their strings.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “When you say
big man
, do you mean God? Is he the one who’ll strip you of your powers and how can the world be without the Angel of Death?”

Dorian smiled but it’s not one of his genuine ones. “Everything is replaceable, even me, and yes, when I say big man, I mean the being you refer to as God. Stripping me of my powers is a generous punishment. It could be worse.”

I sat in silence for a while, processing what he told me. Every so often I’d take a drink of my coffee, happy that it chased the chill away. Dorian kept staring out the window, his focus on my shop across the street.

“Are you actually an angel?” I finally ask.

“Yes, fallen angel to be precise.”

“Will another angel take your place?”

Dorian shrugged. “Perhaps, though, there are many different vessels that can accept the gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“The powers that will be taken from me.”

I nodded, taking another drink. This was the most open he had ever been with me, so I took advantage to learn every possible thing that made up Dorian.

“After your powers are taken,” I started, “what will that make you?”

“You needn’t worry, cupcake, I’ll still be able to protect you.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “I’m not worried about myself, Dorian.”

To be honest, I was a little worried about Dorian’s ability to protect, but not me, himself. Since meeting me he’d pissed off more than a few people by playing with their souls, and I feared that he would be helpless after his powers were stripped.

“But if I die you won’t lose your powers or title, right?”

Dorian’s left eyebrow arched slightly, his eye thinning. “You won’t die so don’t go getting any crazy ideas. Don’t make my sacrifice in vain, Gwen.”

“Get that look off your face,” I told him. “I’m not planning on dying. I was just curious.”