If I Die ss-5 Read online

  Her brows rose. “I should be pissed off, but this is actually kind of funny.”

  “I’m serious. If you don’t leave me and Nash alone for five more days, I will make it clear that I can’t possibly rest in peace knowing the two of you are together, and you really will be competing with a ghost. How’s that for a threat?”

  She nodded solemnly. “Not bad, for a first attempt. So what do I get if I do let you…have him?”

  “A truce. I agree not to stand in the way of your relationship with Nash once I’m gone, and you agree not to stand in the way of our relationship until then.”

  “But I want him now.”

  I shrugged. “And I want to live. Looks like the universe mixed up our wish lists. So what do you say? Truce now, and my blessing for the two of you, once I’m gone?” I’d thought saying that would make me want to rip my own hair out, but it was actually a bit of a relief. Because the truth was that after I was gone, Nash would need her. Resisting addiction wouldn’t be easy for him, coupled with grief, and she could help keep him straight.

  Sabine blinked, and I could practically see the gears turning behind her dark, dark eyes. She knew what I was offering—Nash would let himself be happy with her if he didn’t think I’d object. “Fine,” she said finally. “But I think I’m getting the better end of this deal.”

  The scary part was that I believed her. “Whatever. For now, I really need you to find out about Mr. Beck.”

  Sabine’s gaze narrowed on me in sudden suspicion. “Are you sure you don’t have a more personal interest in this? I know you’re trying to lose the big V before you meet the big D, and since Nash isn’t sounding incredibly interested, you may be looking into some other options. And I have to respect your taste. Beck would be one yummy hunk of flesh, even if he didn’t have a fear in the world. But why don’t you try looking a little closer to home—”

  “Ew, Sabine, I don’t want to sleep with Mr. Beck!” I couldn’t stop the shudder of revulsion crawling up my spine at the thought that he might be connected to what happened to Danica. “And Nash is interested.”

  “But you haven’t done it yet…?”

  “That’s none of your business.” I started backing toward the front door.

  Sabine shrugged, and I wanted to smack the smug look off her face. “He’ll tell me all about it once you’re gone, and I can wait a few more days for that.”

  “Do you even have a heart in there?” I demanded, one hand on the front doorknob.

  “Not anymore. I gave it to Nash before he even met you.” She couldn’t quite hide a flash of true pain, but for once, I was unaffected by someone else’s suffering. Like she’d said, I’d be gone in a few days, and she could wait that long to pick over my corpse and claim what I’d left behind.

  “Just find out what Mr. Beck is—without letting him know you’re not human. Can you find some reason to touch him and read his fears a little more in depth?” Thanks to the braided bracelets we both wore—woven strands of dissimulatus, to keep hellions from identifying us from the Netherworld—he’d never know either of our species unless we gave ourselves away.

  “If you think he’s really screwing students, finding a reason to touch him will be the easy part.” Sabine leaned back on the couch, making no move to show me out.

  “Yeah. For you, I guess it will be.”

  Her brows rose again, in challenge. “You calling me a slut?”

  “No.” I sighed, trying to push aside thoughts I really didn’t want to think. “I think you’re fanatically loyal to Nash, at least in your heart.” And when I was gone, that loyalty would probably be mutual.

  “Sabine?” I said, and her focus narrowed on me, her attention as serious now as my tone of voice. “I know you’ll be there for him when I’m gone.” In more ways than I wanted to contemplate. “But don’t even think about touching him until I’m cold and in the ground.”

  6

  Sunday morning, I woke up alone. My dad had left a note on the fridge, telling me he’d be back for dinner. No explanation. But I knew what he was doing. He was looking for a way to save my life. I also knew that if he found one, he’d take it, no matter what it cost him, or anyone else.

  What it cost me was obvious. Why did my father always seem to demonstrate his love for me through his own absence?

  I ate a pint of Phish Food for breakfast—why worry about either calories or poor nutrition when I wouldn’t be there to suffer from either one?—then got showered and dressed on autopilot. After half an hour of flipping through TV shows I had no interest in, I picked up my phone to call Emma—then remembered that she was working. But before I could slide my cell back into my pocket, it started playing Nash’s dedicated ring tone.

  I smiled and flipped the phone open.

  “Hey,” Nash said into my ear, his voice deep and gruff, like he’d just woken up. “You busy?”

  “Got nothin’ scheduled till sometime Thursday. Why? What’cha got in mind?”

  Bedsprings groaned, and Nash’s voice got louder. “Lady’s choice. Lunch? Movie? Hell, skydiving? You name it, and I’ll do it.”

  I hesitated for one heart-thudding moment. “My dad’s out. I could use some company….”

  Silence, but for a single exhalation over the line. “Seriously?” he asked. But we both knew what I was really saying. “You sure you’re ready?”

  “Yeah.” No. But I’d run out of time to get ready. “Bring protection.” ’Cause I sure didn’t have any.

  “Give me half an hour.”

  I closed my phone and slid it into my pocket, suddenly so nervous I couldn’t even breathe properly. Every breath seemed to come too early or too late, like I was alternately suffocating and hyperventilating.

  Was that normal?

  Feeling clueless and stupid, I squelched the urge to call Emma for advice—she wouldn’t have her phone behind the counter at work anyway—then stood and stared around my living room like I’d never seen it before. I felt like I should do something to…prepare. But damned if I knew what.

  To distract myself from the endless list of things I suddenly realized I didn’t know about sex—not the science stuff, the real stuff; stuff I’d never really contemplated, but that now seemed vital—I made my bed. Then brushed my teeth. Then changed out of my boring cotton underwear for a pair of slightly less boring cotton underwear, silently cursing the embarrassment that had kept me from buying actual grown-up clothes when Emma had dragged me into Victoria’s Secret a couple of months earlier.

  When none of that helped, I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. T-minus nine minutes, and counting. It would take five just to boot up my laptop. So I sat on the couch and pulled out my phone. Then did the unthinkable.

  I called Sabine.

  The mara answered on the third ring. “School doesn’t start for another twenty-one hours, Kaylee,” she groaned. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Beck yet.”

  “I know. I, um…I need some advice.” I closed my eyes and put one hand over them, silently cursing myself.

  “From me?” She couldn’t have sounded more surprised if she’d woken up bald and toothless.

  “I wouldn’t have called you if I had any other options, but Emma’s at work, and my mom’s dead, and Harmony’s…well, she’s Nash’s mom, so that’s out of the question. And that only leaves you.”

  Bedsprings creaked again—was I the only one who got up before lunch?—and her hand scratched the receiver as she covered it. I couldn’t make out whatever she yelled at her foster mother, but it definitely wasn’t…polite.

  Then a door slammed and most of the background noise died. And Sabine was back.

  “I’m assuming this is about sex. If I’m wrong, correct me now, or this conversation is going to get really weird.”

  “You’re not wrong. I have questions, and I need answers, fast. Nash will be here in—” I glanced at the clock again “—seven minutes.”

  “Cutting it pretty close, aren’t you?” She sounded distin
ctly unhappy to hear that I was minutes away from sleeping with Nash, and I choked back the sudden fear that her answers would sabotage my first—and likely only—sexual experience.

  “The opportunity came up kind of fast.”

  “What aspect of our relationship made you think I’d give you advice on sleeping with Nash?”

  “We have a truce!” I fell back on the couch in exasperation.

  “I said I wouldn’t get in your way—I never said I’d help.”

  “Please, Sabine. You’re going to have him for the rest of your life, but I may only get this one shot.” When that didn’t work, I sighed and tried from another angle. “You were right. I don’t know what I’m doing. Please help me.” Even I could hear the anxiety in my voice, so I wasn’t surprised when Sabine laughed.

  “Okay,” she said, and suspicion lingered on the edge of my mind. Why would she agree so easily? “But first, breathe, Kaylee. He’s not even in the room yet, and you sound like you’re about to pass out.”

  “That’s your fault.” I sucked in a deep breath and held it for a couple of seconds. “You told me I wouldn’t be any good.”

  “Yeah, and I also told you it wouldn’t matter.”

  But it would. I stretched out on the couch with my eyes still covered. “Look, I don’t have time to get good at this and I’d like to avoid humiliating myself. Just this once. Are you going to answer my questions, or do I need to go create the most embarrassing Google search history known to woman-kind?” Not that there was time for that anymore.

  “Fine.” I could practically see her pouting, in my head. “What do you want to know?”

  Another deep breath. “Don’t laugh, but…what am I supposed to do?”

  Sabine didn’t laugh, and I almost died of shock. “Anything,” she said. “Nothing. Whatever feels right.”

  “That’s a nonanswer.” And it only made me more nervous.

  The mara sighed. “It’s the truth. If you don’t know what to do, don’t worry about it. Nash knows what he’s doing. Trust me.”

  My stomach clenched around my ice-cream breakfast. “Could you please not remind me of the two of you together?”

  “Who’s asking who for help here?”

  I was regretting asking already. But there was no one else. “What about my hands? What do I do with them?”

  That time Sabine laughed, but she sounded genuinely amused, not cruel. It was a nice—if suspicious—change. “Touch…whatever you want to touch.”

  I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut tighter. “Anything more specific?”

  “Use your imagination. But really, you can’t go wrong. He’s going to want you to touch him.” I started to ask another question, but she spoke again before I could. “Fortunately for you, the process is kind of foolproof, Kaylee. The basics, anyway. People have been doing it since the beginning of time—with no instructions. Just keep it simple.” Right. Simple.

  “Do you know how the French describe an orgasm?” Sabine asked, and the familiar edge of mischief in her voice was almost a relief.

  “How the hell would I know that?” Sexual euphemisms weren’t covered by Mrs. Brown’s French II class syllabus.

  “They call it la petite mort. The little death. I think there’s irony in there somewhere. At least for you.”

  “Wow. Thanks for that,” I snapped. “I love being reminded that I’m about to die.”

  She exhaled heavily. “You know how much this sucks for me, right? I have one thing with Nash that he doesn’t have with you. One thing. And you just called me for advice about how best to take that away from me. If we hadn’t just called a truce, I’d think you were finally learning how to play the game.”

  “I’m not—” But before I could finish insisting that I hadn’t meant to rub it in her face, Nash knocked on the door, and I stood so fast my head spun. “He’s here. Gotta go.”

  “Swell,” Sabine said, and her voice cracked a little on that one syllable. “But call Emma when you want to talk about it afterward. I’m not that kind of friend.” She hung up and I slid my phone into my pocket. Then I wiped sweat from my palms onto my jeans and opened the door.

  Nash stood on the porch, smiling. Waiting.

  His smile slipped a little when he saw my face, and a thread of doubt swirled through his eyes before he could squelch it. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yeah.” I grinned nervously. “Yes. Come in.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house without stepping back, so that he was pressed against me when I swung the door shut. “I want this.” It’s now or never.

  “Me, too. You have no idea how badly I want this.” Nash kissed me, and I forgot to be nervous. I forgot about everything except him, and the heat between us, and everything that had seemed forbidden before but was now suddenly available, and irresistible, and…right in front of me.

  I backed slowly across the living room, still kissing Nash. Breathing him. Tasting him. I let him guide us through the doorway and down the hall, one hand around my waist while mine slid around his neck. I clung to him like the safety bar on a roller coaster, hurtling down the track fast enough to steal my breath and scatter my doubts. And that was the whole point, right? To put aside fear and let myself feel something, before I’d lost that chance.

  When we crossed into my room—I knew by the change in light and the feel of carpet beneath my toes—I pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

  My pulse roared in my ears. I’d seen him shirtless a million times, but never like this. Never with such a storm of need and blatant lust churning in his eyes, so hot that smoke should’ve been rising off his skin. Never with the understanding that we weren’t going to stop there.

  I was already out of breath when Nash stepped back and his scalding gaze met mine. He lifted one brow in silent question, and when I nodded, he slid his hands beneath my shirt, warm against my sides. His hands skimmed up my skin slowly, dragging the material with them, leaving chills in their wake. I raised my arms and he pulled the shirt over my head.

  I didn’t see where my shirt fell because he was kissing me again, and his arms wrapped around me. My bra pulled tight for a minute, and I gasped against his lips when the material suddenly fell to the floor between us. Then we were chest to chest, skin to skin. For the first time.

  At least, that I remembered…

  But I pushed that thought away. So what if he’d already been this far with me before, when I wasn’t in possession of my own body? That nonmemory didn’t matter anymore, right? Thanks to my truncated lifeline, nothing mattered anymore, except how I spent the next five days. And I wasn’t going to spend them being ruled by fear.

  I pulled Nash down for another kiss, the only reliable cure for encroaching panic. His hands fell away from me, and a moment later we were on the bed, and his pants were gone, though I had no memory of that happening.

  I lay back on the pillow and closed my eyes, and the world was reduced to his lips, and hands, and a flood of sensations that were nothing like I’d imagined, yet somehow even better. I got lost in the feel of him—everywhere all at once—and only found myself when he unbuttoned my jeans.

  Startled, in spite of my own intentions, I sat up, and his hands fell away again. Nash studied my surely churning irises, watching me closely. “You want to stop?” He would take no chances this time, and that meant the world to me.

  “No.” My voice was a shaky whisper. “Don’t stop.”

  He smiled—a burst of heat before the flames rolled over me—and I lay back again, staring at that crack in my ceiling as he slowly slid my pants over my hips, leaving my underwear in place. For now.

  This is going to happen. My choice. I wanted it.

  But when Nash’s face appeared over mine, his weight settling onto me gently, I couldn’t breathe. He was naked. Completely.

  “You okay?” he whispered, kissing the sensitive skin below my left ear.

  “Yeah. Yes.” I nodded, just in case I wasn’t clear, running my hands
over his chest.

  He kissed me again, and his knee slid slowly between mine. I listened to my heart pound in my ears, wondering if he could hear it. Wondering if he could feel it.

  His lips traveled south of my collarbone and I threw my head back, and—

  Someone knocked on my bedroom door.

  I sucked in a cold, shocked breath. Nash rolled off me and sat up, breathing too fast. Already reaching for his pants. I flipped the edge of my comforter up to cover myself, my face flaming. Thursday be damned, my dad was going to kill me now.

  Right after he killed Nash.

  “Just a second!” I yelled, then I held one finger to my lips, warning Nash to be quiet. Saying I was an adult for the next five days didn’t mean my father was going to play along with my decision. Or that Nash would live long enough to see me die.

  “It’s me,” a voice called from the hallway, and Nash threw his pants at the floor instead of pulling them on.

  “Tod, get the hell out of here before I kill you myself,” he growled. “And this time, you won’t be coming back.”

  “I need to talk to Kaylee.” Tod’s syllables were bitten off, like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “Just be glad I’m not her dad. You guys aren’t exactly stealthy.”

  “We’re not in the mood to talk.” Nash sat on the edge of my bed and slid one arm around my bare back while I clutched the covers to my chest, mortified beyond speech.

  “It’s important,” Tod said through the door. “Get dressed. I’m coming in.”

  “Damn it!” Nash swore, pawing through the tangle of material on the floor for his boxer briefs. I stood and scanned the room for my clothes, and Nash spat profanities at his brother while I fastened my bra and pulled my shirt over my head.

  “Time’s up,” Tod said, and an instant later he appeared at the foot of my bed. He glanced at me long enough to realize I wasn’t wearing pants, then turned around while I pulled them on.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Nash snapped. He bent to pick up his pants again, then straightened, his gaze narrowed on Tod in anger and suspicion. “How did you know to knock?” Nash demanded, and my cheeks flamed like hot coals when I followed his logic. “You usually just blink into the room, right? How did you know not to this time?”