Chapter 4 The Present #3
See, the thing is, last time I asked them to kill Mark, it was partly because I wanted out. Out of whatever binding they’d put on me, out of this limbo, and into the afterlife so I could finally do what I actually wanted.
But now? It’s different. This time, I have no idea what would happen to me once my murderer’s gone.
I doubt I’d just appear in the afterlife, sentence served, wings earned, and ready to punish Mark however I wanted.
If that were the case, Death wouldn’t have given me this mission in the first place.
So if Cassian kills my ex-husband now, it’s not for my freedom. It’s not for anything noble. It’s just to kill him. Just revenge. Pure, undiluted vengeance. An eye for an eye.
“I owe you,” Cassian says.
If I weren’t so tangled up in my own thoughts, I think his words would’ve shocked me. The man has done a complete one-eighty in the past few hours. He used to treat me like I was nothing, some ghostly annoyance he could ignore, roll his eyes at, dismiss with a sigh.
And now?
Now he’s willingly talking to me. Joking, even. And offering to help me, without being asked.
Fuck. It’s the whole jerking-off-in-front-of-me-then-saving-his-life thing. Has to be. In his warped, emotionally-detached world, that probably makes us best friends or something.
But best friends don’t give each other orgasms, Skye. Did you already forget how he kissed you while Talon was finger-fucking you?
I wish I had. But unfortunately, my conveniently half-functioning brain decides now is the perfect time to replay the whole thing in high definition.
He kissed me like he meant it. Like it wasn’t me who needed the touch, but him. I remember his hand gripping the back of my neck. I remember the way his mouth moved with mine like he was starving for me. I remember—
I shift in my seat.
“Uh, yeah,” I manage. “Let me, uh… think about it.”
“Sure. But know that I like to pay my debts,” he says, like that’s supposed to sway me.
And I like having control over my own life. Too bad I don’t. Because of you.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but before I can, Talon lets out a long, theatrical sigh beside me. The kind that starts in his chest and unfurls into something sinfully smug.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he drawls, stretching his legs out. “Can we not spend the rest of the drive wallowing in Skye’s ex? I beg you. There are much more stimulating topics to explore.”
He shifts just enough for his thigh to brush mine.
“Like, for instance,” he murmurs, voice dropping into a velvet purr, “what we’re going to do when we get back to base. We could talk battle strategy. Logistics. Objectives. Or…” He leans in, his breath warm at my ear. “We could unwind a little. Indulge. Something fun, maybe.”
I swallow. My whole body tenses. I know that tone—mischief wrapped in silk and strung with barbed wire. Talon’s idea of “fun” is never PG.
Then he adds, deadpan and devastating, “You’re still fragile, after all. Weak and helpless. Maybe we should give you another little boost. See if your powers kick back in.”
I choke.
Not metaphorically. A real, undignified, strangled sound escapes me, because I genuinely don’t know if I can handle it.
Back in the limbo, I used to crave touch more than life itself.
Just feeling something, made me feel real.
Now that I am alive, everything feels too much.
The sensations, the awareness, the edge of it all.
And worse, other feelings came with it. Like fear.
Like uncertainty. Like actually having something to lose.
I clear my throat, trying to pretend I’m not one second from combusting.
“Right,” I say, voice a little hoarse. “A… boost. Just like before.”
Talon chuckles darkly, like he can hear the frantic pounding of my heart.
Which, honestly, he probably can. My body is loud.
My thoughts are louder. And the worst part is, I’m not just craving the touch because it can bring me back from the brink this time around.
I want it because I want these stupid fuckers.
All of them.
“We don’t know if it would even work again,” I say, trying to rein in the heat crawling up my neck.
“Why not?” Talon drawls. I glance at him. He’s not even trying to hide the way he’s looking at me—like he’s imagining it already. Like we’re already tangled up again, and he's just replaying it in his head.
“Because the physics of me are different now,” I say. “Literally. I’m not the same as I was when I glitched in the in-between.”
Talon’s grin turns lazy. Dangerous. “Right. You’re solid now.”
My breath catches.
Nathaniel, who’s been silent this whole time, speaks up from the front. “Skye’s right. The mechanics have shifted. Lust triggered a glitch in the ambulance, yeah, but it didn’t ground her like it did before. Touch might not help anymore.”
“Exactly,” I say quickly.
But Talon just leans in, resting his arms over the back of my seat like he’s lounging in a throne.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he says, casual but calculating. “Let’s think about it logically. Lust with fear made her glitch. Which still counts as her powers working again by the way. But lust with safety—”
He nods toward Cassian without looking at him.
“That calmed the glitches down. Made her control it better Just like when Cassian talked her down at the car crash. You remember that, right?”
I stiffen. So does Cassian.
“I think it’s simple,” Talon says, all sharp teeth and velvet menace. “Just gotta make Little Grim feel safe. Really safe. Then the rest takes care of itself.”
He’s watching me now. Watching me like he already knows I won’t deny it.
And he’s right.
Because I can’t.
I can feel his smirk without even seeing it. It’s the kind that curls like smoke, makes you breathe it in before you realize you’re choking on it.
Then he leans in closer, his breath brushing my ear.
“So how about we practice a little, hm?”
“No,” Cassian says. Sharp. Immediate. A single word flung like a blade.
Talon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look at him. He keeps his eyes on me, slow and smug, like he’s daring Cassian to push harder.
But I look.
Cassian’s grip on the steering wheel has gone white-knuckled. His jaw is tight. His voice is low when he adds, “We have more important things to focus on.”
“Do we?” Talon muses. “Because from where I’m sitting, helping Skye get her groove back feels like the top priority.”
“You’re not helping her,” Cassian bites out.
At last, Talon turns his head. Just a flick of his gaze. Barely a concession. “You know, Cass,” he says, voice light, taunting, “for someone who pretends nothing gets under his skin, you’ve been wound tighter than a priest in a whorehouse lately. Maybe it’s time you blow off a little steam.”
Cassian says nothing.
Which is already something.
And Talon, of course, takes the silence as an invitation.
“Or,” he adds with a smirk I can feel without even looking, “at least stop standing in the way when someone else is trying to.”
Cassian’s laugh is dry and humorless. “Breaking a couple of your teeth might help.” His voice is low, like gravel under pressure. “Or maybe finally putting the ex six feet under. Or, just maybe, making sure the spirit of Laura fucking Collins doesn’t come back and finish the job on us.”
The temperature in the truck plummets.
My brain is officially two seconds from a meltdown. I pull the blanket up over my head like it might shield me from all this sexual and supernatural crossfire. A burrito of despair. That’s me. Safe. Hidden. Absolutely refusing to engage.
I decide, firmly and with great dignity, that I will be ignoring all of them for the rest of the trip.
Mercifully, we arrive at the hospital about twenty minutes later.
It looks just like I remember; cold and gray and endless, but something about it feels larger now. Or maybe it’s just that everything else feels smaller by comparison. Being hunted by a wraith tends to shift your perspective.
Cassian parks near the side entrance. Nathaniel is out before the engine cuts, scanning the perimeter like he expects something to leap out of the shadows.
Talon sighs like he’s just stepped off a runway, not out of a murder-van. He rakes a hand through his tousled hair and hops out with the casual grace of someone who’s done absolutely nothing criminal today.
And just like that, Cassian flips the switch.
The tension, the simmering rage, it all folds inward, tucked into the quiet, controlled efficiency. He turns to me, all business now. “Can you walk?”
I blink up at him.
Then, because I feel like being a little shit, I shake my head slowly without even testing my legs. “I think my legs are too weak. Guess you’ll have to carry me.”
It’s a joke.
A tease.
Meant to annoy him. Maybe distract him. Not to be taken seriously.
But Cassian doesn’t roll his eyes. He doesn’t even blink.
He just nods.
Wait.
Wait, what?
Before I can process the shift, he’s already out of the truck, coming around to my side. He opens my door and reaches in like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he’s going to carry me.
And then I’m airborne.
Just… gone from my seat.
My breath hitches as his arms sweep under me, lifting me like I weigh absolutely nothing. I let out a small, startled sound as my body leaves the safety of the cocoon, the world tilting as I instinctively throw my arms around his neck for balance.
“Oh,” I say, blinking up at him. “I didn’t even try on my own, to be fair.”
Cassian’s expression doesn’t change. Not even a flicker of amusement.
“I noticed,” he says.
Nathaniel glances over his shoulder, brows raising in mild surprise, but miraculously says nothing. Talon, on the other hand, whistles low under his breath.
“What a gentleman,” he drawls. His voice is smooth, but there’s something else under it. A flicker of tension, sharp and fast, before his face smooths back into its usual lazy charm.
Cassian ignores him.
Silently, he carries me inside.
And all that lust I’ve been trying to suppress during the ride?
Yeah. Turns out that was a spectacularly wasted effort.