Death, and the Girl He Loves

She gestured to herself. “Duh.”

Offering up a quick prayer for patience, I said, “You know what? I think we should break up.”

“Break up?” she shrieked, following me into the hall. “You’re breaking up with me? With me?”

If anything could bring conversations to a screeching halt, it was a teenaged girl having a hissy fit. Admittedly, Tabitha wasn’t that bad once you got to know her. I had some fond memories that, thankfully, I wasn’t present for, but some relationships just weren’t meant to be.

“It’s not you,” I said, heading toward the drinks table. “It’s me. I just think we need some space. You know, see other people.”

“I—I don’t know what to say. I feel violated.”

“Would iced tea help?” I asked, pointing toward the tea cooler.

“No, iced tea won’t help!”

If anyone would try the patience of Job, it was Tabitha Sind. But there was a side to her that not very many people saw. It made me question everything. I’d apparently become a bitch to keep people at a distance. Did Tabitha do the same thing?

It was a possibility, especially when taking into account that something that had happened to her a year earlier. Something only I’d known about. Something I’d seen in one of my more horrid visions. But we were in a different reality now. Did it still happen? Better yet, could I still see? I opened the spout and let fresh iced tea stream into my cup. I hadn’t had a vision since the switch to Supernatural Savings Time.

In an attempt to hide what I was doing, I coughed into my hand and took hold of Tabitha’s arm, pretending to use her for balance. I drew in a deep breath and concentrated. For my efforts, I experienced her horror, her utter shame and self-loathing, once again. Her future had not been changed. She’d fallen into the same trap as before. Been dealt the same unfair hand.

The world tipped, and I found myself fighting for balance when I felt a strong arm around my waist once again. I clutched on to Jared’s shirt as Tabitha, completely ignoring me, flashed her million-dollar smile at him.

The one positive thing that came of that little experience was that I did control the vision to a degree. I’d searched for it. Unfortunately, I found it, but I was getting stronger still. I could hone my visions to see what I wanted to see when I wanted to see it. The visions would no longer control me.

Nah, who was I kidding? I could hardly control my own addiction to orange soda, much less something as powerful as a supernatural gift. But it was a nice thought. And at least I could control it to some degree.

Jared growled, and I realized I’d just lied to myself. Two positive things came out of my snooping around Tabitha’s past. I got Jared’s arms around me again.

“Oh, hey, Jared,” Tabitha said, her tone suddenly syrupy sweet.

“Hey,” he said with a nod, his breaths heavy, labored. He set me right, waited a minute to make sure I could stand on my own, then brushed past me, literally brushing past me. Every part of his body that could touched mine as he stepped to the water cooler and poured himself a cup. He winked at me from behind it, and that’s when I noticed the blood and bruises that covered pretty much every inch of him.

I was quick. Nothing got past me.

“I hope you’re faring better than your opponent,” I said, trying to contain my mirth. A few weeks ago, I would have been horrified, but I’d learned to let Jared and Cameron be, well, Jared and Cameron. Apparently supernatural beings needed more playtime than humans. And roughness helped, too.

Jared downed the water, then went for another cup. “He’s writhing in agony,” he said as it streamed out of the cooler. “I decided he was taking too long to recover and came in for a drink to pass the time.”

“Good to know you’re worried about him.”

He fixed a brilliant smile on me, downed the second cup, then asked, “You think I should take him some water?”

“That would be nice.”

He tossed the cup with a wicked laugh. When I narrowed my eyes on him, he said, “You didn’t see what he did with that tree branch. Some things are just wrong. He doesn’t deserve water.”

I grinned and he bent down and kissed my cheek before heading back out.

“You can do better than that,” I said, teasing him with a smirk.

He turned back around, still out of breath, and took a good long look at me, starting at the top of my head and ending at the tips of my toes. Then he stepped back to me.

“I’m all dirty and bloody and stuff.”

“Exactly how I like my men.”

His brows shot up. “Your men?” he asked, taking the hem of my shirt into his hand and drawing me closer. “Just how many men do you have?”

“Oh, a plethora.” I waved his question off as though it were simply too difficult to give an exact number.

“Ah,” he said, nodding in understanding. “That’s a lot. But can they do this?”

He wrapped me in his arms and bent me backwards. I felt my feet slide off the floor and clutched on to him for balance. Then, in an act of pure pleasure, he put his lips on mine. Warm and pliant, they molded to my mouth, his breath mingling with mine. He seemed to lose himself. He plunged one hand into my hair and pulled me tighter as he angled his head and deepened the kiss.

My insides stirred with his touch, with his tongue delving into my mouth, with the fierceness with which he seemed to want to devour me. Without breaking the kiss, he straightened and pulled me off the floor. A soft growl escaped his throat as his mouth left mine and trailed tiny kisses to my ear and down my neck. I’d never felt anything quite like it.