Deities & Desires: Death On Line One

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Theo

Stephanie was . . . unexpected.

“Okay then, Mr. Ominous Reply.” She waved her slender fingers in the air, and another smile tugged at my mouth. “Let’s discuss the white herring in the room here.”

I choked on my air and laughed. She had a skill in making me do that, it seemed. “Elephant,” I finally managed and glanced down at her scrunched-up face. “White elephant.”

“I always do that! I hate it. At least you don't seem to mind, and just correct me. My last boyfriend made fun of me constantly. And not in a 'fun' way.”

Boyfriend. Who would stay with a person who treated them in such a way?

A strange sensation wiggled into my chest when she blinked those delicate lashes over her deep brown eyes, and I cleared my throat. “I don't mind it at all. I quite like it in fact. It's terribly endearing. Plus, it allows me to help you, and at the same time show that I'm knowledgeable, which might make me a . . . ”

I trailed off. Mercy. I was rambling. The sensation named itself then: nerves. I was nervous. Me.

Her brows lifted, and she pinched her smile. Hmm. Rambling aside, maybe that wasn't something one should say.

“Apologies if that was too much?”

“No, no not too much.” She finally released her face and studied me. “I'm just trying to figure out if you're putting on with this, or if you really are this . . . ” She hesitated before mumbling, “adorable.”

Adorable. I was quite certain no one had ever called me that. And ever was an excruciatingly long time. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her sexy smirk, which meant I didn't see the edge of the sidewalk.

“Watch out for—”

Her warning was too late, and my foot slipped off, gifting me with sharp pain. “Ugh.” I winced and shifted my weight to the other foot as an obscenity poised on my tongue.

Death, the Master of Souls, had just sprained an ankle. How embarrassing.

“Ah! Are you okay? Here.” Without pause she wrapped her arm around my waist and draped mine over her shoulders, giving a valiant effort at helping me to the empty bus stop bench at the corner.

I would be fine in a matter of seconds, but I couldn't tell her that. And considering the height difference, and her choice of shoes, it was fairly amusing. Not to mention it afforded me a lovely view.

I hobbled dutifully, determined to look injured, keep my eyes caged, and keep my weight off her. I only managed the latter.

“Whoo, okay.” She let me drop to the seat and plopped down beside me, her shirt adjusting itself nicely. “You, you are a solid hunk of man, let me tell you. What are you, like zero percent body fat?”

I laughed and shrugged, eyes straying again as she sucked in a breath. She really needed a new shirt, if for no other reason than to remove the exciting distraction. Conversation was becoming increasingly difficult.

“I'll be fine in a few moments. It isn't bad.” I rolled it as proof.

“Good, I'm glad.” Her sweet smile coaxed one from me. “We're in no big hurry though; let's chill here a bit longer.”

No, not a big hurry, but time wasn’t unlimited. “Very well.”

Pleasant silence stretched as she glanced at the street and smoothed back loose strands of her shiny, soft brown hair, which under the city lights took on the sheen of fallen leaves, slick with the first rain of autumn.

I almost reached out to touch it, but she turned her face to me. “Back to the”—she lifted her brows with a grin—“elephant.”

Once again, a smile manifested on my face. That marked twenty times in the last century, and they had all happened in the past thirty minutes. Because of her. My cheeks would ache for days when this was all . . . over. I forced the smile to stay in place even as a deep ache crept in, but it faltered.

“Ask any question you wish.” I held my hands out wide, letting my cheeks rest for a moment.

“Mm.” She quirked a brow and scanned me, warming my blood. “That's a dangerous blank check there, Mister.”

Twenty-one. I twisted toward her, facing her, draping one arm along the bench back, my hand just behind her shoulder. “Do your worst.”

Deep pink crept up her neck, and when she fanned herself, I bit my lip. She was delicious.

“Not where I saw this going when I brought it up, I'll tell you that,” she laughed. “But, okay then. We'll start with the basics. What's your favorite color?”

“Violet. Though, I'm terribly partial to royal blue as well. You?”

She scrunched her nose and waggled her finger. “I'm asking the questions here, Bub. You just focus on answers.”

I grinned and nodded at this wonderful woman. “Apologies. Carry on.”

“Okay, next. Morning person or night owl?”

“Excellent question.” I adjusted. “I’ve always preferred the night. It's much calmer. Quieter.”

Her smile was slow and small at first, wistful as she held my gaze. Quite a lovely look on her. Then she blinked and cleared her throat.

“All right, Mr. Theo. Doing good so far, no wrong answers yet.”

I barked a laugh and ran my hand down my face. This was surprisingly fun. “Yet. I see. I'd best be on my toes then.” I winked, and her hand slipped off her knee.

“Boy. You are really, uh, really good at that winking thing, okay so . . . ” She fanned herself again. “What would your perfect morning be like?”

Hmm. I tugged at my chin. That would require a little thought at least. Days bled together so often; the task so repetitive. What would my perfect morning be? “I think . . . it would be waking up next to someone I cared for.”

She stared at me as if I'd broken her. Should I—

“You're single?”

Her tone was flat and disbelieving. I nodded.

“Are you gay?”

I laughed yet again. “I don't think I'd have agreed to a date if I were, Stephanie.”

“No, I guess—wait, agreed?” She pointed at me. “You asked me.”

I c****d a brow. “Did I?”

“Yes,” she drew out the word, her body language shifting. “Which brings me to my next question. Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” My smile dropped.

“Agree to call me like that, to mock me basically at the behest of my mom. You seem like a nice guy.” She tensed, drawing in on herself.

“I didn't.” My throat dried. If I told the truth, she'd most likely be terrified, and her last moments ruined. But I couldn't stand her thinking poorly of me. A portion of the truth would have to do.

Stomach in a knot, I ran a light circle on her shoulder with my thumb, to reassure her. At least, that was the reason I gave myself.

“I didn't know it would hurt your feelings. It was all just a terrible misunderstanding. I'm truly sorry, but,” I said, trailing my thumb a bit higher, closer to where her collar ended, and that tanned skin began. Her lips parted, the quickened rise and fall of her chest hypnotizing. “I'm glad I did.” I lowered my voice. “I'd have missed out on this.” I pressed firmer, kneading into her muscle. “On getting to know you.” What was I doing?

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned slightly into my thumb, mumbling something.

Touching her was singularly satisfying. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to. She let out a quiet hum that set all my nerves on edge. I needed to hear that sound magnified, wanted to figure out all the ways I could do just that. My heart kicked at my ribs, and I shifted, slowly splaying my whole hand on her neck, slow circular motions moving her body with each one.

It was then the number formed in my mind, and everything crashed down around me.

Zero.

Still a zero. In fact, it would never be anything but. A knife twisted in me everywhere at once, and I jerked my hand away.

She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders. “Good grief. I need you to do that every day.” She popped her eyes open and cleared her throat. “That's not an invitation. I mean, unless you were inter—never mind.”

She palmed her face, and I smiled despite myself. When she peeked over the edge of her hand, my chuckle surprised me.

“So, you're a masseuse, obviously.” She composed herself and folded her hands in her lap. “That was amazing. In case, uh, you couldn't tell.”

“Hmm.” I scratched my forehead with my thumb, willing my amusement away for what felt like the hundredth time since we'd met. It didn't work. “No. I'm not.”

“Well, Mr. Theo, you've missed your calling. So, let your boss know tomorrow you're quitting.”

I ran my finger under a lock of her hair. I couldn't stop myself. Gods, it was just as soft as it looked.

“I have no boss, Stephanie.”

“No?” She twisted, pinning me with an assessing stare. “Self-employed then. That's admirable, and I totally dig that. I started my company with a three-dollar URL,” she said, drawing herself up, “and a desire to help those looking for love in all the wrong places and all the wrong ways.” She smiled and shrank back down with a shrug. “Can you tell I wrote the 'About Us' page?”

“Mm. Who better to know your business than you?” I curled another lock of her hair around my finger and rubbed it under my thumb, a faint lavender perfume teasing my nose. No . . . I breathed in deeper. Rose. Gods, even better.

“Right,” she gulped. “So, what's your story?”

I cut my eyes to hers and let the hair go, pulling that hand back to rub my neck. I needed to separate from her intoxicating presence.

“Story?”

“Yeah.” She squinted and raised her hand, blocking a renegade ray of sun that had broken through the evening cloud cover. “What do you do?”

Time for another portion of the truth. I crossed my arms and faced forward. “I assist people with death.”

She stilled for a moment before slowly dropping her hand. “I get it. A grief counselor, right? That's a wonderful thing, actually. I can only imagine how many clients you get, especially lately.” She nudged my foot with hers, drawing my gaze. “Might even use you when my mom finally kicks the bucket.”

Her graceful throat rippled, a clear tell despite her attempt to hide the emotion behind a too-wide smile. My plan. I'd forgotten. Though, now really didn't seem like the right time, especially given the fresh gust of wind which had just rippled her shirt, granting another peek at the mounds above her low-cut b*a.

Shocks burst through me and I turned away a bit too quickly. This could be dangerous. Additionally, she hadn’t meant to show so much skin.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned as she tugged the shirt closed. “Right. Shirt.”

“Yes.” I found a spot on the far building and stared at it, struggling to think of something, anything, other than how that skin might feel, taste, and smell until she rested her hand on my shoulder. I whipped my head around to face her, and it was back again, in my mind. Zero.

“How are—”

“I'm fine now.” I hated to lie, but at least things had calmed down. I stood and offered her my hand. “We should get going.”

She took it, and it fit in mine like we were molded as a set. Once she was steady, I released her, before the sensation burned itself in my memory.