Inbetween

Chapter 31

Finn I didn’t think. I just moved. Kept moving until I was sinking into a bleary-minded Cash, who was sitting on his sofa strumming a soft tune on his guitar. If I thought about it, I’d remember what I said to Scout that night on the mountain, and what a disgusting excuse for a person I’d become the second I decided to do this. I told myself I didn’t have time to think about it, but as the dizziness swept through me from the feel of new blood rushing through my veins, not thinking was impossible.

Seeing Emma crumble, hearing her cry that what we had wasn’t enough, shattered what was left of my already shattered soul. I thought about the look in her eyes, the eagerness of her kisses, the way her hands seemed desperate to touch every part of me… I hadn’t been able to feel any of it. Not the heat of her skin against mine or the taste of her kiss. Going corporeal, risking everything to be with her—it was nowhere near enough to fill the gaping hole in my chest that cracked open when I stumbled into her room tonight. I hoped I had enough time to at least get Cash over there before Balthazar sent Easton to drag me to Hell. Even if the idea of me in her best friend’s body freaked her out, I didn’t want to leave her alone.

And I was going to Hell, all right. At least Easton and Anaya would watch over Emma after this.

Anaya would for sure. Easton would probably be too pissed off at first, but Anaya would never let an innocent like Emma die. Especially not knowing what she meant to me.

I set the guitar on the floor and stood up, stumbling into the table in front of me as I worked out how to use my new legs. I felt like I was made of rubber, bending and wobbly in all the places that should have been supporting my weight. Disoriented, I shook my head. Things began to focus but when I spotted the empty beer cans on the coffee table I figured out the root cause of most of my problem.

“Where are you going? It’s freaking cold out there,” a blond kid slurred from a recliner in the corner of the room. I paused at the door and looked back at him, surprised for some reason that he could actually see me.

“I’m going to Emma’s.” My mouth snapped shut involuntarily when I realized it was the sound of Cash’s voice instead of mine. Damn it, this was weird. And if I thought about it much more, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

“Dude! What’s up with your eyes?” The kid sat up and squinted at me. “They’re green. Like, crazy green, man.”

Not wanting to open that can of worms, I stumbled outside. It was eerily quiet this time of night. No crickets, no hiss of tires gliding along the icy streets. Just the sound of Cash’s boots crunching through the freshly packed snow that spanned from his house to Emma’s. When I rounded the corner, I could see her. Her window was open and her face was there, scanning the darkness for me.

I stopped just short of the light spilling out onto the snow and watched her. Her face was flushed, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. Her pale blond hair looked almost white in the moonlight, and her blue eyes were luminescent enough to cut through the night and right through to my core. I filled my lungs with icy air and took a step forward into the light. “Can I come in?” I asked in an unfamiliar voice.

She nodded and moved aside, watching me warily as I climbed clumsily though the window, then shoved it closed.

“Cash?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk. I couldn’t stand hearing my words come out cloaked in his voice.

Emma looked into my eyes and eased back onto her bed, her eyes wide with shock. “Finn?”

I nodded and took a step forward.

“Oh my God…Finn, what did you do? Is Cash…is he…?”

I knelt down in front of her. “He’ll be fine.” I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be very soon. Balthazar had to know by now. I had maybe a minute or two before they dragged me through Hell’s gates.

“Why?” Her voice broke and a tear rolled down her pale cheek before landing on her collarbone.

“I want to be able to feel you like you feel me. To be with you without any limits, even if it’s only once,” I whispered. My fingers twitched, aching to touch her.

I couldn’t make myself finish. Instead, I leaned up until I was close enough to feel her breath fanning across my lips. Connection sparked between us, reeling me closer.

“But you’re not you,” she whispered.

“Look into my eyes, Emma.” I placed my palms on either side of her face, and the shock of her skin on mine, the heat…I shut my eyes and a breath shuddered out of me. I forced my eyes open, needing her to understand before they came for me. “It’s me. It’s Finn.”

She nodded. Her blue eyes fixed on mine. “You’re Finn.”

“Please say this is okay,” I said, the urgency drowning me.

She nodded and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I didn’t have time to. I kissed her, and the paper-thin space between our lips was crushed out of existence. Her mouth immediately opened, letting me in, and I slid my hands up her thighs to the edge of her cotton shorts. She tasted like chocolate and peppermint and life. Her smooth skin felt like silk. I needed more of her. All of her. I could barely breathe through the amount of want building up inside me. I didn’t want to waste time breathing.

My heart pounded so loudly I thought for sure she could hear it. It was a strange sensation after not having a heartbeat for seventy years. I leaned into her and my hip bumped her injured leg. Emma gasped against my lips.

“Damn it. Sorry.” Gently, I shifted her back farther on the bed. I wanted this, but I knew how much pain she had to be in. My palms pressed into the mattress on either side of her head as I leaned over her and touched my bottom lip to hers. I wanted to kiss her again, but didn’t know how to do it without losing control.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and her words left the thin wall of self-control I had built up crumbling.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Not more than I already would be. I kissed her throat, tasting the spot just behind her jaw. Emma made a frustrated sound, pulling my face up, and our lips collided with so much force I groaned.

Emma whimpered and I swallowed the sound as her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging at the long spikes. Unfamiliar tingles danced across my scalp. I felt dizzy. I felt drunk. Completely intoxicated from all things Emma—her smell, the feel of her skin, her taste. It was driving me mindlessly over the edge.

She scooted back onto her bed, grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt to take me with her. I followed. I would have followed her into the fiery depths of Hell if she’d asked me to in that moment. Twenty-seven years of wanting her spilled into me, refusing to be satisfied. A desperate hunger twisted my stomach into anxious knots.

Her fingers tugged at the hem of my T-shirt and I broke away to help her pull it over my head before diving back in. Little whimpers and moans escaped her until I couldn’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain. But she wouldn’t let me stop. I didn’t want to stop. An involuntary moan rumbled somewhere deep in my chest. She felt so warm beneath me, so alive. God, I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.

“You taste so good,” I whispered against her moving lips. “You taste like peppermint. I almost forgot what that tasted like.” More importantly, she tasted like home. My hands inched up her tank top and touched her bare stomach, something I’d dreamed about doing for months. Last summer when she’d laid out, trying to tan her pale skin, all I’d wanted to do was touch her stomach. And now that I could, it was so damn worth it. I’d go to Hell a thousand times over to have my hands were they were now.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

Every muscle in my body tensed at the sound of Easton’s voice. I rolled away from Emma. He stood at the end of the bed, his eyes dark, angry. The blade in his hand flashed.

“Finn…what’s wrong?” Emma touched my hand.

I laced my fingers through hers and squeezed. Not yet. God…I’m not ready yet. “I love y—” I didn’t get the words out. Not before Easton’s scythe pierced Cash’s chest and jerked me out in one swift tug. Pain sliced through me as I separated from blood and skin and bone, and a choking sound escaped my throat. He grabbed my arm, singeing my skin. A familiar black cavern of screams opened at our feet. I couldn’t look at him. My gaze was riveted on the porthole to Hell.

“I hope it was worth it,” Easton said.

I glanced over my shoulder at Emma, shaking Cash’s shoulders, trying to rouse his unconscious body. I’d never hold her again. Would never taste her, talk to her, or hear her laugh. There wasn’t going to be any “get out of jail free” card for me. Not this time. It was over.

I didn’t know what I could say to change anything, so I just said, “It was.”