“I don’t know.”
I sank down into the sand and watched as people came and went. Some of them appeared normal. Those were the ones that must have been in balance. Then some were so much duller it was hard to make them out in the night. The bright ones were the prettiest to watch. Sometimes they’d shine so bright they’d make the sand sparkle at their feet.
Swirls of dark would appear here and there, adjusting a wave or causing an especially strong gust of wind.
“This happens everywhere?”
“Yes.”
“And you think this will help us with Suit?”
“It's not going to hurt. The more you're plugged in, the stronger our leads should be.”
Lars called out from the deck for Fate and he went in without me.
I sat on the sand and watched for hours. Shadows would appear and kick up the surf this way and that. At one point, I watched a woman walk down the beach, and her flip flop got stuck in the sand. Just as she was about to fall, a shadow appeared underneath her and she managed to find her balance.
Everything was being controlled and micromanaged. And instead of having fewer questions, I had more. Who was pulling the strings? Who had this kind of power?
I'd think God, but Harold had made it seem like God wasn't doing the daily lifting down here. So who or what controlled all this?
I didn't go in until I couldn't keep my eyes open a second longer.
Lars's bag was sitting on the table but the house was quiet. When I got to the bedroom, Fate was sprawled out, asleep. I couldn’t fault him for not holding to the bargain, as it was almost two in the morning.
I tried to keep my eyes averted as they adjusted to the dark. This was much easier to do until he turned in his sleep and the blanket moved down to his waist displaying a well-built and very tattooed chest. Now I understood why he wore a shirt to the beach.
I climbed into bed and kept my face toward the wall.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I woke in a sweat and waited for the flashes of a job. They didn't come. But something was wrong. Maybe something they did to me had a bad after effect.
“Fate?”
He mumbled something I couldn’t make out at all. It might have been I'm sleeping but could've also been Go screw.
“Something's wrong with me.” I could feel my heart pumping quicker than normal among other things.
He sat up in bed, with all sorts of naked torso action going on. Even sitting leaned over as he was, there was just ribbed abdomen and my pulse beat a little quicker.
“You're sweating.”
“I know. That's because something's wrong with me. I thought I already established that.”
He laid a hand on my forehead. “You're warm.”
“Ergo, the sweat.” I watched as he dropped his hand and moved his beautifully masculine arm away from me.
He had the nicest skin, all smooth and tan except where the tattoos ripped across his shoulders. I didn’t even know I liked tattoos until this very minute. I felt like I could stare at his chest for the rest of my life.
“You're looking at me like I'm hamburger meat and you haven't had a meal in a while.”
“No I’m not,” I turned my gaze quickly. I hadn’t even realized he’d been assessing me as I stared.
“I knew you didn’t look right.” He got out of bed, and I was grateful to see he had on a pair of nylon shorts. But still, way too much flesh available to stare at. “Goddamn fucking Cupid!”
“Seriously? Are you sure?”
He came and stopped by my side of the bed. “How are you feeling? Little excited perhaps?”
I couldn’t even answer. It was too mortifying. I covered my face in my hands and groaned.
“I'd ask you some other questions to confirm but I don't think it's necessary. This is one of his favorite hobbies.”
And then I remembered Mother’s obvious infatuation. What if it was permanent? “Is this going to go away?”
“It'll wear off in a day or so, depending on your system. I've got some stuff in the kitchen that'll help you sleep some of it off.”
I bit my lower lip as I eyed him. I didn't even like him. He was volatile and raw, the complete opposite of what I went for. He was everything I would have steered clear of in my human days. One look at his face, a second’s glance at his eyes, would shred any pretense of humanity. Getting close to him would be akin to jumping into a volcano. And yet, in this exact moment of time, I couldn't stop my desire to feel the burn I knew he could deliver.
I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“I won't sleep with you. I could be that man—actually, I normally am that man. But not with you.”
I had to stop staring at him. “I'm not asking you to.” I should've let the subject drop but I couldn't stop myself from asking. “But since we are on the topic, what's wrong with me?”
“You're the relationship type and, no matter how much of the human we pry from your clinging hands, it cloys to you, just like the girlishness of your perfume and ruffled skirts. I don't need you looking all doe eyed at me in the morning.”
“You are such an ass.” I got up and walked out of the room. My shoulder connected with his arm as I pushed past him but it wasn’t very satisfactory since it didn’t budge him at all and I ended up bouncing a couple of steps off my path.
I walked into the kitchen, swearing revenge on Cupid and determined to find some sleeping pills myself.
I looked upward and then spoke in a hushed tone so Fate couldn’t hear me from the other room, “Look at what you’ve done to me! I will never speak to you again after this.”
“Need help?” I turned to see Lars coming up behind me in the kitchen. What, did no one wear a shirt anymore?
I looked upward. This doesn’t change anything.
“I didn’t realize you were still here.” I turned, the counter at my back, as he came forward and leaned against the opposite counter. Could I really sleep with Death?
“Long commute.” He grinned as his eyes made their way up from my bare feet, to my thighs before the hem of the long t-shirt I wore to sleep covered them.
Maybe I could give this a try.
His hand came to rest on the side of the counter I leaned against. I knew the type of help he was looking to offer and my eyes drifted to his lips. I couldn't deny I was tempted, but for some reason it felt like eating low fat frozen yogurt when I was craving ice cream.
Still, I didn't turn away when he leaned in a little closer. Frozen yogurt tasted better than nothing.
I knew if it wasn't for whatever Cupid did to me, I wouldn't be doing this, but I couldn't figure out the harm in it. I'd be reborn in less than two weeks from now. I'd forget all of this. It was like a free pass. Why not?
“What are you doing?” Fate asked from the entrance of the kitchen. He was clearly speaking to Lars, not me. Now there was the ice cream man, but he was closed for business.
Lars’s hand dropped from beside me and the gap between us widened a couple inches. “I was seeing if Karma needed a little help.”
“I've got it covered.”
I could almost smell the male testosterone party going on, but I couldn’t figure out where Fate had gotten an invite. Hadn’t he just turned me down? Was a girl supposed to starve?
It couldn't be jealousy, after he'd so graciously explained how he wasn't interested. What was his deal?
“I didn't realize you were up.” Lars now moved to the opposite counter, a few feet between us now. “I was just looking for a bite to eat. You said you weren't hungry.”
“Well, now I am.” Fate stepped deeper into the kitchen.
Lars put his hands up. “My mistake.” I watched as he started backing out of the kitchen.
Was this a joke?
“Oh no!” I yelled and grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? He doesn’t make this decision.” I pointed a finger at Fate.
He smiled and then pulled away. Lars nodded to Fate and then disappeared up the stairs.
Fate rounded on me as soon as Lars was gone. “What do you think you’re doing?”