Last Chance for Love(6)

A hand slipped between their bodies, and Nick’s entire body clenched. “I need to leave you sated it seems,” she said.

The feel of her lips on his cock was enough to make his head spin, and he fisted a hand in her golden hair, guiding her exactly as he wanted her. “Katie….”

Her tongue trailed across his head, licking him delicately. “This would taste much better with cream on it,” she whispered.

“Just like the strawberries will taste when I eat them off you.”

The dream changed then, as always.

Nick sat in bed waiting for Katie’s return, considering exactly what he was going to do with the strawberries and cream and her luscious little body. The noise of a siren interrupted his sated mind and he frowned, wondering what the problem was. Their area was residential and saw little in the way of siren action.

He dragged on a pair of sweat pants and wandered into the sitting room. Pushing the flowery drapes aside, he looked out and saw that the ambulance was parked down the street. Curious he went out the front door and took a closer look. There, on the corner, was a large Jeep, its front end completely smushed.

Nick whistled below his breath and craned his neck to see if the other car had fared any better. It took the space of a heartbeat before he realized, and then his feet were carrying him down the road, grit and gravel biting into the soles of his feet….

He awoke dripping in sweat, curled up on the couch. Panic hit the moment consciousness did, and it took a moment for him to realize why. He couldn’t feel his fingers or his toes, numbness was creeping up his limbs, snaking its way into his muscles.

Nick knew then that something was seriously wrong. Had known it ever since his vision had started to blur and the fever to rage. He moved across the couch, wondering what course of action to take. But he wondered in an intangible sort of way. The pain confusing him and making everything seem almost surreal.

Another spike of pain inside his brain and he retched. Had there been anything in his stomach it would have come right up, but there wasn’t, and all he could do was convulse against the impulse to heave.

It was pain, numbness, and confusion, and Nick was lost within it all. There was only one small part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in pain or panicking, one small part of him left. It had only one thought. Katie.

Hers was the last thought he carried with him into the blackness.





Chapter Seven





The sight of Nick’s body stretched out on the couch was enough for Ripley’s heart to drop to her feet. The sight of a competitor leaning over him was enough for it to explode.

She pushed open the sitting room door to its fullest arc and ran as fast as she could through the small, familiar room. “Get the hell away from him.”

The competitor cackled and moved closer. Even from a distance of a few feet, Ripley could smell the flames. Like her, he wore black robes but unlike hers they were singed in various places, enough for Ripley to see the charred flesh beneath.

“Mine,” it whispered.

“No,” she shrieked. “Get away from him.”

“You’re too late, Reaper.”

Ripley looked up at the clock, her heart racing so fast she thought it might fly right out of her chest. It was just after eleven. She was too late, one minute thirty fucking seconds too late. Though she’d gained ground on number eighty through to ninety-eight, hurrying them along with a speed that said major guilt, the last soul had been difficult. But then teenagers were in life, why the heck would death change that?

“He belongs to us now.”

If it could have smiled, it would have, and Ripley screamed. “No. You can’t have him.”

“Yeesss.”

Ripley knew what she had to do. She’d done it her first ever Christmas and barely survived final elimination, because few went up against the Reapers of Hell and managed it. She didn’t know what it was about this night that made it so special to them, but something did. It was the one night of the year when they actively went looking for souls to claim, rather than taking those left off the list, and those the over-stretched Reapers were simply unable to collect.

“If you touch him, I’ll finish you,” Ripley said.

“You know the rules, Reaper,” the beast said. “You must be here for the moment the body dies, and the soul becomes aware. You missed it.”

But had she? Ripley looked down at Nick’s body, and her heart broke all over again. He looked different, and not just because he was dead. She could see that the last five years had not been kind to him. His once inky hair was streaked with grey, his face etched with worry lines, and his once hard body had softened. Her death had done that to him. She knew it the moment she thought it and a strange quiver assailed her.

Different he might look, but to her, he was as handsome as he had ever been. She’d missed him so fucking much.

“He’s not aware yet,” she whispered.

“Any moment now,” the beast said.

“But not yet.” Ripley launched herself forward, scythe clenched tightly in her stronger right hand. The Hell Reaper hissed and jumped back, only just missing the swing of her weapon. A clawed hand shot out, and she ducked, the top of her robe taking the brunt and splitting.

“You won’t take him, Reaper,” it shrieked.

“I—” A scream pierced the air, and the blood in Ripley’s soul veins froze into ice. Her attention caught. Nick. His soul had awoken. He was aware.

The beast’s red eyes filled with excitement, clearly realizing this, too, and it kicked out, sending Ripley halfway across the room. She fell against the wall, dropping her scythe, the plaster falling on her already ruined robe.

“Mine, Reaper, mine.”

The beast reached out with its clawed hand and scooped into Nick’s body, looking for the connection between the heart and the soul.

Nick screamed.

Ripley pulled herself up and grabbed the handle of her scythe. She knew that this was her only chance, whilst its attention was on Nick. She pushed forward and in one swift motion swung the scythe. It hit the beast directly on the neck, sending it reeling.

It wanted the soul too badly though to give up and sliced out at her once more. The front of her robe ripped open, and Ripley felt the sting of the claw on her belly. Angered and tired beyond belief, she switched the scythe to her left hand and punched the beast right in the jaw. It staggered backwards, shock in its red eyes.

She swung the scythe again, though with less force, and it caught it in arm, severing the limb. Ripley jumped back, the smell overpowering.

“Go now before I finish you,” she screamed, her raw throat protesting the action. “There are plenty of other souls for you to collect tonight. You’re not having this one.”

It hissed at her, its gaze darting from the blooded scythe to Nick’s body.

“Last chance, hell beast, or I swear to our God I will give you your final elimination.”

Perhaps her words hit home? Perhaps it realized that there were more than enough other souls for it to claim? Either way with one final hiss, it picked up its limb, pulled its robe tight around itself, and slithered from the room.

Swaying slightly, because she was twenty-odd hours into this shift and feeling the pain, Ripley turned around, her gaze finding Nick. His soul was still there, stuck in the body, writhing against and into the connection.

“Nick,” she whispered, and he screamed again.

Ripley dropped to her knees, right into the beast’s pooled gore, her heart pounding, her Reaper’s skin shivering. Yearning filled her, and she looked into Nick’s eyes. The ones she’d missed so damn much. They widened, and for one moment, Ripley thought it was because of her, and her entire being sang, but then she realized the robe was still in place, and understood the truth.

He saw her for what she was.

The Grim Reaper, come to collect his soul.





Chapter Eight





Nick knew the scream was coming from his mouth, or at least he thought it was. Everything felt different though, as if he’d been squashed in some way, and there wasn’t enough room to move. More than that he couldn’t move. Whatever had happened to him had affected his limbs, and he was stuck.

He’d watched, trapped, as the two…whatever the hell they were…things battled in front of him. One emanated darkness, whilst the other seemed to shine with a strange sort of flickering light. A memory stirred suggesting exactly what they might be, but disappeared again when he tried to catch it.

It didn’t make sense. He remembered the numbness, the blurred vision, and the fever and wondered if it had affected his mind in some way.

He closed his eyes, but not really, because they wouldn’t close. It was more that he wanted to and so blackness came and went in the space of a second. When he looked again, one of the things was bending over him. The scream left his mouth before he could stop it, and he was instantly ashamed.

The thing reached out, as if to comfort him but pulled the robe-covered hand back. Nick was grateful for that, not wanting to feel whatever was underneath the cloth. “What’s happening?” he whispered.

“Everything is okay,” the thing said and something clicked in Nick’s mind. The voice sounded almost…familiar?

“Who are you?” he asked. But then the memory solidified, and he knew. The black robe. The scythe clenched in its hand. Fucking hell.