Accidentally...Over?(12)

Over time, Dr. Hernandez, the local psychiatrist, got Ashli to see  things more logically. The "premonition" had been nothing more than a  coincidence, and Ashli couldn't blame herself for dismissing it as such.  But she still couldn't shake the feeling that she'd cheated death, and  she began having wild dreams. The man wanting her. Death hunting her.  Sometimes, she even saw her parents-they yelled at her for visiting  them. Regardless, she still liked seeing them.

But this? This was no dream. Death was real. Even now, she smelled his  scent in the air and felt his energy buzzing about the room.

What was she going to do?

You're not afraid of Death, Ashli. No, she really wasn't. In fact, she'd grown irritated by this game.

Ashli watched the nurse leave and then blurted out, "I know you're  there. I can smell you." She closed her eyes and tried to keep her  nerves steady, expecting to hear that seductive, masculine voice that  had such an effect on her.                       
       
           



       

Silence.

Her eyes snapped open and searched the room. "Cat got your tongue, huh?  Okay, well, I just want you to know that I think you are a sick bastard.  And I can't wait to get home so I can get in one more good smack. But  this time, I'm aiming for your balls. If you have any."

"Sanctum infernum, woman," said that oh-so-deep, alluring voice. Despite  the anticipation, his timbre still sent goose bumps charging over her  skin. And his smell. It was far more scrumptious than any holiday muffin  she'd ever had. Why did Death insist on having the sublime voice and  scent of an angel of seduction? Seemed so unfair.

"What did I ever do to you?" he added with shock.

Oh, cute. Death is playing the "oh, my pride is so wounded" game. "Do you really need me to answer-"

The nurse appeared in the doorway. "You called, señorita?"

"Uh …  no. I was just …  singing." To prove her point, she moved her feet  like windshield wipers beneath the white sheet. "La cucaracha. La  cucaracha …  ya no puedo caminar." Oh, God. I have lost my mind.

The nurse cocked a brow and reached for the door. "The doctor will be right in."

The moment the door shut, a deep chuckle radiated from the corner, next  to the green plastic molded chair placed there for visitors.

"What's so funny?" she asked. I can't believe I'm talking to Death.

"Nothing," he said all too innocently. "I was simply enjoying your choice of music."

Ugh! "It was the first song that popped into my head-hey, can we quit the chitchat and get this over with?"

Silence.

"What?" she barked. "What are you waiting for?"

The voice emanated from the space immediately to her side. "I do not know what you mean," he said.

Infuriating! Death was playing with her. "Do it already. Okay!" She closed her eyes and braced for the inevitable.

"What in the devil's name are you talking about, woman?"

She opened one eye and then snapped it shut again. "Waiting for you to take me."

"Mmmm … " he said. "As much as I'd enjoy that, because you are a very  lovely woman, I do not believe this is the appropriate place. That bed  is much too small for a man of my size."

Wha-wha-what? She sat up to berate him, but her brain pulsed with a crippling ache. She grabbed the sides of her head instead.

"Lie back down," the voice commanded. She felt two warm-no, they were  actually kind of hot and tingly-hands, one on the front of her chest and  the other on the back of her neck. The sensation was elating.

Death touched her and she …  liked it? Yeah, she did. She liked his smell  and his voice, too. It was almost impossible to explain because she'd  never experienced anything like it; being next to him felt like being …

Home.

What's wrong with me?

Maybe she secretly longed for death. Yes! That had to be it. My soul must be ready to cross over.

He removed his hands, and she instantly felt the loss. She wanted him to touch her again.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'm ready. I didn't think dying would be so  easy, but I have to admit, you really do make it nice. Must be that  voice."

"What the sanctum infernum are you speaking about?" he said, his voice gruff.

"Hey, I was just starting to feel okay with this. Stop being such an  ass, and kill me already. Especially if you're going to start speaking  Latin. It's such an annoying language. Makes you sound like a wannabe  wizard."

She felt a small pain on her hand. "Did you just …  flick me?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes, I did. And the next time you speak to me that way, human, I  will be flicking your bare ass with the palm of my extremely large,  extremely powerful hand."

Had Death threatened to spank her? What the hell? "You just try it. I  don't care if you are Death. No one spanks a grown woman. That's totally  machista and lame."

"Death? I am not Death."

"Oh, sure. Like I'm going to believe anything you say."

"I am incapable of lying. It is not in my nature."                       
       
           



       

Ashli burst out laughing, which really hurt. Ouuuuuch!

"Do not mock me, woman. I speak the truth. Why would I drive you to the hospital if I wanted you to die?"

Good question. "Um. Because you're a sick bastard who's been playing  with me for years, stalking me in my slee-Wait. You drove me here?"

"That is correct. And do you have any idea how hard it is for a male of  my proportions to drive such a tiny vehicle? I am seven feet in height. I  scarcely fit behind your steering wheel. I will also highlight that you  should park your car in the shade. My ass is still burning."

Ashli blinked. This wasn't happening. She had to be dreaming this up. "Your …  uh …  ass?"

"Well, yes," he said. "Merely because you cannot see me doesn't mean that I do not have an ass. One with feeling."

So why was he complaining about his ass? Unless …  She started laughing,  rubbing her hands over her face. "Oh, this is juicy. Death is stalking  me. And he's a seven-foot-tall naked guy with the voice of an angel and  smells like fresh mountain air mixed with holiday baked goods."

"You like my voice?" he said with eager curiosity.

The doctor entered the room, startling Ashli.

"Buenas tardes, Ashli." She knew Rubin, aka Dr. Ruiz, because he came by  the coffee shop all the time. He was in his late thirties with a lean  build and a very charming smile. Her cleaning lady also took care of his  house and loved to gossip about all of the random women who showed up,  bearing gifts of homemade cookies, cakes, pozole, and tamales. There  wasn't a single woman in town who hadn't tried to snag him. Except  Ashli, of course. What was the point of dating or falling in love when  death loomed over you? Didn't seem practical. Or fair to the guy.

"Hi, Rubin," Ashli said.

"Ashli, lovely to see you as usual." Rubin leaned over her and flashed  his penlight in her eyes. "You lost a little blood and have a  concussion. I suggest you stay here for the remainder of the afternoon,  but you should be fine." He flicked the IV bag with his finger. "Do you  have someone to drive you home?"

Ashli shook her head no. Owwww. Don't do that.

Rubin glowed with a smile. "Then it would be my pleasure to take you after my shift."

"Are you sure?"

"I've waited a very long time to have the elusive Ashli Rosewood all to myself." He winked.

Strange. It wasn't like Dr. Ruiz to be overtly flirtatious. He had asked  her out once on a run, but that was over a year ago. She'd politely  declined, making up some excuse, but hadn't really thought much of it.  Rubin continued to come by every few days, drink his coffee, and read  his paper. Being the sort of man that was more into himself than anyone  else, he'd never made an effort. Not that it would have made a  difference. She didn't date. But now, he was flirting big-time.

"I will be back to check on you shortly," he said. "Let us know if you  need anything for the pain, back rub, candlelit bubble bath, the key to  my house. The numbing shot I gave you will begin to wear off shortly."

"Uh, I'm good?" And speechless.

Rubin eyeballed her, grinning like a fiend.

"Really. I'm good," she repeated.

The doctor and his creepy smile exited the room rear end first.

"Slimy bastard is going to get a visit from my foot up his ass. What  sort of doctor hits on his patient?" said the deep voice in a tone so  stark it made her heart palpitate.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing," he said. "You and I need to talk. I must understand the  nature of your comments. Why do you believe that Death has been stalking  you?"