Deadly Kisses - By Kerri Cuevas Page 0,13

you punched me it interrupted me from collecting your soul. A part of you stayed trapped in me and a part of me was trapped in you. I want my soul back and I want to know why you would make a deal with the Devil that would do such an awful thing.”

She didn’t respond.

“My soul can’t stay with you.” I walked toward her, sucked in my breath, and put my shoulders back. She did the same. Bee was brave when it came to something she believed in, like saving herself from death.

I stopped in the middle of her room, between the end of her bed and the pink fuzzy rug. Her aura blazed a deep red with a muddied red that clouded it. Orange speckled throughout it like splatters of paint. It indicated strong-will, confidence, anger—survival.

“Let’s get one thing straight, death boy.” She poked me in the chest and jabbed a rib bone. “I’m going to set the rules here. Got it?”

“Listen, girl, my name’s not death boy. Don’t call me that, and if I were you I would be doing everything I could to stay on my good side.” A spear of pain hit me. I backed away. My cold soul in her swirled in anticipation, empowering her with energy, and it purred the closer I got. I didn’t understand why our souls reacted with fireworks, but they ached for physical contact. Bad.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least tell me your name.” Her legs shook. I couldn’t believe she was trying to make deals with a Grim Reaper.

I didn’t mean to growl, but it came out in a deep rumble. My plans for being impersonal were going down the drain—fast. “Ad.”

“Is that your name? Ad? That’s a strange name.”

“Whatever.” My heart raced in panic mode. She couldn’t know who I was. I couldn’t let her get close to me.

“Fine, be rude. It’s so not nice to meet you.” She tucked the blanket under her armpits. The cold she felt was coming from my soul inside of her. “You want your soul back, and I’m not going to give it to you.”

“You shouldn’t act so tough. It’s not like you, and it makes your cheeks puff out like a blowfish. Death is at your door and waiting around every corner. Just keep in mind that I’m your Grim Reaper. I hate to brag, but I’m damn good at it, so don’t think you can run from me or something.”

“I don’t look like a blowfish, but you look like a soulless, hollow sack of bones. Don’t ever associate us in the same sentence.”

I walked to her, my six-foot height hovering over her. I knew she could taste my black licorice soul on her breath. We were so close my cold breath brushed up against her pale skin.

“You wouldn’t.” Her voice cracked, fear pooling her brown eyes to almost black.

Of course I wouldn’t, but she didn’t need to know. I pulled my hand out of the sleeve and she gasped. Brown and reddish ligaments wrapped around bones and a rotted meat smell seeped into my nose. I brought my hand close to her and she moved back. Her body pressed as far as it would go against the wall. “Don’t you dare, or I won’t tell you anything.”

I had to try to get my soul back and she had to tell me why she could see Grim Reapers. Maybe some fresh air would make her relax. “Let’s go for a little stroll.”

I grasped her arm and pulled. Bee staggered before catching her footing. She shuddered when she looked down at the hand that touched her.

“No! You said you weren’t going to kill me. You even try and I’ll never give you your soul back.”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want my soul back right now. Keep it safe for me, will you, honey? Slip those boots and coat on near the door. It’s not cold out, but I assume you feel like it’s the dead of winter. You argue, scream, or do anything to piss me off I’ll haul you over my shoulder and carry you out. I would probably like it. Got it?”

The real me, would never call a girl honey so casually. I hoped I could carry out the façade, but deep down it killed me to make her sad.

Seven

Bee was repulsed by the feel of my bony hand on her, and that made my job somewhat easier. My face was still not a sack of bones—yet.