Deadly Kisses - By Kerri Cuevas Page 0,6

turned on her back. I froze again.

She smiled and her lips went into a thin straight line. Heat radiated from her body and hit me in waves. It wasn’t normal for me to feel warmth without a reaped soul, let alone it streaming out from people. I tried to ignore the warmth, but it made me feel alive and drew me to her.

I couldn’t help but stand next to her bed, staring at her as I soaked up every ounce of warmth. She was like standing on the summit of Mount Monadnock at high noon, like eating greasy pizza at The Cheshire, like the lyrics to a new song flowing through me after writing the chords.

I raised my head to the stucco ceiling and held my arms out. I could have stood there all night basking in her warmth, but my cell phone vibrated and beeped. I fumbled through my cloak and tossed the heavy fabric until my hand reached it, turning it off. The girl moved but didn’t wake.

With every step I took, she twitched and moaned. The darn floor was too squeaky. The walk to her bed was slow.

I hovered over her and had the urge to touch her face, but I was scared to get lost in the consuming warmth she oozed. I brought my body closer to hers, the sleeves of my cloak sat heavy on her sheets. I was careful to be slow and quiet.

The sweet smell of warm honey coming from her skin made me want to taste her. I brought my lips inches from hers and kept my eyes open, so she wouldn’t be scared when I drank her soul. She had liked my blue eyes and told me they were like the sky on a June day chasing away the winter snow. Maybe she would recognize them.

I let my lips rest on hers. Their warmth flooded me. I wanted to take her mouth in mine, but I just held my lips to hers, savoring what I never had in life. It was what I always wanted. I was cheated of my life.

Electric tingles sparked from us and danced. I shuddered when her warmth covered my cold. She smelled so good. The scent of flowers blossomed from her hair.

Her heartbeat matched pace with mine, but time was almost up. I felt my soul stir. It itched to be close to hers, to take it inside me for safekeeping. Its warmth made me feel alive.

My soul crept up into my mouth. It overpowered my breath with a black licorice taste. I didn’t want the feel of her lips on mine to end, but it was time. Death was minutes away. I had kissed many people as a Grim Reaper, but her touch would be forever with me. Soft, silky, and hot.

I started to draw in her breath. Her soul resisted. I drew again and it sent hot embers into my mouth. I tried not to break free. I’d been told no soul could resist. I drew up more scalding hot and it burned the lining of my throat. This was very bad. My heart raced.

I drew in deeper, my throat now a fiery inferno, and a flashback of my death began. Sweat beaded at my brow. I forced the flashback away. I had to kill her. I loved her. She would go to the Golden Gate and it would be okay. I didn’t want to fail at my reap and be sucked into the River of Lost Souls. It was almost over. Only one more breath to go and her heart would stop beating.

Oh God, the flashback again. Images of the road and bridge came in quick, broken pictures. The crack of the tree snapping and glass shattering droned in my ears. I pushed away the memories because I had to finish the job and kill the girl. Her soul was right at the tip of my lips. I felt the slow pace of her heart, her blood cooling. She tasted like Sweet Tarts and vanilla.

Two hands grabbed the edge of my hood. The flashback stopped. I jerked back and lost my touch on her lips. With her hands still on me, she gasped and managed to suck back in most of her soul, and mine, before she punched me right in the face.

Well, this was new.

I wasn’t sure what was happening. My head throbbed. I had failed to kill her. I could feel her soul in me, warm and tingly, and my mouth