Ann Aguirre: Mortal Danger

He ran his hands down my back, tugging me closer. His muscles felt lean and strong beneath my hands. Sex was a bad idea, but if he kept touching me, I’d soon be willing to make him my favorite mistake. As if he had the same thought, he buried his face in the curve between my neck and shoulder, breath coming in hot puffs.

“Hurts,” he managed. “How much I want you.”

“I know.” I had the same ache, growing stronger with each brush of his mouth.

With shaking hands, he held me to him. I wrapped my legs around his, only half knowing what I was doing. “Stop. Edie, stop.”

But neither of us did. It felt too good.

“Okay. Okay.” Kian muttered the words, trying to calm down, but I didn’t let go.

“This. Not sex, this.” And I moved, showing him what I wanted, what I could accept.

Our clothes were still on, and I couldn’t breathe for wanting him. He groaned as he rolled on top of me, giving in. It might not be enough for him, but for me—yes. Definitely. I shifted and rocked, until I shivered uncontrollably, unable to believe it could be this wonderful with all of my clothes on. His mouth was on mine, and he arched on top of me, breathing me in. One push, another, quick and convulsive.

“Jesus.” He scattered kisses all over my face.

“This is my promise to you. When I’m eighteen? We’ll revisit this subject.” Not sleeping with him was my way of keeping hope alive and proof that I didn’t accept his fate.

We held each other until it became necessary to clean up. For me that wasn’t a problem, but he showered and changed. His expression when he came out of the bathroom was priceless. Love flooded through me, though science might argue this was only a result of the endorphins.

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love. Another Einstein saying, one of my favorites—and until this moment, I had no idea what it meant.

“You look pleased with yourself,” he mumbled.

“There are a ton of reasons why I shouldn’t be … but at the moment, they all seem really far away.”

“I know what you mean.” He padded to bed, barefoot, and snuggled me against his chest, my favorite place in the world.

As I listened to his heartbeat, a possible solution knocked at the edges of my brain, but I was exhausted. Epiphany danced around the perimeter of my mind, refusing to coalesce. Kian ran his fingers through my hair, a sweet cycle that sent shivers through me. I kissed his shoulder; he made a delicious noise.

“Was that too much?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t have tried to get you to do that … but it was perfect. Are you okay?”

“No virginal remorse on my end. Hey…”

“Hm?”

“Since we watched Casablanca the other night, can we watch Notorious now? You said it’s your other favorite.”

Obviously pleased that I’d remembered, Kian got up to put in the DVD. “This is your chance, ask for anything. It’s impossible for me to say no to you right now.”

Don’t die. Don’t leave me.

But those were cruel favors to ask, not within his ability to grant. And those were the terms, right? What we ask will always be within your power to fulfill. The revelation brightened, like a new light bulb, and then it fizzled and winked out. Dammit. You’re supposed to be smart. Figure out how to help him. He’s in this mess because he cares so much about protecting you. And I couldn’t even get mad at him over it.

“Just the movie.”

“You probably think I’m weird for liking the oldies, huh?”

“No. But I’m curious what got you started on them.”

“Our housekeeper,” he answered, surprising me. “On Saturday nights, she always watched the late show, and I was a lonely kid. At first, it was mostly the thrill of staying up past my bedtime, but I came to love the classics as much as she did.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

He shook his head, and without him saying so, I realized that she was gone. Not like his mother, in and out of rehab. But gone . Like my mom. Rather than say something stupid, awkward, or insensitive, I scooted over, so he could sit next to me. The mattress dipped.

Kian put an arm around me, clicking play on the remote. Ingrid Bergman came to glorious life while Cary Grant was smooth, inscrutable, and charming. They both had undeniable glamour, maybe because I didn’t know about their cheating habits or their secret addictions. Beside me, Kian was smiling, lost in the movie, but every now and then, he kissed my temple, reminding me that we were together.

You are my one true thing, I thought. Always. In time, I might love someone else, if the worst came to pass. But he would never be Kian, and I hoarded these moments like a dragon on a pile of shimmering gold. We watched his favorite film until my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted before I learned whether Devlin loved Alicia.

In my heart, I knew he did, even if he never said the words.

I woke alone.

Immediately I knew that was wrong, and dread cramped my stomach. I rolled out of Kian’s bed and ran to the living room. Foreboding turned to sickness, and I trembled as I padded toward the note taped to the door. Perspectives in the room seemed off, so that the paper got larger and larger, until it loomed bigger than the door, as if it was so heavy that it should pull the door inward into a hole that would swallow them both. Blinking my eyes repeatedly made Kian’s neat handwriting resolve from teary swirls into comprehensible language. I hated this note, even before I read it. But I had to know what it said and what he thought constituted an adequate good-bye.

Edie,

I wasn’t truly alive until I met you. It’s funny how spring always follows winter, even when you’ve given up all hope of ever seeing the sun again. But it rises. “Why does the sun come up, or are the stars just pinholes in the curtain of night?”

At that line, a quote from Highlander , I choked back a sob and it was as if he knew I would react that way as I read on.

Don’t cry for me, but I do hope you’ll remember that we were good together and you were always beautiful in my eyes. From the start, you mattered, even when I was trying to play by their rules. So do me one final favor, if I have the right to ask anything—live for me. Your future is wide open and without me, you’ll achieve remarkable things. I won’t see your potential ruined and you enslaved to Wedderburn. I’d rather die.

There’s one more thing I kept from you, a file I didn’t show you last night. In no future, if you’re with me, do you complete your mother’s work. I’m the sacrifice that must be made. And I’m willing.

You will succeed. You’ll repay the favors. Then your life will be your own. And that’s all I care about now. My time is done, one way or another, so let me choose how I go. I have always, always wanted to be your hero.

Kian

My heart cracked wide, threatening to spill a river of tears. In every way that matters, you’re already my knight in a shiny red car. How can you not know that?

“No,” I said aloud. “Damn you, no, bastard-asshole martyr, I don’t accept this.”

Fury lent me strength; I raced into the bedroom and grabbed my purse. My cell phone tumbled out of the front pocket. As I bent to pick it up, it rang. I recognized Vi’s number, and I knew she must be worried. It had been a couple of days since we’d talked.

Already moving toward the front door, I answered it. “What’s up?”

“Are you all right?”

“What, is your spider sense tingling?” Classic question parry since I didn’t want to worry her. She knew little about my actual life, but it warmed me that she cared. My red winter coat was hanging in the closet in the foyer; I shrugged into it and exited Kian’s building.