“Yeah. You were the first bean sidhe I heard sing for someone’s soul, other than my mom, but I didn’t realize that was you when Nash first introduced us. Do you remember seeing me in the hospital that first time?”

I shook my head, searching my memory but coming up empty. I must have been medicated. Or… “Maybe you were invisible.”

“I was. But you saw me anyway. You looked right at me, and the only way I’ve been able to explain that is that maybe I wanted to be seen by you—just you—even way back then.” His hand tightened around mine, and it was hard to believe I was facing death, when I felt so incredibly alive in that moment.

“Will you be there when it happens?” I blurted, caving to impulse, and his smile faded slowly at the grim reminder. “I don’t want my dad or Emma to see me die, but I don’t want to be alone, either. So…will you stay with me until it’s over? Please?”

For one horrible moment, I was afraid he’d say no. Afraid I’d asked too much from a relationship less than eighteen hours old. Then he leaned forward to kiss the corner of my mouth and whisper into my ear.

“Kaylee, I would do anything for the girl who granted my dying wish.”

19

Tod called in sick to work, and we spent the next two hours on my couch, tangled up in each other both physically and emotionally. All at once, it felt like we were going too fast—like I was racing down the final hill on a massive roller coaster, determined to savor every intoxicated heartbeat—yet we couldn’t go fast enough. Because there wouldn’t be enough time.

I would never get to finish this ride with Tod—never fully explore this bond I’d discovered too late—and we both knew it. All we could do was live in the moment. So that’s exactly what we did. We lived in every single electrifying moment of the connection consuming us both, but destined to burn out early.

Between kisses that echoed and scalded the length of my body, I told him what it was like to save a life, and he told me what it was like to take one. I told him I was afraid of losing control—of being devoured by someone else’s will—but he already knew that. He told me he was afraid of being forgotten—of fading from humanity and simply ceasing to exist—but I already knew that.

Tod whispered his secrets, and I swallowed them whole, then fed him with my own. My hands wandered and his explored, waking in me cravings and impulses like I’d never felt. I wanted things—I wanted him—not out of curiosity and deadline-driven determination, but out of a raw need to experience all of him. To know and be known like never before. To share everything I had and everything I would ever be with him. And for the first time, the strength of my own hunger didn’t scare me. Because it was my hunger.

Then, finally, Tod groaned, pulling away to sit up on the couch, his hand splayed across my stomach, over the material of my shirt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not a damn thing.” He brushed one curl backfrom his forehead, eyes churning with a craving that surely mirrored my own. “But I need a break.”

“Why?” I sat up, frowning.

“Because you feel really good, and I haven’t done this in a long time. Not since I died. So I kind of need to stop or…not stop.”

Then I understood, and my face burned so hot my cheeks could have been on fire. “Oh. I’m sorry.” Embarrassed, I put both hands over my face, but Tod pulled them down gently, and his blue-eyed gaze met mine.

“You’re embarrassed by proof that I want you? If either of us should be embarrassed by this, it’s me. But I’m not. I just need to cool down, so I can want you again in a few minutes.”

The blaze in my cheeks turned inward, scalding a trail down my center to points lower, until I thought my body would roast itself alive if he didn’t stop looking at me like that. Yet I hoped he’d never stop looking at me like that.

Tod laughed, and I groaned when I realized he’d seen what I was thinking—a twist of overheated blue?—in my eyes.

“How ’bout some lunch?” he said, and I stood, grasping at the offer of a distraction.

“I think we have some sandwich stuff…”

He followed me into the kitchen, and pulled open the fridge, then bent to investigate the meat drawer. “Just give me a minute. I’ll think about cold cuts.”

I burst into laughter. I couldn’t help it.

“Cold cuts are funny?” He stood, and I shook my head, still laughing behind one hand.

“I was thinking about something else,” I said, but he only watched me, waiting for an elaboration. “Em wanted to know if blood flow would be an issue for you, and now I can tell her that it’s definitely not a problem.”

Tod frowned, but good humor swirled lazily in his eyes. “I’m dead, not impotent. Nasty rumors like that must be quashed before they gain momentum. Feel free to emphasize how very functional I am.”

I laughed again, setting a loaf of bread on the counter while he sniffed a package of sliced ham. “How functional are you? And on a completely unrelated subject, if I get kissed for stupid arguments, what would happen if I did something really bad?” His pale brows rose, and his irises twisted faster. “How bad are we talking?”

“I don’t know. Failing to correct inaccurate, sexually defamatory rumors?”

“That would be bad.” Tod dropped the ham on the counter and pulled me closer, pressing me against the closed refrigerator door, and a spark shot up my spine and set fire to my lungs. “I think I’d have to take the situation in hand.” His right hand found my left one and his fingers intertwined with mine. His skin was warm against my palm while the fridge was cold against the back of my hand. With him pressed against me—all of him—I could feel how much he still wanted me. And that knowledge was exciting. Intoxicating.