Page 19 of Haunted Hearts

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Slight vibrations against my cheek pull me from my sleep.

Soft snoring lifts me even further away from slumber. Is it hot in here? Sweat beads along the back of my neck as I drag in a shaky breath. That breath isn’t satisfying. I need air. My eyes fly open as I gasp for the air that I need. Everything is fuzzy at first, but as I blink the sleep away and sit up, the world comes into focus.

The room I’m in is as beautiful as it is unfamiliar.

The circular room is made up of large stone walls. Parts of the walls are covered with large murals or tapestries, while others are left blank. There is a set of double doors, far across the room from me, and two single doors on the adjacent walls. Above me, over the draping, silky cloth that hangs from the four-poster frame of the bed, is a ceiling that has to be at least twenty feet high. Dangling from the center of it is a fancy crystal chandelier capturing the light slipping through the drapes that cover large windows.

Where the hell am I?

My wonderment is stalled, however, when I look around tofind that I’m not alone. Kwil has his leg thrown over my waist and is fisting the material of the robe I’m wearing. On my other side, Viktor is softly snoring, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. On the other side of Viktor, Jonah has stolen most of the covers and has wrapped himself up into a thick cocoon of down comforter. You’d think four people, two of them massive in stature, would make the bed feel small, but the mattress could easily hold up to nine or ten people comfortably.

My mouth twitches up into a smile. That would be a few too many bodies for me to handle.

The amusement fades when I realized that the four bodies in bed could easily turn into three.

I could split apart and fade away and they would never know. The thought brings on a wave of panic. My hand slaps over my mouth to muffle a squeak of terror. Swallowing hard, I untangle myself from the limbs around me and climb out of bed. My breathing comes in hard gasps as panic continues to well up. My heart slams against my ribs. I trip and mentally swear. What if I stumble and fall, only to break into pieces and get caught up in the nothingness again?

No, no, no, I can’t let that happen!

Without giving it much thought, I rush over to the door and throw it open. Just outside the bedroom is a space bigger than most of the places I have ever lived. There is a large living area with three long couches, a few sets of wingback chairs clumped in groups of two or three situated strategically around the room, a massive stone fireplace that’s dark at the moment, and a billiard table.

All on one side of the room.

On the other is a beautifully ornate, round wooden table. A vase of simple white flowers sits right in the middle of it. There is a wine rack that must be nine feet tall and just as wide, situated along the stone wall beyond the table. Each slot is filled with a bottle. Beside it sits a small rolling cart with fruit and pastries on a platter, and what appears to be orange juice in a glass pitcher.

Where… whereamI?

I can’t breathe. This is too much. Despite the tall ceilings and wide-open space, I feel it all caving in on me. Stumbling across the space, I somehow make it to the other set of double doors. With an unnecessarily hard pull, I open the door and rush headfirst out of the fancy, albeit medieval, looking apartment.

And right into the arms of someone.

“Willow?” A vaguely familiar voice says. “Are you alright? What are you doing up? Where are the others?”

I lift my head to look up into the stranger’s face, and freeze. The first thing I notice about him is how drop-dead magnificent he is. His smooth skin is a deep rich brown, he has a thick brow and a strong jawline. His mohawk of dreads are pulled up into a wild ponytail, but I have a feeling they’d fall just past those wide shoulders of his. The second thing I notice is that there is an air of familiarity between us that goes far beyond looks. I don’t have to see him with his dark robe on or holding his scythe to know who this is.

My reaper.

And if he’s holding me in his arms, that means only one thing. That I’m dead. Like,reallydead. The thought surprises me. I’ve been so worried about not falling to pieces, that it hasn’t hit me that Idiedat some point between Everlast and waking up here.

And if I’m dead, then Kwil, Viktor, and Jonah, who were all sound asleep in the apartment behind me, must be dead too. Theo must be somewhere around here also. If he wasn’t, I know the bond between us would hurt.

The blood rushes from my face as reality sets in. We’realldead.

The thought of dying never scared me. Besides my dad being who he is and always knowing there wassomethingon the other side for me, dying seemed like the most natural thing that could happen to someone. But getting to this state in such a violent, chaotic way and finding that the people I love are somehow dead, too? It’s a lot to pile on my already full plate.

Tears swell up as regret, sorrow, and despair bear down on me.

“Hey now, baby girl, don’t cry,” my reaper wraps me up in his arms and pulls me into his chest. “Everything is alright now.”

Is it though? My men are dead because of me. Because I got captured and brought here, they found their end sooner than they should have. How can they ever forgive me? And what of Fulton? What happened to him? Did the others manage to kill him, or is he running around the Realm of the Dead? My head swims with fuzzy memories. Everything is a jumbled mess of images that are out of focus. I can’t even remember how we ended up here.

Whereishere?

The fact that I don’t even know where I am sends another wave of fear and despair through me. I throw my arms around the man in front of me as my tears fall faster. The hard sobs that rock my body are muffled by my reaper’s thick muscular chest.

To my surprise and relief, the reaper wraps his large arms around me and pulls me in closer. His warm embrace helps ease the panic. He’s the rock in my raging storm and I cling to him with all that I have. He says nothing else while I cry it out. In no time, his shirt is soaked with tearstains. It’s the sight of the large watermark that finally snaps me out of my hysteria.

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