Page 22 of Haunted Hearts

“What happened?” I shiver as past emotions, rather than clear memories, remind me of the unpleasantness of it all. “Were you there?”

Brock’s smile fades. “I was there and saw it all.”

“How did you know I was in the Realm of the Dead, and how’d you find me?” I pause. “What happened to Fulton?”

Brock’s face twists with regret. “There’s a lot to go over. Why don’t we go back inside where you can be close to the others in case you start to lose yourself again and we can discuss this when you feel—”

“I’m fine right where I am,” I cut him off. I’mnotgoing back inside. Not when this fresh air is keeping the panic at bay. “Tell me.”

My reaper sighs.

“Well, at the very least, let’s get you some food and tell someone where you are. Your friends are particularly protective of you. I don’t think they trust me enough to believe I won’t sweep you away from here and them, to keep you for myself.”

I’m sure most would find the thought of being whisked away by a reaper frightening. But Brock ismyreaper. I feel the rightness of it just like I can feel the crisp air all around me. I’m not scared of him, nor do I absolutely hate the idea of being swept off my feet by this handsome man. Purposefully, I commence with a full appreciative sweep up and down the reaper before me, meeting his gaze with a smile. Brock’s eyes flare with heat as he grins at me.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Without even thinking about it, I answer, “Without a doubt.”

He hums thoughtfully as he cups my face with his free hand. I let out a shaky breath as my heart does a backflip.

“I’ve dreamed of meeting you since the moment you ripped the Veil open for the first time,” he mutters, his eyes returning to meet mine. “Do you remember?”

It had been my first time attempting a mass crossing of souls. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I had to dosomethingfor them.

“Yes.”

“I’ve never seen the Veil open from the other side, nor have I ever seen it open so wide. The world around me trembled so hard I thought the Realm of the Dead was about to crumble in. I turned around, ready to get out of there, but that’s when I saw you.”

He pauses as he bends down and presses his forehead against mine.

“Without a doubt, you were the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on,” he whispers. “And I knew, right in that moment, that you were meant for me and I for you. That rightness clicked into place, and from then on, I followed that bond. Though time and space are different in each realm, I managed to stick with you, mirroring your movements on this side. I watched you for years, Willow Harvest, and listened to the stories that spirits told of you and your kindness to them. All this time, I’ve craved to interact with you in any way. To talk, listen… toholdyou.”

I reach up to cup his cheek, never breaking eye contact, the rightness he speaks of hums between us.

“Now that you’re here, I want nothing more than to sweep you away, just as your friends fear. I want to keep you for myself where I can cherish you.” He pauses, a dark glint flickering in the depths of his brown eyes. “I’ll admit, not all my thoughts have been pure. So maybe it’s a good thing your friends are here to make sure I behave. Because I’ve had a long time to think about all the things that I’d like to do to you once you were in my arms.”

His eyes drop to my lips. In that brief moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. Rather than kiss me, Brock straightens and steps away from me.

“Let me take care of you as best I can now. I’ll get you some food and while you eat, I’ll fill you in on what you’ve missed.” He grimaces. “Actually, why don’t I tell youafteryou’ve eaten? You may lose your appetite otherwise.”

My heart sinks. “It was that bad?”

“I won’t lie to you,” Brock’s brows slide together with concern. “It’s not going to be easy to hear, but for everything that happens from here on out, I’m here with, and for you.”

My dread eases as I smile up at him. “Yeah?”

He smiles back. “Yeah, baby girl. From here on out, I’ll be by your side.”

Chapter8

BROCK

I’m holding the hand of my woman.

It’s such a simple touch. Yet it’s taking everything in my power to keep from shaking with the heavy combination of nerves and excitement. To keep from embarrassing myself by doing something stupid, like scooping her up and kissing her senseless, I guide her back inside and down the hallway.

It annoys me that I have to take her back tothem. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d be happy to sweep her away from here. Evidence of the hell she’s gone through still lingers, days after her murder. The heavy bags under her eyes and the slight, yet constant tremor running through her are just a few signs she’s inwardly suffering. When her hand squeezes mine as her body sways, I still, ready to grab her in case she falls. But Willow is resilient and stubborn. She squares her shoulders and shoots me a challenging look. Her chin juts out, as if she’s expecting me to say something about the sign of her weakness.

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