““Evie?” “I want this, Jack! Kiss me.” He did, briefly muting the Reaper, rekindling my excitement. But Death was yelling. —NEVER, CREATURE!— This place was perfect, a moment in time; it should be just me and Jack. Now Death was ruining it. “It’s no use. He doesn’t want us to do this. And I don’t understand why.” “Look at me, Evie. Stay with me.” I gazed up at Jack, peering into his eyes. They were stormy gray, filled with desire, yearning. Even vulnerability. “He doan get a goddamned say, now, does he?” When Jack held my gaze, Death was quieted, the heavy weight of his presence ebbing. —Sievā, do not do this. . . .— See-whatta? Then he faded. Faded to nothing. “His voice is quiet. This is working!” “Then I’m goan to be looking into your eyes when I take you. You hear me?” I nodded, wanting this more than I’d ever imagined I could. He traced his hand between us, lower, lower, dipping his fingers. “So hot,” he groaned. “So perfect. You want this too.” It wasn’t a question.””
