I never stopped to wonder what souls are made of. I trusted in a church, in an institution full of corrupt men, in a world dominated by corrupt men. I trusted on blind faith that our souls were knit by something greater than us. Maybe that's true. Maybe it's not. I'm dead, so I would think the answers would come to me, that the truth would be evident. But suddenly, none of that matters. Whatever our souls are made of, it's a magical thing... a fabric that can bend without breaking.
I have a body, but I don't know if it's my body... I think I left that behind somewhere. I'm just mist and light now, nothing corporeal, nothing tangible... and yet, he's able to kiss me.
It's not just a kiss, though. It's a reunion, the acceptance of everything that has happened as bringing us to this point, bringing us back together.
And I lose myself in it.
Chapter 8
Noah
Idon'tknowhowany of this is possible.
I've been dead for over a year; I've watched the world change around me, completely oblivious to my existence. Time has moved on and the world has continued turning, and I've tried to reach out to her, to my mother, to anyone who stood half a chance of seeing me and acknowledging that I was real. Her dog is the closest I've gotten to someone seeing me, and I don't know if she realized she was curling up beside me the way she always did from that first time I went to Nikki's house, or if she just chose a spot that was comfortable.
I've screamed, I've cried, I've thrown things. None of it has ever had any effect, never accomplished anything other than the occasional shiver as I ran my fingers along Nikki's bare arm or pressed a kiss against the back of her neck. I thought I'd never feel anything physical again; I'd have kissed her the moment she appeared before me if I had realized I'd be able to feel her.
I'd cry if I didn't want her to stop and pull away from me. If she does, I'm not sure how I'll survive it. Going so long without being able to feel, to touch, to taste... it's been hell. I thought thatmaybe that's where I was at first, stuck in a hell designed just for me as I stood in that fucking church I hated so much, watching people mopping my brains up off the floor.
When I realized that I could move, that I could go anywhere I wanted, I realized there was no way this was hell. Not if I still got to see her.
Even without the ability to touch her, to feel her soft skin or her warmth beneath me, to appreciate the feeling of her lashes fluttering against my chest as she fought not to fall asleep... even without all of that, I knew this place couldn't be hell. I knew I was waiting for her, just the way I knew the first time I saw her that she was the pinnacle of my life.
Now, it's like she's loving me back to life. I feel her, just the way I always did... no, deeper than I always did. I feel her soul more obviously, bared to mine with nothing left to separate us.
"Noah..." She sighs my name, kisses me with it, and everything in me melts.
I don't know how long this tenuous magic will last; we've already lost so much time. I deepen our kiss, breathing her in, absorbing her. When she doesn't object, I plant one hand on the back of her head, holding her against me, and the other against her cheek, needing to feel her in the space that's been void too long.
Somehow, despite no longer being alive, we're real... flesh and blood. And as I kiss her deeper and she tips her head back to grant me access to explore more of her, I take it. I take everything she lets me, and with each quickened breath, each moan that crests from either of us, we become more real... blood rushing, skin heating, hearts pounding.
I used to wish I could love people back to life... my grandma, my dog, Nikki's dad. Hell, as much as I am enjoying having her with me, I'd love her back to life if I could. She's too young to die,had too much to do. I know I can't undo what death has done, but why does it feel like we are?
The smallest moan slipping out of her throat is the nail in the coffin of my restraint; I lift her beneath her bottom, and she eases into the contact, letting me hold her as I walk her up the steps. I wish we had a proper bed for what we're about to do... she deserves that. But I won't take her on the floor like fucking animals... like they did.
Watching what they did to her made me fucking rage. Seeing Brant and Cole drug the eggnog before Alice and Peanut even got there, before Nikki did.
I tried harder than I've ever tried to knock that bowl over, to throw it, to grab it, to tip it over. I summoned every ounce of willpower, I summoned rage, I cleared my head and focused on nothing other than spilling it to try and keep them from poisoning them, but it was all fruitless. I've never been able to touch anything since the night I died.
But now as I move with her to the altar, I sweep my free arm against the candles that are unlit in their sconces, and the motion sends them crashing to the floor with a tinny clatter. I lay her out before me without ever taking my lips from hers, afraid that we'll lose this connection if we break apart too long, cradling her head as we settle with her on her back, a glorious offering for me. A feast for my starving soul.
"I need you." She whimpers, pulling her lips from mine just enough that I can see the desperation in her eyes, the need.
"You have me." I promise. She always did. She always will.
"No. I need all of you. I need this... more."
The fire in her eyes is unashamed, unafraid... certain. But still I have to ask.
"Are you sure?"
None of us in this town are perfect, despite what certain people would have you think. We tried to obey the church andlive to a set of principles, and we may not have gotten them all right. But one of the things that had been important to us was waiting until marriage. It had made sense at the time, when we were alive. We didn't saveeverythingfor marriage, and we had plenty of fun together doing other things, exploring boundaries and testing them without ever crossing that particular one.
And then I watched our friend fucking steal that from us, first when he killed me, and again when he violated her.
"I've always been sure."
It's all the consent I need to slip the thin straps of her silky dress down her shoulders, exposing her to me bit by bit. The sharp bones of her clavicle, her smooth skin, unblemished by death, her soft breasts and dusky nipples which tighten beneath my fingers, the most extraordinary thing I've ever felt. I slip the dress down to her hips and let the fabric pool there while I take my time exploring the canvas of her body, touching, tasting, licking, absorbing her every reaction.
