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           Death had skilled hands. Truly, he did. He told me that on many occassions, and those words hadn't failed me yet. He had these long calculated, deftly fingers, which he had used many times against me, and probably many other women, for his own personal gain.

         I'll admit, I always felt a sharp ping of jealousy in my chest simply by thinking about those fingers sliding against someone else's skin, intimately caressing another person, making someone else's head spin and heart pound. The man was thousands and thousands of years old, of course he had...been...with other women. Of course he had...touched...other women, and yet I couldn't ever get it out of my mind that I wasn't the only one he had ever touched.

             It should have been a sin in itself to be embraced by the Angel of Death. To feel such strange and alien sensations from a body part that one rarely even thought twice about. Those slightly rough and deadly weapons at the ends of his hands were unpredictable and merciless, just like the man who wielded them. They could be pure fire one day, fed with his rage and power. Not fire as in hot -- Death's skin was always scolding hot, fire as in alive. When his fingers were fire, his touch melted into the core of your body and an explosion of his awareness would occur, lighting you to flames. Other times his touch was icy and empty, when he could physically touch you yet you would feel no connection to him once so ever. You never knew which touch you were going to get. Everything about Death depended on his mood. Everything about Death was well thought out, complex, and most of the time, paralyzed you. His touch, his presence, his voice, even his gaze, could be everything to you, could draw all of your senses, or be nothing at all.

            Death had always been a conundrum to me, even when I thought I knew him right down to his black soul. Maybe he was one on purpose to scare people away, but I personally always loved a challenge. Also, I personally wasn't always paralyzed by his touch, nor did I always appreciate it. Just saying.

            "GET OFF OF ME!"

            "Only if you say please and rub against me with your pelvis a little harder," the Fallen straddling my hips teased darkly above me, those slit green eyes downright thrilled as they watched me wrangle with my handcuffs. My arms were knotted at an awkward angle behind my back, and a thin sheet of sweat was coating my neck and forehead. I fought to be freed, but nothing was budging but my disobedience. The only way I would be freed would be to obey Death.

            I continued to scream. He stuffed something cottony in my mouth. I prayed it was a t-shirt and not his underwear.

            "It is my underwear. Eat up, princess."

            You BASTARD!

            "Do you honestly believe that I wear underwear? It's a clean rag, relax." Death's laughter thundered against my ear, rattling my skull. He was getting more than a kick out of this. Firmly wrapping his hands around my biceps, he lifted my weight easily onto the bed but you better believe I was struggling. The entire time I was kicking out, trying to nail him right in the pretty face with my foot, and gagging against the cloth in my mouth, hoping I didn't barf.

            I still was convinced it was his underwear.

             Death wrestled me on the bed with his long, sinewy legs intertwining with mine until he finally pinned me down where he wanted me at an unbelievably uncomfortable angle and position with my head wedged under his thick arm. I could smell his soap, spicy cologne, and damn him, even that deodorant that reminded me of the ocean. The awkward position he had me locked in allowed me little access to his face or his crotch. Just the way he wanted it. Death curled his arm around me and unlocked my hands. Now he was vulnerable and my inner animal could attack. I started to bring my claws back to stab him in back with my jagged claws, when I  realized how stupid that would be. My head was still locked under his massive arm. Death's plan was to squeeze my skull like a nut cracker if I so much as scratched him and make me black out. I would heal, then wake up cuffed to the bed. If I didn't fight back, I'd be cuffed to the bed. Either way, I would be cuffed. After a long moment of hissing and cursing on my side, I decided it wasn't worth it to black out and willing gave him my hands.

            My fear was ultimately rape. It was stupid to even consider that with him of all people. Death was evil and ruthless, and a callous jerk, but he would never take advantage of me sexually. He needed my virginity and my pureness, probably didn't trust himself to even get close to sex with me. Plus, men like him, who were too intelligent and too gorgeous for their own good, regardless of his species, wanted to win women over slowly because they had the capability to plan out their conquest. Especially women who didn't exactly get along with them, because they get a thrill out of winning over an unlikely contestant.

            Death reattached my hands to the tall motel bed headboard and tightened the cuffs around my wrists with those skilled fingers. I stared at his dark stubbly jaw, clenching and releasing with--what, anger? Excitement? His expression was blank, I hated that expression because it was unnerving.

            Jerk Face moved some fluffy, stale-smelling motel pillows behind my back, leaving my body in a half-sitting, half-laying down position that would undeniably start to burn my abs. Not bothering to support my neck, the bastard clearly wanted me at least slightly be in pain.

            Death sat back on his heels to admire his work, head tilted to the side like an animal watching its pray, crooked grin revealing jagged white fangs, heavy weight crushing my legs and pinning them down.

            I managed to get the cloth out of my mouth. It was his underwear.

            "Hope you enjoy the peep show, it's all you're ever going to get," I sneered, but deep down, there was a part of me that wanted to cry because I was finally with the man that had been on my mind for two weeks.

            We'll see about that, he never said, then stuffed the cloth so far down my throat that I gagged.

            Those exotic peepers slowly took in every inch of me like they were taking in a buffet. The ratty t-shirt crumbled halfway up my torso almost exposed my breasts, and my stupid short-shorts were an obvious bad choice, being I wasn't wearing any underwear and they were crunched up my ass. A convenient outfit for Death to tie me to the bed in, I know.

            The monster was practically inhaling every inch of my bare skin through its nostrils. The heat flushing my face became so overwhelming powerful that I knew I looked like the inside of a pink grapefruit.

            The Monster leaned forward with a low, ravenous growl. I shut my eyes tightly. I could picture its expression perfectly now. Sultry, sexy lips around a victorious, enormous grin. The bed dipped significantly. I felt its radiating warmth against my exposed skin. If I opened my eyes, the beast would be centimeters away from me. Its minty breath fanned my naked stomach, then crept upwards to my hot face. The monster's forehead fell against mine and heat exploded between our bodies. It inhaled against me slowly, a low rumble rattling its chest and the bed. One hand propped the monster up above me, the other fell to my waist, hotter than a ever before like a single sweltering piece of coal. Its fingers found the insides of my thighs and parted my legs. I jerked wildly under its hand as it suddenly cupped the most private part of me. My toes curled and I bit down hard on the cloth in my mouth.

            "You like that, baby?" the monster asked, its voice rough and throaty. It started to move the heel of its palm against me and my eyes slowly rolled back. The friction the creature was causing as it moved its hand faster and slower against me was unbearable. "Torture, isn't it?" Now it was breathing heavier, mouth parted, watching my reaction to its touch.

            Don't let him mess with you.

            My claws bit into my hands. I tugged hard at the handcuffs, my chest rattling with ferocious growls. He touched me again and my body utterly betrayed me. I threw my head back and whimpered helplessly. We locked eyes, I pleaded for him to stop. I couldn't take it any longer. Just like that, his hand was gone as well as the cloth in my mouth. The monster was gone. The heat remained.

             "Should have gotten rid of the hand cuffs the moment you saw them." Death's voice was controlled, baritone. "Thought they were sex cuffs, didn't you?" He laughed as if that was absurd. "Only in my dreams, princess. Those are special handcuffs, laced with dried up holy water. Lucky you, you can't burn from them. They'll just weaken you because your soul is pure. Me on the other hand? Well let's just say they burned like a bitch to get into this room."

            I found my voice in a seemingly bottomless pit. Every part of me felt it had been burned by his touch. I felt humiliated by my reaction to him, as if he was reminded me how attracted I was to him. "Poor. You," I spat acidly.

            Death watched me for a while, emerald eyes abnormally unblinking. He wasn't human, not in the slightest. "Actually, I'm feeling pretty rich right now. Rich with your... utter humiliation." The monster was muzzled, but it wasn't completely gone. Death sprawled out on the bed next to me, propping his head up with his elbow and smirking down at me. His heavy weight tilted the mattress. I started to fall towards him, my leg touching the inside of his muscular thigh. Quickly moving it away, Death curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh and pressed my leg against him, leaning into me. His muscles were tight and his chest was iron, yet he was my solace, my protector. Fingers played with the ends of my shorts. I shivered violently, fighting the urge to press my face into his shirt and inhale. "Aw, your cheeks are getting all red."

            I turned away from him, burning slowly. He was my killer. I hate you, I thought.

            "Hate?" His mouth was right up against my ear, lips pressing against flesh. I refused to face him. "Hate is such a passionate word, and I can be a very passionate man. We're two peas and a pod then, aren't we?" Death stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, gracefully avoiding my teeth as I instinctually turned and tried to take a chunk out of his flesh. "For example, I'm very passionate when I decapitate my enemies and drop kick their heads across the world. Mmm, decapitation. To behead somebody or something. Isn't that a great word? Delicious, really. Almost better than the word penetrate." He moved his mouth to my ear again. "I bet we can think of a few sentence examples for penetration. I'll act it out for you, but only if you say please and thank-you in that sexy screaming voice you did before."

            Anger boiled. "I hope you're struck down with lightening--!"

            Death covered my mouth with his hand, cradling my head forcibly against his muscular chest. "Shhh, you keep that prized scream locked up tight, that'll be useful later on. You know, electrocution used to be my favorite word of them all. Back when that good shit was legal in every state, I was on that like whipped cream on pie. Nothing like a little jolt to get the blood flowing down south. Know what I'm saying?" Death frowned. "Wait, no, you definitely wouldn't know anything about that. You're a virgin! " He threw his head back and burst out laughing at his own joke for a good give five minutes. Finally, wiped a tear under his eye, laughter fading. "Virgin jokes always get to me, they truly do."

            I was glaring at him with flames in my eyes.

            "Don't look at me like that, hateful little virginal cupcake. I, for one, am perfectly enjoying myself, making you all prickly with awareness of my closeness. Therefore, I restrained you helplessly to the bed and plan on making you beg to release you. Wait...I believe that could be called flirting, unless the definition of the word has fleeted my memory." He snorted. "I blame Fifty Shades of Grey if that's not flirting."

            I lost control, thrashing on the bed until his removed his hand from my mouth.

            "Get these stupid things off of me!" I yanked at the cuffs and flung my legs up from the bed in anger. Death simply draped a single leg over mine, trapping me. "UGH! LET. ME. GO!"

            Death's eyes lit up with excitement. "Hell's horns, that sexy scream is simply riveting. Do it again, but this time say my name and, throw back your head and groan. Like this." He threw back his head and demonstrated. "Come on, I'm sure you've been practicing on the streets with those business men. Let's hear it."

            His eyes flashed momentarily with anger. There he was, the Green Eyed Monster.

            "Unbelievably! All of this, because of jealousy?!" I burst out, panting. "That's honestly what's wrong? You shackled me to a bed, and you're teasing me because I was forced to earn money on the streets? Because you drove me away? Because you missed me? Admit it, you missed me, so you rented the room next door, and you stalked me, and you tied me to this bed because you have the slightest idea how to apologize to me!"

            I could literally hear him grinding his fangs together, feel him fighting to keep it together.

            Thunder rumbled outside.

            "Admit it," I repeated, voice rising. "You missed me! All you feel in your empty, cold heart, is your solitude! You couldn't stand being without me for even a second! You couldn't stand the fact that you would be alone, that the person who ever cared for you in years, left you! The only person stupid enough to care for you, might I add, because you're a huge dick! You have no redeeming qualities at all! That's why you need me!"

            Death's eyes flickered with rage. "Fuck you, Faith Williams," Death said rather calmly, then slid off of the bed. He stood in front of the only window in the room, gazing down into the parking lot.

            "Fuck you right back, buddy."

            "Fuck you more, friend," he hissed like a snake.

            "Don't talk to me like that, prick."

            "Slut."

            "Slut!"

            "You can't call me a slut, I already called you a slut! It doesn't work that way!"

            "I'm a virgin!"

            "You're still a slut, slut!"

            "Yeah, well...you're a boob!"

            "I'm a boob? Wow. You just insulted yourself all by yourself with that one, sweetheart," he hissed. "You should get a reward."

            "I already got two," I drawled out sarcastically, jiggling my handcuffs and flipping him off with both of my middle fingers.

            Death pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Slut."

            I growled.  "You said it yourself," I said curtly, sitting up on the bed and stretching out my legs. "You don't feel anything. You feel nothing. That's why you could never love me back, and that's why I don't love you anymore. You drove me away. Why are you even here, Death? To what, ask for forgiveness? I'll save you the trouble, I don't forgive you. I'll never forgive you. All I've done all of my life is forgive, and I'm tired of it! I'm tired of being pushed around. And you can call me a bitch all that you want for telling you the truth, that you'll always be alone from here on out, even when I'm gone, but just remember that you made me the way I am today, and give yourself a nice slap on the back!"

            "GOD DAMNIT!" In the blink of an eye, Death dropped his cigarette and stormed across the room, bashing his fists into the wall over and over again until there was a huge hole. Each blow against the room had me jerking up off the bed, startled. Once he was done, his wide shoulders were curled inwards  and his chest heaved up and down wildly. The monster was surfacing. Bracing his arms against the wall, his head fell in-between his shoulders. "I know I did this to you, Faith. I know I ruined your life, but don't say that you can't forgive me when you're the most sympathetic person that I know. After all of the shit I've been through over the years, I've stopped trusting people and forgiving people, and now I can't go back to the way things once were, and I'm an absolute mess. When I had a choice to forgive, I was happy. Those things that you won't just forgive and forget, no matter how small they are, they stick with you for the rest of your life. The things that you don't forgive compact together and they gnaw at you every single day until you want to scream at the top of your lungs or throw yourself from a building. I won't let you be like that."

            "What do you mean, leaving me? You're not who's going to die, Death! You only said that you're dying to get me to come back to you. My fate is set in stone. You said it yourself, you had a dream of killing me and my time is running out. I whiles well die not caring about anyone or anything--"

            My words were cut off by the Fallen's body crushing me against the bed, his hands braced on either side of me. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rose at his closeness. "You're wrong," he began in a whisper. "You're wrong about your fate being set in stone, and you're wrong about me feeling nothing." Death's lips were a breath away, his eyes boring into mine. I tried to peel away his exterior, seeking sincerity, and once again couldn't get deep enough to unravel the riddle right before my eyes. "I don't feel nothing. Nothing can't describe an emotion, it's a word that's weak and deflective. I feel everything, Faith. I feel it all, and most of the time, I feel it all at once like an avalanche. What scares me is how you make me feel. I told you that I feel nothing, that I'm empty, because we don't have enough time for me to prove to you that I'm not just an empty shell of the man that I used to be. I might be evil, and cruel, and heartless, and many other things, but I still know the difference between a one night stand a girl who makes my heart want to pound right out of my chest and into her hand. What's different about me now that I'm not human, is that I have no immediate conscience after my actions, it sinks in after I've made a horrible decision. I wish I could apologize to you and tell you that everything will be alright, but I can't, because it won't be alright. I can't put into words how I feel about you because I know that what I'll say will come out wrong and I'll hurt you even more that I already have."

            "I fell from Heaven, but my feet never touched the ground. Up until you, I couldn't make a connection to anyone or anything. I just was.  Until I met you, Faith. I can't even walk in a straight line these days because my emotions get in the way and I start to stagger. Nothing is not how I feel about you. Nothing will never be how I feel about you, when you're everything to me. When you are the only one who brings my feet to the ground. When I told you that I was dying, I meant every word. Your fate is not set in stone, our fate is. The day that you were born, my redeemer was born. Every curse from the Heaven's has some way to be lifted. I thought for the longest time that your soul would finally lift my curse, that I would be able to destroy the Elder's and breathe normally again. When I was summoned through the Unknown to Heaven, Gabriel confirmed that you were my redeemer, but he said that you weren't going to be the one to die. He told me not to believe my dreams, then he shoved me through the Unknown before I could question him. Even after the warlock, Ace, predicted my death under your own hand, the person who I originally went to predict your birth, I didn't believe Gabriel. When I had the dream of you dying, I especially didn't believe him. But then today, when I saw you and my father together, I thought that you had taken his side. It was a stupid thought, instinctual. I was beyond jealous and I was enraged. But there was something else that bothered me. When I saw Malphas save your life, I felt... like I had done my job wrong. You weren't able to protect yourself. I went back thousands of years when I failed my first Charge as a Guardian Angel. You still have your doubts about your power, when you shouldn't have any. You're not ready to take on a group of demons like the ones who approached you in the ally..or something a lot more powerful. You're not ready to take me on even in my weakest state."

            That made me sit up on the bed, jerking on the handcuffs to try and reach him. "I don't understand. Tell me what you mean by that," I whispered a bit urgently. I was so stunned by his words that it was all I could say at the time. "What did you mean when you said you were dying?" I asked slowly.

              "The dream that I had of you two weeks ago, it wasn't real. Deep down, I knew the dream wasn't real the moment I saw it, but I just couldn't convince myself it was a fake until recently. The Elder's planted that dream in my mind to throw me off, make me think that the "big day" was actually going to happen. They want to get rid of me, and this how they're going to do it, Faith. They're going to make you, my soul mate, my other half, destroy me when I'm in my weakest state, because you're the only one that can, and they know that I won't kill you first. They know I won't kill you first because...I love you."

            At first, it hadn't registered in either of us what Death had just said. Both of us were absolutely stunned. We stared at each other, processing, rewinding, and then pressing place. My soul mate. I love you. I pressed stop, rewound, and pressed play again. I love you. Who? Why? When? What? How? Huh? The room spun, my breaths became shallow. Was I dreaming? Was that The Light, or just a really shitty neon light outside the motel window flickering really bright?

            Death slowly rubbed his jaw. I must have turned a million different colors of the rainbow. He clenched his teeth together. It was then I saw a little blonde piece of hair pop out of his beanie. Noticing my horrified stare, Death slowly slid off his beanie, watching my reaction. My eyes started to cross a little. His mahawk was a golden blonde. His hair was blonde. His hair was...blonde?

              I stopped breathing all together.

              BLONDE! I thought.

            "Blonde...yes. Fuck, you're not going to pass out or anything, right?"

            I fainted.

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