Micah didn't make a move as he stood a mere few feet from Briseis' former interest, Mark. Nothing much about the guys appearance changed of course. Though he did smell a bit like whiskey, he did look a lot better without spaghetti spilled all over him. Sadly, Micah was easy to recognize as well. And had only seconds to think of how to disappear from this situation before Mark recognized him as well.

"What are you doing here?" Mark asked Briseis with haste. His shock-filled eyes were locked on her.

Micah watched her flinch at his tone and went cold as her eyes shifted to him standing next to her. No. Don't draw attention to me, Briseis.

Her gem-like, watery eyes shifted back to Mark as she tried to put on a welcoming smile. "Um...I kinda felt like taking a little walk. What are you doing here?"

Micah took his chance to move, but the flush of crowd was like a novice swimmer going against the tide. Knowing it would be best for Breseis if he left, he proceeded to push through. He didn't want her to explain him. She couldn't.

But then he paused at the familiar escalation of Mr. Clueless' voice.

"I can't believe you would stiff me like this, Bree? Why couldn't you just tell me the truth instead of stringing me along? I thought you would forgive me and move on, so why the games?" His eyes were dark and disappointed, matching his tone. The crowd moved around them, avoiding this strange bubble of angt and drama stirring like a brooding storm between them. Luckily, Micah was just outside the danger zone--leaving would keep things from imploding. But one last look at Briseis painted a different picture.

A chill clenched Micah's chest when he noticed the tears streaming down her frowning face. Anger written in her expression, he didn't bother to entertain whether if it was for Mr. Clueless for being an ass, or for him, who also was being an ass. Seeing that look felt like witnessing the burning of Rome again..

And when Mark reached out and grabbed her arm, something inside him snapped. Somehow he didn't recall how he went from getting away towards St. Charles to getting between them, violently breaking the hold and staring down at a pale, shaking Mr. Clueless.

"You don't ever put your hands on her. You understand?"

Mark looked as if he was looking at Death itself.

Good.

Because he was.

***

Briseis couldn't breathe as she witnessed Micah standing in front of her, glaring at Mark. His aura was dark, oh so bleak for a second, she feared for her complicated Tinder date. What was even worst, was that neither of them was supposed to ever see each other again. Now, here they were in each other's faces.

Even as she stepped to stand beside Micah, she could tell that the fearful expression of Mark was morphing into an angry, betrayed one.

"Who the hell are you?" Mark asked. Then he shook his head. "Wait a minute. I know you."

Briseis tugged on Micah's arm. "Let's just go." Filled with remorse, her eyes darted to Mark "Don't do this, Mark."

"Wait! This is the asshole who spilled food all over me at that restaurant, isn't he?" Mark straightened his body and glared at both Micah and her. "So what is this? This asshole is your ex-boyfriend or something who's got it in for me?"

She shook her head. "No! This isn't what you think."

"Oh, I get it. You and him get together, role play and set up guys to humilate them? Some sick game you two do to get off? You and this prick?!"

"Mark, I--"

"It would be wise not to talk to her," Micah spoke with a deepness that nearly rumbled the concrete beneath her feet. "If you're pissed about spaghetti being all over your shitty suit, deal with me."

Mark nodded. "Good!" He swung and punched Micah with a right hook, staggering to keep his balance. "That's for my cleaning bill, you twisted bastard!"

"Mark! Stop it!," she barked. "What the hell's the matter with you!" Briseis' fists bawled up ready to strike at any second. He was hurt, sure, but his true colors have become a shade too dark for comfort. She looked up to Micah, who barely moved, yet something about his calmness crept up her spine ready to strike like a viper. It was hard for her to breathe. Her Tinder date just struck Death. Please God, just let Mark walk away from this. He's an idiot--and idiots don't deserve to die. This was all a mistake! Worried her words would fall on deaf ears like so many of her prayers, she tugged on Micah's arm. "We need to leave."

Her voice drew Mark's attention. He sneered."And you! I don't know who you are, but I know what you are, twisted bottom-feeding bitch and--"

Micah quelled his rant with a solid jab to the jaw, decking Mark immediately with a single hit. He wiped the trail of blood from his nose, ignoring the small cut just below his eye. "I warned you."

"Jesus Micah!" Briseis went to Mark and checked his vitals. She would be surprised if he didn't get a concussion from the drop. She opened his eyelids and sighed in relief. Some voices around her jarred her attention. There was a growing attention of onlookers and people with their phones witnessing the fallout. Oh no. Last thing they need is to be on the news or some Twitter blast. She took Micah's hand. "Look, we need to get outta here or your boss is going to know what you've been up to. Now haul it!"

This time, Micah followed and they weaved through with a quickness in the crowd until they found solace in a streetcar to take them back home.

***

Among the crowd and vibrant music stood a quiet, but observant visitor propped up on a street post. The passer-bys couldn't see him, and fortunately thanks to the distractions, neither did his target. Abraham stood quietly and watched as two men helped the dazed and confused gentleman off the street and into a nearby bar. He seemed to be okay, but likely missing a tooth and some brain cells knowing Micah's strength. He smiled at the thought.

It was a good thing he decided to hang around after collecting his mark's soul. Something in the air felt off, like a bad omen. Low and behold, he stumbles upon The Pale Rider himself, picking a fight with a mortal for a mortal. It was interesting to see him defend the pretty necromancing witch, like some ethereal bodyguard...or angry ex-boyfriend like the mortal guy referred to him as.

Almost grinning, he hopped off the post and walked down the overrun street full of shouters, drunks and wanderers in the direction of Briseis home. Something indeed was amiss; why didn't she fear Micah? In fact, her touches and gestures implied sense of comfort.

Familiarity.

But no one touched Micah. The right hand of Azareal. The dark angel of Death. And yet, Abraham saw a look in his eyes that told a story of a failing battle within him. There was a siege happening and the poor bastard probably didn't even know it. If he did, a grounded reaper like him would probably give in. He'd hoped that he was right about his hunch--and this display of a Reaper, grounded and fighting like a common mortal to defend a witch that everyone wanted dead was enough to warrant a talk with Gideon and the group. Who knows if he's just letting her turn about souls because he's sweet on her?

The plot was definitely thickening and he was going to have a front row seat to Micah's demise.

***

Despite the open air noise of the busy night, the ride on the streetcar was a quiet one for both Micah and Briseis. While she found her spot near the back sitting next to an elderly woman going on about her grandkids, Micah stood closer to the front. He neither spoke nor moved. In their silence, both were stockpiling their emotions like it was the apocalypse. Too many questions were left and actions went invalidated. Briseis caught herself watching his tall, dark frame standing in the aisle. Everyone avoided him as if they could sense who or what he was. They were perhaps smarter than her. That look in his eyes with Mark frightened her, and had to remind her that he wasn't some guy from New Orleans. He was a reaper. Death--who was terrible with people. Her eyes caught him wipe his cut and inspect it. Even seeing his own blood was foreign to him. She sighed.

In most movies, when a man defended your honor, the woman would nurse his wounds, thank him for protecting her and of course, makeout, because there's nothing better to culminate all that gratitude and pent-up drama than getting to second base.

But instead, she left him to bleed alone. She couldn't forget what he said. If they weren't even friends, why delude herself? True, he stood up for her, but given she was just a job, maybe it was more like protecting his investment. Was anything genuine between them? She closed her eyes and remembered his face as he came toward her to dance. She couldn't describe it, but it was as if he had zero uncertainty of what he wanted. At least, she wanted to believe that. But like this night has shown her, perhaps she didn't know people very well at all.

It wasn't till they finally made it to the front steps of the house that the bottled up emotions rattled to be freed. Unlocking the door, she could hear his breathing preparing him to speak.

"Are you not going to talk to me at all?," he asked. The innocence in his tone was as annoying to her as a bubbly co-worker on a Monday.

Briseis walked in and threw her keys and wallet, with no intended aim. "Talk about what exactly?" She kicked off her shoes then whirled around to face a frowning reaper. "Like how you knocked Mark's lights out? How you played your machismo card in front of a bunch of over-caffiened, drinking, social media savvy onlookers?" She moved over to the cabinet to grab a glass and get some water. "Wanna talk about that?"

Micah grimaced. He sure as hell didn't regret punching Mr. Clueless. The guy was lucky he even waited this long to do it. Maybe she was right about his machismo, maybe it was the green-eyed monster clawing at this sensibility ever since he laid eyes on them. But none of it needed to be exposed for discussion. He shook his head, moving to the other side of the counter. "He had his hands all over you. He angered me."

She braced herself on the granite top. "You angered me!" Briseis watched his brows furrow at her truth.

"I don't understand. I was only protecting you."

She ripped open the top freezer and sifted till she got the frozen peas. "Dammit, I don't need protection. You were the one that hurt me, not him!" Her eyes tunneled into him. "You were the asshole that somehow convinced me to make something happy of tonight." She tossed the bag to him. "Here, for your nose. Put it on your face. Anyways, something fun and genuine. But it was all for show, wasn't it?"

He moved the bag from his nose, stunned. "What?"

She crossed her arms. "You didn't mean any of it, did you? Was getting me out tonight, what, some sort of proof you can manipulate this silly little necromancer? Is that it?"

Micah pointed at her with earnest. "No!"

She wanted to believe him. "Did you even care about how I felt about my mom's birthday?"

"Of course I do, Bree. I'm not a monster."

"Yes you are, because I've seen it! Let's not forget why you're here, Micah. And I can't help but to wonder if everything you do is to check some box up there for your mission. Is it?"

"I'm not here for games and such, Briseis. We made a pact and I'm committed to see it though, you understand? Believe me, I've not forgotten why I'm here. You parade with your gift daring Death to challenge you and he sent me." He watched her lips tremble and he wanted to sink into the floor. He'd lied. He had forgotten why he was there, which was why this whole night was torture--for both of them. If he gave into emotions, he'd be lost and abandoned by the only world he's ever known.

Say it.

"I know you hated hearing it, but you are the job, Bree. You are. I'm all that stands between you and Azareal and I've gotta keep myself focused."

She stepped back as if he'd slapped her. "Focused? Why? Does my life distract you and your boss from bullying me into submission?" She marched away from the counter and Micah followed her.

"That's not what I meant."

She paused with her back to him. Briseis no longer cared what came out her mouth, as long as it went for the jugular. "I was better off moping here in my pajamas than trusting you. A reaper capable of living and yet fearing it every step of the way. A coward. You don't smile. You don't dance. You don't f-" the word stuck in her throat as she turned to find him right behind her listening. She swallowed as his deep blues searched her. "...f-fool around. How can I ever get you to understand me if you just stare down your nose at me as a stupid, indulgent human that you're just dying to get rid of?"

He sighed. If she only knew the truth. "You hide behind your gift as if there's nothing more to you. No friends. No family. No love. Sure, you got your Mr. Clueless, here or there, but you were just fine cocooning in your home away from the world. You do it by choice. I do it by necessity. Don't you understand that you could have all those things? You're wasting yourself."

Hearing him call out her lackings, wrung her heart. Of course she wanted those things, but he didn't understand she was never meant for that. Her calling required more of her. A sacrifice. "You think I have a choice, but I don't. At least I have the little things. But you--You spend your whole life doing what the powers that be want of you. You never really lived, Micah. Just a shell of a human you once were at some point of your existence. Maybe that's why you're Azareal's second in command, right?" A shiver shook her as the house began to chill considerably. "So, who's really afraid to live? Hmm?"

Briseis grabbed his hand, letting her fingers intertwine with his, trying to ignore the electric pull of making contact with him. "Who's really afraid to feel?" His skin was inviting, and it ran a tingle up her spine. Their mutual eye contact signaled both felt the sensation. She pushed his hand away and scoffed. "I think we both know the answer, don't we?"

Briseis slammed the door to her room. "And the First Aid kit is in the bottom cabinet in the bathroom, Holyfield! No blood on my bedding!"

Micah's hand formed a fist to knock on her door, but he flattened it against the wood and sighed. He needed to leave her alone as more words would just cause more trouble. A soft meow turned his attention to see Osiris sitting in the entrance of his room. Once their eyes met, the cat's friendly mews turned to a threatening growl.

"Go to hell, cat. You're not helping."

After showering and washing his face, he stopped and examined himself in the mirror. Mark did get a good hit in, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as he anticipated. Definitely wasn't enough to take him off his feet. His fingers trailed the bruise on his nose up to the small cut that the ring caught just under his eye. The face staring back at him seemed foreign. An evil, vulnerable doppelganger looking back at him. It wasn't like he made a point to look at his reflection, but it was sobering to see what everyone else saw.

What Briseis saw.

"Who are you?" he whispered to his reflection. It didn't answer. It didn't know any more than he did. They were both trapped down here, bolstered between a deal with a witch and the duty of his role. He was cut off from Saffron and any support system he had, so it was quite clear he was fucked. "We're on our own, aren't we?"

After kicking Osiris out, Micah plopped down on his bed and cut the lights out. He tossed and turned, but sleep wasn't coming for him. The argument with Briseis laid fresh in his mind. The celebration of her mother was ruined because of him. Ruined because he was afraid of being honest to her. He hated that he was responsible--not when the only thing that made him feel was seeing her happy. Laying there in his sweatpants she bought for him, he found his mind moving a thousand miles a minute. She wasn't like him. Not at all. Briseis was warm and full of light. She wasn't made to live such a cold, solitary life, saving souls.

That smile of hers as she danced in his arms drove him crazy. The softness of her touch haunted him and made his heart pound recklessly. He laid staring up at the ceiling, daydreaming about a million different actions that involved her in the most intimate ways imaginable. It wasn't normal for him to feel like this. To want like this. Being here ruined him and all he could think about is her.

Her disappointment in him churned him with shame to where all he desired was her forgiveness.

Her comfort.

She dared to trust and open herself to him and yet she was right--he was a coward not to do the same. But that wasn't all. He possessed a sinful imagination that craved her during the day and taunted him at night. Craved her as a mortal man did a woman. Her lips against him and his hands exploring every inch of her in wonderment. Azareal and the others would call it witchcraft--her defense to save her from a reaper's wrath, but he held no anger for her. This was something else. Something forceful and wild, like the wonder of nature.

And it claimed him. Heaven help him, it flushed him with waves of emotion he couldn't name or explain. Tempted him to ask questions of himself that he wasn't ready to answer. Was he a coward? He had faced insurmountable trials as a reaper, but none as harsh as keeping away from the necromancing witch in the next room. Micah shifted his body to the window, frustration pummeling his resolve as he hardened to the point of aching. A creature like him demanded absolution.

***

Micah rapped on the wood of her door with the persistence of a police officer.

Briseis jerked the door open, her long hair fluttering against the force of the door opening. Her bright turquoise eyes flashed in the backdrop of her dark room. She stood in her AC/DC black t-shirt hugging her exquisite body tight. Her long legs enveloped in shadow up to her thick thighs and pink underwear. On her face, she wore a frown dipped in annoyance and surprise.

"Well? What do you want Micah!"

"You."

Micah cupped her face with both hands and pulled her to his mouth, his lips crashing against hers in the fiercest of unions. Tasting the sweetness and fire between them both, lighting a spark that would burn bright long after this night was over. Briseis moaned into his mouth and that was all it took to push himself into her bedroom. Grabbing the back of her thighs, Micah hoisted her around his waist, crushing her against him as he made his way to the bed. She had done him in, and he was helpless against it. All he could do was surrender and pray they weren't damned by the morning.

She gasped for breath as Micah's dark aura held something far more intense that enveloped them both. It was wild and seductive, leaving her body hypersensitive to his touch as he dropped them down on her bed.

Briseis gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers into him as she panted against him. His lips forced her mouth open and gave her a deep kiss that turned her to liquid. She wasn't a vampire, but his hot, smooth skin drove an urge in her to bite him as she discovered what it was like to be touched by death...

And it was sexy as hell.

"You know that my bedroom is off-limits, reaper," Briseis warned between their interlocked mouths engaging in another long, sensual kiss that rocked her down to her core. His hard body pressed against her, feeling the sinewy motion ripple as his hands explored her.

She felt a soft smile on her skin before he mumbled.

"Well, I've been breaking many rules tonight."

It had been so long since she shivered from someone's touch. So long since there was someone who tried to understand her. She'd been alone for so long, never wanting to let anyone in because of what she was, she'd forgot how amazing it felt to be wanted. Truly wanted. Her body's response to him was possession. Every caress of his fingers, brush of his lips, even whisper of his breath on her skin, set every molecule within her ablaze. He touched her as if he'd explored her body for centuries; carefully, but with the boldness of an ex-lover. It made her imagination drift to a fantasy where they were together in several lifetimes ago. Where their forbidden desire gave way to a connection that rivaled tonight. Her fingers raked through his fine, flaxen hair as she moaned his name.

Micah couldn't stop kissing her. The soft lining of her lips, the silky feel of her tongue as she darted it into his mouth was pushing him over the edge. He never felt anything quite like it. She hissed as he gripped her ass, pulling her close against his body. Her skin warm and delightfully tempting, his other hand slid past the bottom hem of her t-shirt. She pulled at his sweatpants, until he finally slipped them off. A moan escaped her as she felt his hands skim over her stomach up to cup her bare breast, softly massaging it till he brought her nipple erect. Switching to the other breast, Micah whispered in her ear. "I'm going to lose my mind if I don't see all of you right now. I want you naked beneath me." Short of ripping her clothes off, it was the tamest request he could muster.

He punctuated his request with a gentle suck to her ear lobe and at that point, Briseis was certain he could've asked for anything he wanted and would've gotten it. She wasn't typically one to blush, but his direct, heated demand had her feeling like a coy virgin if only for a moment. She felt him thick and erect against her thigh and wanton anticipation roused her even more. Open to his hungry gaze, Briseis slowly grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her, revealing her naked torso. She gently took his hand to her panties, urging him to go on. Micah's hands gripped the hem and in one fluid movement, she lifted her hips for him to slide them down her legs. Her turquoise eyes bright, she couldn't help the shudder within her body as he looked at her. It was as if he'd never seen anything so sacred in his existence. "You are the most magnificant creature I've ever seen, Bree. "

At the sound of him saying her name she smiled. Her hand stroked his cheek and smiled as he turned to kiss her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat realizing he was the most vulnerable she'd ever seen him. So human. "Likewise, Micah."

His hand caressed her face and gently trailed down between her full breasts, where he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth. The feel of his tongue stroking against her sensitive flesh, made Briseis coo with pleasure and when his hand brushed the dark strip between her legs, she brazenly opened them further eager to feel him touch her there.

Micah, no longer able to bear it, let his fingers slide down and into the slick wanton folds of her sex. Watching Briseis arch her back with a low purr he continued to kiss and explore her, enjoying to sighs and moans of pleasure she uttered beneath him.

Briseis dug her fingers into her reaper's back as his lips and fingers did wicked things to her body. She squirmed and rocked against his hand, growing more wet and aching. His lips on her body stirred her heartbeat. Her moans and cries of pleasure filled his ear as he teased her--his fingers sliding over her clit threatened to make her insane. She chanted his name urging him to make love to her. Briseis skin prickled with goosebumps all over as she panted out yells to announce her orgasm. Clenching him tight, she rode it out like a fierce storm, pulsing aftershocks.

He pushed one of her hands above her head, almost pinning her. "I want to hear you do that again." He groaned as Briseis' hand stroked him, building his ache deeper. Intensity blazing in his blue eyes, he held her gaze needing her to watch him as he finally entered her. They both moaned simultaneously, her body trembling as she received him. She was so ready and pleasure threatened to blind him as her tight walls contracted. Her nails scraped his flesh on his back and the cries of her satisfaction urged him on with each needful thrust. He breathed her scent and reveled in her warmth and indescribable passion. Each stroke brought them closer to the edge, their hands interlocked at their fingers. A union that was tearing them both asunder.

And when she came again, Micah nearly bled his lips biting down for control. Her legs wrapped around him and it was his undoing. He groaned as his release ripped through him, tucking his face at the hollow of her neck.

There was a peace within him --that serenity that only came from being close to her. He was afraid to go to sleep.

What if this wasn't real?

Micah laid beside her and gently kissed her as she fell asleep in his arms.