The Kiss of Death
By Jen Kacin
“You’re beautiful,” Aurora choked on the words as she struggled to fill her lungs, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as she coughed. “And dangerous.”
The luminescent stranger nodded once.
Tall, dark, and handsome weren’t strong enough words to describe the being striding toward her wrecked car. His black clothing shimmered as it billowed around his muscular frame.
“As are you, it would seem.”
His voice. It was a melody as lulling and soothing as it was sharp and pained.
She coughed again, blood spattering the inside of her elbow. “I would hardly say I’m dangerous in this condition.”
Was he a hallucination or was she already dead? Blood tickled her skin as it dripped down the side of her face. Not dead yet, but soon. Her legs were numb and her fingers cold. The stranger couldn’t harm her any more than she already was. Laughter bubbled out of her until she choked on it.
“You’re the Angel of Death.”
The stranger nodded once more.
“I’m Aurora.”
A small crinkle formed at the corners of his eyes, softening the fathomless depths of them.
“Will it hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Not a man of many words, are you?”
A corner of his mouth tilted into a curve and she instantly craved more of that smirk. Whatever this in-between moment was, she didn’t want it to end. Too close to the end of her life to be shy, she asked, “Is it a kiss that brings death?”
The stranger reached for a golden hilt attached to his hip. Lifting the sword slightly from its sheath, a golden light forced her eyes shut. She swallowed and the taste of blood turned her stomach.
“Does everyone see you coming?”
“You’re the first.”
That voice. If only he would keep talking, fill the space of fear and pain with his soothing cadence. She was losing the strength to form words of her own.
“Why me?” Her voice was hoarse, hardly sounding like her at all.
The Angel looked up toward the sky, his eyebrows pinched. “I don’t know. Perhaps you will be spared.”
As if to deny that sliver of hope, violent coughing wracked her body. She lacked the strength to wipe the blood streaming from the corner of her mouth.
He walked closer and she stilled, waiting for the mercy of death to claim her. But instead, he ripped the car door off its hinges as if it were wrapping paper. He bent and gently cradled her broken body, lifting her into his arms. Her head rested on his broad chest and she melted into the warmth of him as he carried her away from the wreckage. How could the ender of life be so gentle?
He held her impossibly closer to him as he ducked under the sweeping branches of a willow tree. Lowering himself, he leaned his back against the massive trunk, nestling her onto his lap. She could no longer feel the warmth of his body. The canopy of swaying green offered a shushing lullaby.
“Thank you.” It was a whisper.
A pained expression marred his beautiful features.
“No one has ever said that to you before?”
He shook his head.
With the little strength she had left, she reached a hand to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. He flinched at her touch. She smiled, hoping to reassure this powerful being that she didn’t mind his intentions for her.
“I’m glad you’re here.” She coughed. “I’m glad I’m not alone.”
A strong hand hovered over her cheek, hesitating. Then he traced her jawline with one long finger.
She shivered, whether from the cold creeping into every pore or from pleasure, she wasn’t sure.
“Dangerous.” He repeated the word, his voice gravelly.
Another shiver, definitely pleasure.
“Perhaps we could try the kiss instead of the sword?”
His smirk returned and she was no longer sorry for the icy roads, the tree her car was wrapped around, or that she had to say goodbye to this world.
He lowered his beautiful face toward hers and she inhaled the scent of him. Caramel and cinnamon. The kiss was a thousand shimmering lifetimes, an eternity of bliss, and a peaceful oblivion.
By Jen Kacin, 9/28/24