Angel. My head whips toward Breckin. He’s watching, his amber eyes narrow, his jaw tight. Guardian angel. Blue eyes. Angel, angel, angel . . .
Dark spots fill my vision. I sway in my seat, grasping at the edge of my desk, when a hard body presses against my shoulder and arms wrap around me.
Heat blows around my cheek. “Vivie?”
Vivie. The lock unlatches, and memories rush in. The animal attack, the reaper, the bathroom at Burger Bar, Breckin’s kisses. I suck shallow breaths, recalling the danger, the warnings. The way the reaper waved a hand this morning and how a bus almost killed me.
“Breck!” I turn into his chest and grab his shirt. “It was him. The bus, this morning . . . I know it was.”
Then I see his hands at my waist as he lifts me onto a counter at his house and his smile as his lips descend on mine. My gasp is audible. Saturday night. He erased my memory?
Someone calls our teacher as Breckin rubs my arms and helps me stand, supporting most of my weight.
“Vivienne?” Heels click against the floor as she nears.
“I’ll take her to the office. She’s still freaked out about this morning,” Breckin offers, his voice take-charge and firm.
Breckin grabs my bag and escorts me from class. My eyes focus straight ahead, ignoring the curious glances, especially from friends. They’re probably wondering when Breckin Roberts and I became close enough for me to cling to him as though my life depends on it.
The hall is empty, the bell having already rung, but neither of us speaks as he ushers me down the corridor and around a corner, where he opens a door and pulls me inside. We’re in a janitor’s closet, the scent of bleach and bathroom soap overwhelming.
His back to me, he rubs his neck with an exhale as he leans forward and rests his forehead against the door. His hunter green thermal clings to his shoulders and back, and I stare, searching for the wings I now remember. He twists around, remaining against the door, his mouth tight as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Why?”
“Are you okay?”
I snort at his insane question. “Am I okay? Where should I start?” Breckin’s mouth opens, and I forge ahead. “We kissed. I thought it meant something, but you erased my memory—”
“Vivie?”
I look past the tenderness in his eyes and continue. “I mean, I suppose that’s no different than not getting a call back after a date, right? If you were human, I guess that’s what this would be—a one-time, never speak to me again hookup. One could argue you were doing me a favor. Taking away my memories is nicer than letting me linger over what happened.”
“That’s not what happened.” Anger flashes across his face as he steps away from the door.
I move, kicking a mop bucket of dirty water. “No? How often do you do this anyway? No wonder I’ve never heard tales of you with girls. Do you erase every idiot’s mind once you have a taste?”
His snarl, purely angelic, scares the hair straight up on my neck. “Vivienne.” He grabs my arms, and my back bumps into the shelves stocked with toilet paper and paper towels. Two rolls fall to the floor as Breckin presses close. “You are not an idiot, and I didn’t erase your memories. Didn’t you hear me Saturday night when I told you I was staking my claim? Yesterday was hell for me. And this morning—” His hands move to my face, holding me tight as his forehead touches mine. “When I heard about the accident, it took all my strength to stay away. I figured it would seem odd if I showed up.”
My hurt evaporates with his words. I grip his wrists. “I’m not supposed to remember you, am I?”
“You’re not.” Although his voice is serious, his lips tug into a smile.
“Who erased my memory, Breck?”
His mouth opens, then closes as he chooses his words. “Another angel.”
“The one you spoke to the other night?” He nods. “Why?”
“Because if we’re not careful, this will become about more than a reaper.”
My Immortal
Breckin
Uncertainty clouds Vivienne’s eyes as my words sink in. This is insane. I’m torn by the return of her memories. I want to take her mouth right here in this closet and drink her in until kissing her erases the fear that buried me this morning when I heard about the accident. At the same time, I want to rage at my angelic abilities until I figure out why they don’t work on her. Why does she remember?
Her exhale teases across my face as her hands wrap around my waist. “I don’t want to forget, Breck.”
The panic in her blue eyes infuriates my protective side. My hand slips around her neck and tucks her head under my chin. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”
“From the reaper?”
“Among other things,” I say vaguely. “And his name is Sebastian, by the way.”
She pulls back. “He has a name? How do you know it?”
Might as well tell her what I know, but not here. Not now. I brush her hair back with a smile. “I’d rather not have this conversation in a janitor’s closet at school.”
“After school, then? Will you tell me everything?”
Everything I can, I say in my head as I nod.
The day drags, and not seeing Vivienne after we part doesn’t help. Her messages do, though. She texts me little tidbits about each of her classes, which keeps my brain from exploding with worry until, at last, the day ends.
She blew off my request to meet at her locker, saying she knew where I parked. It bruised my ego, her not wanting me to wait for her. So here I am, leaning against my Bronco and waiting, somewhat impatiently, for her to come to me. The moment her voice cuts across the noise and reaches me, my muscles relax. Cars, music, and hundreds of students crowd out of the building, yet her voice stands out among them all. My soul breathes a sigh of relief. She’s surrounded by friends, a warm interested smile on her face as she listens to Macy Blackstone talk about her weekend. Macy’s a witch hunter. How would Vivienne react if she knew? What would she think if she knew about the shifters, vampires, and mages who control much of this town? There’s so much she doesn’t know, so much I can’t tell her.
Macy leaves with a wave, and Vivienne scans the lot. A spark ignites within, like the flick of a match, when her blue eyes find me. This girl consumes me. My soul tugs like it would rip itself from my body to reach her side.
My soul?
Vivienne toys with a strand of hair, twirling it as she smiles and nods at her friends, while her eyes remain locked on mine. I straighten and move around the hood. I need her to come over here. Now.
At my movement, she steps down from the curb. “I better go,” she says over her shoulder.
“You’re not riding home with Zara?” asks Scarlet.
Vivienne hesitates, her steps slowing as mine quicken. Spinning her back to me, she answers, “No. I’m . . . um, I’ve got another ride today.”