Page 27 of Deader than Dead
I shook my head. I’d thought the same thing, back when Bellamy had still been dead, that the lack of stab wounds or bullet holes was strange.
“I think I killed myself.”
“What?” The word came out filled with far more incredulity than I’d intended. “What do you mean?”
Bellamy took a deep breath. “I told you I have a moral code. I’m not stupid. I always suspected that the day might come when someone would challenge it and I would have to make an impossible decision. I carried a cyanide pill for that reason.”
I stared at him open-mouthed, not bothering to hide my shock. “A cyanide pill? Where would you even get one of those?”
Bellamy laughed. “Where do you think? I stole it.” His hand went to his neck, to a necklace that I’d noticed but not thought much about. Why would I? He clicked a button, the pendant opening up. “Look, empty,” he said, his mouth twisting as he angled the necklace so I could see that it was indeed empty. “I guess my theory is true.” He didn’t look too happy about being proved right, but then who would look happy about their own suicide? “I wouldn’t have withstood whatever they planned to do to me to get the information. They would have tortured me until I told them what they wanted to know. I’m guessing it didn’t leave me with a lot of choice if I didn’t intend to let them get their grubby hands on the mask. They must have left me alone for long enough to take it.” He shook his head. “I wish I could remember what happened, but I can’t.”
“It’s not unusual for memories of the actual death to disappear,” I explained. “Most people don’t remember. I’ve always assumed it’s a coping mechanism.”
“Makes sense,” Bellamy said.
“That’s why they were desperate to bring you back. I’m guessing they didn’t discover you were dead for some time. They’d probably locked you in that bedroom till they were ready to deal with you. There was very little there that you could have used to harm yourself, and it’s not like you expect people to carry cyanide pills.” So much so that I was still struggling to get my head around the fact that he had. Or that he’d taken it. He really hadn’t wanted them to get hold of that mask. Was it truly that powerful? Cade would know, or if he didn’t, he’d know someone who did. I wasn’t inclined to ask him, though, because that would mean having to admit to how I knew about it. This thing kept getting more complicated by the second.
“Do you hate me?” Bellamy asked, pulling me from my reverie.
I lifted my head to stare at him. “No.” The answer was simple. “Every time I look at you, the last thing I feel is hate.”
Bellamy’s lips curved up into a smile that made my heart beat faster. “I’ve never believed in love at first sight.”
“And now?”
His smile grew wider, and he shuffled his chair closer to mine. “Now, I think I was stupid not to believe in it.” He leaned in, our lips meeting in a kiss that was three parts sweetness and one part passion. We could go back to bed and spend the day lost in each other, whispering sweet nothings beneath the covers. We could plan for a future that had nearly been snatched away from us. The world was full of possibilities that hadn’t been there the previous day.
Chapter Fifteen
Bellamy
The day had barely started, and it had already proved intense, leaving me with an awful lot to digest. My apparent death and John not selling insurance after all, but being a necromancer among them. I’d known they existed, but I’d never met one. It wasn’t the kind of thing you stumbled across during your daily routine. Even when that routine was as irregular as mine.
Did it make it better that we’d both lied? Did they cancel each other out and mean we could start afresh? I hoped so. Either he was hiding it well, or John really didn’t care about me being a professional thief, which was huge.
And then there was this.
This amazing chemistry we both shared where we couldn’t get enough of each other, where a simple kiss felt like so much more. John had said that necromancers had a perfect match, and that I was his. Could it be that simple and straightforward? You met, and then what? That was just it? He was mine, and I was his. God, I hoped so.
I ran my fingers over his cheek, and he smiled into the kiss, which made me smile. This perfect golden man. Mine. And maybe I could understand him not caring about what I did, because I couldn’t have had less interest in what being a necromancer really entailed. He could dance with the dead every full moon and it wouldn’t change how I felt about him.
My hands burrowed beneath his T-shirt, needing warmth, needing bare skin, needing him. If the mask had brought me to this, then I owed it a great debt. “Bed,” I said between kisses. “Me. You. Sex.”
“Yes!” John said, his equal enthusiasm for the idea making my heart soar. We kissed again, rising from our chairs with our lips still locked together. Last night, John had believed it would be a one and done deal. It was time to show him how good it could be when we weren’t on a stopwatch.
The sound of a shrill ringtone had us breaking apart and sinking back into our respective seats.
“Who is it?” I asked as John stared at his phone, but made no move to answer it.
“Cade.” At my lack of comprehension, he elaborated. “My boss. The person who sent me to you.”
“We should probably thank him, then.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you think he wants?”
“I hung up on him before. He probably hadn’t finished saying whatever it was he wanted to say.”
