"That's where you're wrong, Death," I say, a mere inches from his handsome, stern face, "I don't feel."

I hope to all the gods that he can not feel how fast my pulse is beating through my wrist, betraying my previous statement. The truth is, when it comes to Death, I feel all of the emotions. He always brings me from zero to a hundred, whether that is in anger, sadness, fear, or now lust.

As I stare deeper into his black eyes, I can not help but be drawn into him again. I should back away and put some distance between us, but all I want is to stay here.

A heated moment goes by, but I will not let myself make the same mistake as in the basement. I stay rooted in place, savouring our proximity exactly as I should not.

When I think he is about to let go of me, he smirks, an evil glint in his eye. He knows he is winning. The bastard knows exactly what I am thinking. What I am feeling.

Before I can remove myself and crawl into a dark hole, he pulls me to him roughly and crashes his lips on mine.

As soon as I feel his warm, hard mouth moving against my own, I know I am lost.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Bad, Emma. Don't do it.

His kisses are not like the romantic, soft, pecking kind you normally see when two people kiss for the first time. No, his are demanding, passionate, and hungry. One of his hands digs into my waist and pulls me to him until there is no more space between us. My treacherous body responds and I bring my hands up to the back of his neck. Instinctively, I grip his head firmly and angle mine upwards to better accomodate our height difference.

Treacherous, treacherous body.

This is the very last thing I should be doing with him.

He turns me until I am trapped in between him and the bedroom wall, possessively keeping his mouth on mine. He kisses me as though trying to destroy my mouth and I hungrily push back, biting fervently on his lower lip. He takes advantage of this by pushing his tongue past my clenched teeth, invading me. A moan escapes me and he keeps going with even more fervor.

Liquid electricity rushes through my body and I start tingling all over. This is definitely not a normal response, but screw it.

I relish in his burning grip on my hips and his hard body pressed against mine. My fogged brain can not focus on anything else but him. In this moment, it is as though all of my problems disappear. The dark thoughts that are constantly running through my mind are gone, replaced by desire. With every kiss, he takes my pain away.

His strong arms circle around my body, caging me. I feel the stubble on his chin deliciously grazes my jaw, his legs on either side of mine to keep my from being able to leave if I wanted to. I am thoroughly trapped, like a rabbit in snare, willing to be captured.

I run my hands down his back and slip them under his shirt where I can feel the taut, hard muscles of his back. I dig my nails in, unable to suppress the agression I feel mounting in me. He does not move away, does not even flinch, only increasing the speed at which he moves his lips and his tongue.

Soon, the kissing becomes agonizing. I need more and I know for a fact he feels the same way.

Death pulls away, eyes boring into mine with lust. We both stare at each other, panting and breathless from what should not have happened.

"You sure don't kiss like someone who doesn't feel," he whispers huskily in my ear.

I press my lips into a thin line, but do not bother answering, feeling as though I was just slapped in the face. How dare he make fun of what just happened? Did he plan it all? Was it all just a ploy to prove me wrong. To prove to me that he can do whatever he wants with me.

"Fuck you," I spit.

I push him away, but he does not move.

"Get off me."

"No. Listen to me." He grabs my chin and forces me to look into his eyes, "You're done running away from your feelings. It's destroying you."

"You don't know anything about me, so stop pretending like you do," I grit. I try to pry his arms off of me, but he keeps me trapped.

"I know pain when I see it. And your eyes, they're always filled with it. It's so potent that it radiates off you like a second aura."

"What are you talking about?" I blurt.

"You need to start facing your demons. You need to address what happened with your parents, whatever it is, you need to deal with your flashbacks and you need to stop ignoring what's between us," he says with an edge to his voice.

I process his words, but my mind keeps going back to the fact that he remains slouched over me while his arms pin me to the wall.

The doorbell rings and we both snap our heads towards the sound. Death looks down at me with a raised brow.

"Were you expecting someone?" he asks.

"Maybe," I say sassily. I was definitely not expecting someone.

He pulls away and starts for the stairs. I trail after him, curious and a little frightened to know who could be visiting me at this hour.

I glance through the window by the door and frown when I see her, standing on my porch and looking around her frantically as though she something is about to jump at her any minute. She holds her navy peacoat closed tightly around her, along with her bag. The more curious thing, however, is how she is wearing sun glasses at 11:00 o'clock at night.

"Vanesa?" I say in shock when I have opened the door, mostly because she never, ever comes to my house. I did not even know she had my address.

She bursts past me through the door as quickly as I have said her name.

"I can't believe this happened," She mumbles, "I'm so, so screwed." She paces back and forth in my dining room, whilst simultaneously shaking her head vigorously from side to side.

"What is it?" I ask, watching her.

"This has never happened before!" she screeches in a sudden burst of energy.

"Whatever it is, maybe I can help?" I offer in my confusion.

"Wow, there's a lot of Chinese food in here," she remarks to herself. Then starts pacing again, "I don't know how it could have happened!" she screeches again.

"Vanesa, stop! You're acting crazy right now," and that says a lot coming from me.

"I need to skip town. I need," she rubs her temples, "to disappear."

I watch her walk around the table, "Are those eggrolls?" She grabs one and takes a huge bite. Then, she shoves the rest of it in her small mouth. "I shouldn't be eating fried foods," she mutters, "God damnit!" she shouts with her mouth full. She says something else that sounds like gibberish, so I do not pay it much attention.

"What sort of people do you associate yourself with?" asks Death.

When she finally notices him standing beside me with his hoodie on, she stops dead in her tracks.

"Hi, I'm Vanesa," she extends her hand and he shakes it, "That's with one S," she adds quickly, before resuming her pacing.

I always knew she was a little neurotic, but right now she looks as though she belongs in an asylum.

"Stop with the pacing," I say, grabbing her shoulders, "Tell me what the hell is going on."

She gulps, then takes a really deep breath.

"I've been hacked. You've been hacked!"

"Wait, what?" I blurt.

"Your website, it's been hacked! I'be never been hacked, Emmalyn. I do the hacking!" she whines, poking herself on the chest with one of her thumbs repeatedly. "It's only a matter of time until they do the same to my other clients," she mumbles.

"What do you mean I've been hacked? Didn't you say cops rarely shake down websites on the dark web?" I start panicking. This is bad. So, so, so, so bad.

She starts shaking her so quickly her sun glasses drop a little lower on her nose. "This isn't the cops." Relief washes over me. Thank god.

"Ok, then what's the problem? It's all good. Just, hack them back or something."

"Hack them back?" she screams, "This isn't a tennis match!"

"Wow, my ears are going to bleed after this." I hear Death mutter to himself.

She sits down at the table, holding her head with both hands. "You're going to need to leave town."

"Like hell I will. I still fail to see the big deal in this."

"They were targeting you, Emmalyn. This wasn't just some random hacking." She looks straight at me as she says this and I freeze. Now she has my attention.

"Please elaborate," I say through clenched teeth.

"They left a message. I printed it." she reaches into her Louis Vuitton bag and pulls out a folded piece of paper. "You might want to sit," she adds.

I grab the note from her and unfold it. Death moves behind me at inhuman speed and pulls it out of my hand before I have the chance to read it.

"Hey, give that back," I yell, trying to catch it before he lifts it too high for me to reach. The balls on this guy. "It's my note!" It might not be a nice one, but it is mine nonetheless.

He ignores me and runs his eyes over it. When he appears done, his face morphs into a scowl and the cords in his neck become visible as his jaw clenches. The next second, all of the atmosphere around us shifts as a blanket of ice cold air falls upon us. He crumbles it and it falls to ashes on the ground. I stare at it, dumbfounded. I actually really wanted to read the thing.

"Erm, that's my cue to leave," sputters Vanesa, eyes wide, "Emmalyn, I'm skipping town. You won't be able to reach me but here," she pulls out a large enveloppe packet from her bag, "It's a new identity, in case you want to do the same." She gets up, eyeing death suspiciously, "And don't worry, making people disappear is one of my specialties." She grabs her things and leaves as fast as she arrived.

I turn around and glare at Death. "What did the note say?"

"I'll take care of it," he states.

"Take care of what exactly?" I grit, "What was in the damn note?"

"It doesn't matter. I said I'll take care of it," he says in a cold, impassive voice

"Just tell me what the message said!" I clench my fists.

He shakes his head, looking downward for a second before he replies, "The message was a threat."

"Threatening what? To make me unemployed?"

He remains silent for long time before he finally says the words that send shivers down my spine, "First, your mind. Then, your body. Now, your job. What next?"

I try to rake my brain at the meaning of it. First, my mind? Then, my body? Now, my job? I shake my head. When I look back up, Death is staring at me with an expression I can not recognize.

"All of these attacks are linked."

"First, my mind?"

"The illusion at the cinema," he says coldly.

"Then, my body," I swallow, "The attack in the street."

"Now your job," he finishes.

All of these incidents are related. This only confirms the one thing I knew all along, but did not want to recognize. I was being hunted.

"I really pissed someone off, didn't I?"