Never Forget: NEVER, #1

Chapter 1

Malachus Lonsdale, CEO of Dark Wood Industries, was in no hurry as he ran his fingers along the bare back of the woman lying next to him. She was all satin and silk. He trailed feather touches to wake her up. Over the last year, he’d discovered Lilith was very responsive to light grazes, brief touches and wet kisses along her silky skin. She was no ordinary lover, a mistress in her own right in the art of seduction, Lilith was a carnal creature. Malachus was no novice, himself. He’d stayed with her for as long as he had, precisely for that reason. She’d been a willing participant, unashamed about her passion and pleasure. 

Her sleep remained sound and still she looked so very sensual. He draped her honey blonde mane over one shoulder, exposing the nape of her slender neck. Shifting his body so she was cradled beneath him, he pressed his hot, moist mouth to the ridge of her spine and began to leisurely travel downward. I love when you do that, Malachus.

Her voice, lazy, raspy, sultry, caused an instant reaction in him. He could get lost in wicked sensations. Here the world and all its disappointments receded. She suggestively writhed beneath him. He groaned. His growl low and throaty. This was what he wanted, what he always needed and hungered for. Hands gliding, fingers teasing, mouths devouring. She knew what wound him up and how he loved it.

But he felt nothing beyond the searing press of flesh. Nothing else. No attachment, no enjoyment. Just a desert of listless emotion. He knew where to touch a woman, how to stroke her to a fevered pitch, how to please with his mouth and fingers, how to bring her the ultimate pleasure. He pulled away, his legendary prowess in danger of being shot down. As always it was never enough. He wanted more. He wanted so much more. He was in the wrong place and with the wrong person. That knowledge nagged him.

He swung his legs off the bed and began to dress. Winter would be here soon in Calgary. Fall had already caused a steady drop in temperatures. Lilith’s blue eyes watched him and her lips curled upwards. Lilith was never one to back down from a challenge. In a bid to tempt him back, she clambered off the bed and reached out to him. When he made no effort to stay, she let the black satin sheet drop and stood before him. But he had long retreated.

She kissed his back and her claws ran up and down.

Is something wrong? I’ll make it all better, she said in her husky voice.

He glanced casually over his shoulder, as he said, I’ve got other things to do.

Better than me? She asked him, sitting suggestively near her dresser legs crossed.

Well, of course. He had work. It was already past midnight which meant his new list of souls needed to be escorted home. Being a Grim Reaper had its own problems, but he took his duties seriously while keeping the façade of Calgary businessman alive. Like other grim reapers, he was paying the price for a sin he wasn’t aware of. Yet, he had strict instructions from Uriel, they were to be led home, lest they roam the world listlessly instead of going to their final abode.

That was not the only reason though he kept his distance from Lilith. She didn’t have enough sway over him. She wasn’t Dara, the girl who slowly crept into his heart.

Or have you found a new partner?

He laughed. If he didn’t know her well, he’d thought of her as jealous. She picked up the robe from the floor, she divested hours earlier.

Frustrated with his ignorance, she flung her pillow at him. Damn it, why won’t you talk to me?

He tucked his finger under her chin, tilted her head around, and took her mouth as though he owned it. Only when she turned and sagged against him, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. After setting her down gently, he drew the covers over her. Good night.

She called out, Don’t leave me! Her words gave him no pause. He’d heard them before, from someone else. The first time three years ago. The words had pained him then, but never since. Lilith didn’t love him. She was as frosty as he. It was the reason they were well suited, the reason he’d not yet grown bored with her. Because she knew the score. Love had nothing to do with it.

Malachus?

He thought of a way to appease her, to demonstrate that the problem lay squarely at his door. He turned around and winked at her. He knew exactly how to work around women but one. How about I take you to a play this week? I’ve heard the Twelfth Night has come to town.

I’d love that, she purred. 

She was so easily won over. And he knew exactly how to win.

She blew him a kiss.

The truth was that he was already bored. Lilith was no ordinary fling. He owed her. She deserved better. He hurried down the stairs of her villa and out the front door into the lightly falling rain, where his car waited. His driver leaped forward and opened the door.

Library, Malachus ordered as he climbed inside and settled back against the plush leather of his Audi. He could go home, instead. Not a home. Simply a place where he resided, where he would wallow in his fine whiskey and craft beer and contemplate why he refused to stay the night with Lilith.

Conceding to her would give her too much control over him. And he was a man who relished his freedom. He’d gone too much of his life without possessing either control or independence.

As a child, Malachus could see ghosts and spirits. Different kinds of them, battered, bruised and lost. He didn’t know why until his seventeenth birthday. That’s when he’d received a visit from Thanatos.

You’re not an ordinary man, Malachus, and your purpose here on earth is completely different from that of others.

Malachus had been quite shocked. Thanatos had a frightening visage. Black wings sprouted from his shoulders and his face was shadowed by a dark cape. Malachus hadn’t even been able to determine the color of his eyes, or if he had eyes.

I don’t understand.

You don’t have to. I’m not here to tell you what you’ve done, except that you chose this life.

I?

Yes, you’ve done something grave that led you to become one of us, Thanatos said, his strong voice echoing in the room.

What are you?

Reapers. Or as the humans call us, grim reapers.

And so began his training until he was twenty-one. Malachus was trained along with other lads, who became his friends, in the art of cloaking, gathering souls, leading them to their final destination and fighting the hellhounds. He was swift at using weapons and trained hard physically.

Freedom didn’t exist in its true sense. It would only come when he paid his debt and Uriel said he’d served his time. He’d never met the angel of death himself. Neither did he want to. Thanatos seemed gruesome enough.

The irony of his birth as the only son to a rich, devout Catholic family wasn’t lost on him. His father invested in the rural woodside of Redwood Meadows that later provided the source of their timber. Since it edged Indian land it was a focal point for business between the government and the natives. His father left behind little debt but lots of responsibility. The timber business boomed as Calgary flourished with oil money. Within a decade they’d moved to Britannia, Calgary’s wealthiest zip code and christened their new home, Woodside.

The car purred, splashing rainwater against the windows. He sought comfort from the calm, pitter-patter of the rain, allowing it to seep into his fallen soul.  Immediately he pulled out the list on his tab and went through the names. Three.

Caroline Fogaty, 57. Cause of Death: Stroke. Time of death: 2:30 am. Location: 30 Ave, SW Glenbrook.

Ned Logan, 24. Cause of Death: Head Injury secondary to a bike accident. Time of Death: 3:00 am. Location: Memorial Drive.

Lily Kay, 6. Cause of Death: Acute Lymphoid Leukemia. Time of Death: 3:337 am. Location: Alberta Children’s Hospital.

When the driver stopped outside the library, he got off and went to the back of the building. Malachus rented the basement in the building. There he wore his coat which made him invisible to humans. Malachus walked past his own Audi. His watchful driver stood blissfully unaware this his boss had just passed him.

He met Caroline by the bed, sitting and watching her daughter cry in an ambulance. Caroline Fogarty, he said. I’m here to take you to your final rest.

What if I don’t want to leave? the stodgy old woman said.

The way I see it, you don’t have a choice. Besides, your time here is done.

The woman took his hand and followed him. And so had Ned and Lily. Lily Kay had been far sharper when he led her to the library.

Is this where the secret door is?

What secret door? he asked.

The door to the other side, she said with hushed awe as he opened the door. She saw the walls covered from floor to ceiling with tiny cabinets. Each cabinet had a set of keys and a person’s name tag with their date of passing.

I don’t have any keys, Lily promptly informed him.

No worries, Malachus said and handed her a sheet of paper. You can make a special set for you.

And there he allowed her to draw a set of keys, which he shaped and molded from plaster of Paris. He offered her a glass of hot cocoa while she waited.

Lily squealed when she saw her own key made and used it to open the door to the other side. Her last words to him were, I see a light.

Later he hung the key in the cabinet assigned to Lily Kay. It was always tough to escort children. They asked so many questions, to which he had no answers. They were the happier ones though. The adults were often melancholic, regretful and sometimes argumentative. As if he had any authority over the decision of the Almighty. He was a mere minion, serving his own punishment for a crime he didn’t even know. Today hadn’t been so hard. Fall was a good season usually, light on the load but with winter fast approaching the death rates would increase. Thanatos had sent him a few mails about the missing souls. Three in his roster for the last decade. He closed his eyes and winced.

Lily’s cup of cocoa still sat on the table. He proceeded to rinse it and set it in place. Overall, the place was clinical with white shelves and cabinets. It had a fireplace, funnily enough when neither he nor his guests required any warmth. But it was part of the architecture that married traditional and contemporary. A single window opened to a back wall with climbing wisteria. The view seemed nostalgic and appealed to the romantics. To him, this place was just a transit for the many who had to cross over to the other side.

With his work done for the night, it was time to go home. He shrugged off his coat and hung it on the wall. There was no need for any more invisibility tonight. After he gave the place one last glance, he locked the door and left. This time when he got into the car he ordered, Woodside.

Perhaps tonight, he would lose himself to a deep, untroubled sleep. Maybe for a brief time, he could escape the blight of his own betrayal and the weight of responsibility. Yet, the memory of his actions caused him to retch while his car stopped in front of his grand residence.

His father’s dying words bestowing an obligation on him were, I know what you did, Malachus. I know what you did to Dara’s brother. Promise me you will marry her. You have to, after what you’ve done.

He’d married her within days and then unceremoniously dumped her at their Redwood Meadows estate to experience the cold hard place on her own. He had not set eyes on her since that fateful wedding night.

Don’t leave me here, she had said.

Malachus had no intention of staying. He did what had been asked of him.

He leaped from the car in haste to seek his craft beer, only to find another car parked in the driveway, one he recognized belonged to him. His Range Rover from Redwood Meadows. Damn. Taking the wide steps two at a time, he rushed up the stairs. He slammed open the doors.

Where the hell is she? he demanded.

In your study, came the response from the man who oversaw the house.

His gut tightened and his teeth clenched. His sanctuary. He allowed no one in there. Least of all her. He strode down the hallway with force, breathing rage. Red, hot and rising by the minute. Three long years of calm and the stupid woman dared to intrude on the life he’d created in her absence. With fury emanating from him, he stormed into the room.

She turned from her survey of his books lining the huge shelves just as he entered the room. It hit him hard. The sight of her. He’d done his absolute best to forget her, to slowly extricate her from his life and thoughts. Here she stood before him. His heart-stopping beautiful wife, Dara.

Chapter 2

She rehearsed this meeting countless times in her mind. She had no way of knowing what to expect of her husband. His temper, yes but her heart beating like jungle drums and this strange elation at seeing him, no. It surprised her. It was just like the day they’d married. Back then, her love for him had been eclipsed by mourning. She’d been grieving for her brother, Gabriel. There was also a strange fear of Malachus. Even now, he still terrified her slightly. There was something about his manner that separated him from other men. His height and the broad expanse of his chest— all spoke of a determined man who wielded authority.

That mysterious air surrounded him. An enigma of closely guarded secrets and paradoxes. She was no longer the naïve twenty-three-year-old she’d been when they were married. As the years dragged on, she’d matured. But even so, nothing could prepare her for this moment. His handsome face with unmasked disgust, framed by thick, platinum hair mussed, as if someone had run a hand through it. The straight hair had been worn long and a lock slashed across his face just over his eye.

Over the intervening years, she’d heard about the ruthless businessman he’d become. Relentless. Unforgiving. Hard as stone. Had marriage to her done that to him? He hadn’t always been like that. Not the teenage boy she knew and certainly not the man he’d become after he graduated college. His revulsion of her was plain to see as he turned away from her. He marched to the mini-bar where a collection of fine liquor stood proudly. She wondered what he intended to do. To choke her probably. There was nothing encouraging about his demeanor.

Had she expected him to hug her or kiss her? That was one of the many scenarios she’d played in her mind. It was not meant to be. If anything, his distaste of her had amplified. Definitely no hug or kiss.

She saw him as a savior when he asked her to be his wife. He’d stayed with her when her brother died. She’d known only kindness with him back then. Even after their wedding day when he drove her to Redwood Meadows his hold on her was gentle as if handling his mother’s china.

With his back to her, he busied himself with his Irish whisky. She heard the clinking of the glass and the tumble of ice. Then silence. She watched the back of his head, his jacket long gone. Just his shirt tucked carelessly into his trousers. He tossed back his head and she appreciated the way the shirt tightened on his taut body. Then he poured another. After another round, he finally faced her, one large hand wrapped around a tumbler filled nearly to the brim. How she would love for him to wrap those long slender fingers around her neck or any other part of her for that matter.

I don’t want you here, he said, his voice low, controlled, yet seething beneath the surface. I made myself very clear. You were to stay at Redwood Meadows and never visit me at Woodside. That was the arrangement we had between us. Or have you forgotten? He arched his eyebrow and his marble gray eyes blazed beneath his sooty eyelashes. Go back to Redwood, Dara. If there’s anything you need you can write or tell the manager, instead.

I’m not here for a holiday, she said raising her chin to him. She could say she was here for him, which was the truth but she didn’t. I have business to take care of and I need you.

There she said it. That hadn’t been so bad. It was a half-truth. But she did need him. Like a wife needed a husband.

Do I look like I give a damn about you?

She flinched at his harsh tone. Stupidity led her to believe that hours, days, months, years would dissipate some of his anger. She hesitated before walking toward him, halting when his eyes flashed. Fear. He was trying to intimidate her, she told herself. She refused to be cowed into submission.

Malachus, if I’ve done something to displease you, I’m sorry, her voice choked.

I don’t need an apology, he rasped.

Then what should I do? We can’t go on like this. It’s been three years. Why can’t we sort things out?

Go to hell! he said taking a large gulp of his whisky.

I’m already there. She released a bitter laugh. You don’t think I know of the many women you’re seeing. One society woman after another. A new one every week. If you wanted to humiliate me, you’ve accomplished your goal remarkably well. You made sure I knew.

I’m a free man to do as I please. I don’t owe you an explanation. Quite honestly, Dara, from the moment I deposited you at Redwood Meadows, I’ve not given a single thought to you.

It hurt. Yet, she ploughed on. How the mighty have fallen. You’ve changed. What happened, Malachus?

He strode over by the fireplace and dropped into the rocking chair near it. He looked forlorn clutching his tumbler staring into the dancing flames. The sound of crackling wood punctuated the quiet.   

She followed him and kept her gaze on him. Even now the shadow of the dancing flames highlighted his devastatingly breathtaking features. His face was an artist’s rendition: his aristocratic nose, square jaw like Michelangelo’s David, thick eyelashes and his marble grey eyes with a dark rimmed border. Often, she’d been questioned if her husband used kohl and she always said no. Honestly, even she doubted her answer.

Where he was once handsome, a wicked ruggedness had settled over her husband. He’d matured into a darkly appealing man. A man of the night. She’d known him for so long. Their families had been friends. She idolized him. When she scraped her knees as a child, she sought him out. Those times she needed help with college applications, she bothered him to no end. The six years between them hadn’t intimidated her.

She knew every detail about him. That he liked cool environs for holidays, his favorite food included anything with potatoes, he danced extremely well and ran a mile daily. She had intimate knowledge of his smile, how his teeth shone when he was up to no good, or how he tossed his head back to laugh when he found something really funny. He had not smiled once since she arrived.

She always said she would wait for him. Even when he was chasing bimbos as a college graduate or expanding his father’s business, they’d kept in touch. He’d been her brother, Gabriel’s best friend, often helping with the business. Malachus and Gabriel always had a wild streak. Some of that wildness in Gabriel was tamed. By a woman. He was dating her from what she knew and close to proposing when he died.

The police never ruled out murder. The case still remained open.  Malachus stepped in to help her with the estate and carpentry business that had been so profitable for years. Then his own father fell ill. Before his death, he wanted to see his son married and Malachus picked her as his bride. She’d been ecstatic. Her teenage dreams had come true.

On her wedding day, Gabriel’s death hung over them like a cloud. The ceremony was brief and with only close family and friends. She didn’t have the opportunity to select flowers or the church, plan a wedding party or even a first dance. She always assumed she would stay here in Calgary. Instead,