Cliff’s Descent by Dianne Duvall

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emma wrapped her arm around Cliff’s waist and leaned into his side as they climbed the steps, crossed the porch, and headed inside, so happy to have him here with her. She hadn’t known what to expect. If he would be struggling the way he had been the last time they’d been together in Mr. Reordon’s boardroom. If she would even see him at all. But he looked good.

Reluctantly relinquishing her hold on him, she moved away and watched him close and lock the door.

No. He looked great.

Reallygreat.

His manner had been tense, his body taut with carefully restrained aggression, for so long that she’d forgotten how freaking hot he used to look when he strolled toward her. Spellbound, she watched him approach, every movement deliciously fluid, his muscles loose and rippling beneath his clothing.

How long had it been since she’d seen him this way?

It made her heart pound as swiftly as if it were their first date.

His stomach growled.

She grinned.

His lips turned up in a wry smile as he rested a hand on his muscled abs. “Sorry. I think it’s been a couple of days since I ate.”

Emma lost her smile. “They wouldn’t let you eat?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t eat. I fell asleep shortly after I got back to network headquarters and didn’t wake up until a couple of hours ago.”

“Kate said you were tranqed.”

His eyebrows rose. “Kate from Mr. Reordon’s office?”

“Yes.” Crossing to the kitchen, she breathed a sigh of relief when he stayed with her. She felt clingy as hell and didn’t want to let him out of her sight. “She thought I’d want to know you made it back safely.”

“That was kind of her.”

“I thought so, too.” She studied him. “Were you tranqed?”

He shrugged. “That’s what they tell me.”

Worry nibbled at her. “You don’t remember?”

“No. I don’t remember any of it.”

Did that mean he didn’t remember basically telling her goodbye or the determination she’d read in his eyes to end his existence?

Did that mean he intended to keep fighting?

Taking a vase down from a kitchen cabinet, she filled it with water and arranged the flowers in it. “Todd said everyone has been singing your praises. He said you impressed the hell out of them by safely guiding the immortals through all the booby traps and fail-safes.”

He nodded. And she loved seeing happiness light up his deep brown eyes again. “That’s what they’re saying. I worried at first that Bastien and Melanie might be bullshitting me to make me feel better, but…” He shrugged. “Mattheus—one of the immortals who went with us that night—said it was true. He said I got them all through injury-free.”

Not without great cost to himself, but Emma could see how much it meant to him that he’d done something truly heroic. “That’s wonderful, honey.” She couldn’t resist giving him another hug.

His hands settled on her hips as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers in a slow, sensual kiss.

Emma moved closer, leaning her body into his as she parted her lips. His tongue gave hers a teasing stroke, inciting a hum of approval.

His hands tightened, urging her even closer.

His stomach growled.

Both laughed.

Emma patted his chest. “Let’s get some food in you.”

The hours that followed reminded her of the early days of their relationship. Side by side, they worked together to whip up a quick meal of salad, pasta, and the baguettes Cynthia had brought when she’d visited earlier. While they did, they laughed and talked, exchanging quick kisses and affectionate caresses. By some unspoken mutual agreement, neither mentioned the battle, his condition, or his future. They simply enjoyed each other’s presence.

Emma set the coffee table with a white runner and candles. Then they sat cross-legged on the floor across from each other, knees brushing.

Emma told him Cynthia’s plan to spark the vampires’ curiosity about Todd’s prowess in bed. He laughed and shared some of the things the vampires teased Todd about.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much. And Cliff seemed wonderfully happy and carefree. Charming and funny. Every time a tiny voice inside wished he could always be thus, she pushed it back into the deepest recesses of her mind. Tonight she would forget everything else and enjoy this eye of the hurricane, this calm between storms. Tonight they were just an ordinary couple, completely enraptured with each other.

Once they finished dinner and cleared the dishes, they headed outside. Cliff arranged her speaker on the front porch and cycled through her phone’s playlists. Then Nat King Cole began to sing “Unforgettable.”

“Perfect,” she said. This whole night was unforgettable.

Smiling, Cliff took her hand. “Most Immortal Guardians like older music. And I’ve spent a lot of time around Bastien and Aidan, so I’ve really grown to appreciate it.”

She smiled. Her grandparents had sparked her own love of oldies.

Cliff led her down the steps and onto the grassy dance floor. There he issued her a gallant bow, then drew her into his arms.

Emma hadn’t danced with many men in the past. The boys in high school had just linked their hands at the base of her spine and swayed a little. College guys had done the same.

Not Cliff though. Cliff entranced her. He made her feel special. Loved. It reminded her of the way her parents danced. Her mom and dad had been married for going on forty years. And no matter how busy or chaotic life got, they always danced together on their anniversary.

Cliff took Emma’s right hand in his left and pulled her close. His right arm slid around to her back, his warm hand delivering a soft caress. Emma slid her left hand up his arm to his shoulder, happy to discover his muscles still loose and limber instead of tightened into knots. And when only inches separated them, they began to move. To the side. Backward. To the side. Forward. Angling in such a way that they traveled in slow circles. Every once in a while he would step back and raise their clasped hands, encouraging her to walk a slow twirl beneath them before returning to his embrace.

And his gaze always held hers, making her feel as if she was the most beautiful and most loved woman in the world.

Tonight he even sang, his deep voice joining Nat King Cole’s in professing her unforgettable as they danced beneath the moonlight. It was magical.

Hewas magical.

“I’m so in love with you,” she murmured.

Smiling, he swiveled slightly and lowered her in a gentle dip. “You’re the love of my life, Emma.”

She had never been happier than in that moment.

Once the song ended, Nat King Cole began to croon “Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup.” Then “Pretend.” “For Sentimental Reasons.”

And when at last they abandoned the dance floor and went inside, Cliff made love to her with aching tenderness, then with a playfulness that sparked laughs and chuckles as well as gasps of ecstasy, then once more with a tenderness that stole her heart all over again.

Afterward, instead of spooning, they lay facing each other, their limbs entwined, and talked softly, laughing and teasing. Instead of tightening with tension, his muscles remained relaxed. Instead of darkening with frustration and anger as he struggled to combat the voices in his head, Cliff’s beautiful face lit with frequent smiles.

He was captivating. He was loving. He was everything she’d ever wanted.

Emma wished the night would never end.

Alas, dawn waited for no man. So they dressed quietly and headed for the door. Leaning into him, Emma touched her lips to his. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

Cliff kissed her again, pouring so much emotion into the contact that it brought tears to her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, a gentle smile touching his lips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Emma. Don’t ever forget that.”

A sense of foreboding infiltrated her.

He stepped back.

“Cliff?” she asked, afraid all of a sudden. Reaching out, she took his hand.

Still smiling, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I have to go. The sun will rise soon.”

But when he turned away, she didn’t let go. She couldn’t. Her heartbeat picked up. “Cliff,” she repeated.

“Bastien’s waiting,” he reminded her as he carefully tried to extricate his hand.

Emma shook her head. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Her mind raced, reviewing their evening together.

Everything he’d said. Everything they’d done. Every minute of it.

It had been perfect.

It had been too perfect.

When Cliff managed to free himself, she ducked around him, planted herself in his path, and refused to let him leave.

He closed his eyes. “Emma,” he protested softly.

And there it was, a flicker of finality in his expression that terrified her.

Raising her hands, she cupped his face. “Cliff, look at me.”

He opened his eyes.

Hers filled with tears, those born of both anguish and denial. “You’re telling me goodbye,” she choked out. “That’s what this has all been about. The flowers and the dinner and the dancing.” The aching tenderness with which he’d made love to her. “You’re going to die today, and you’re telling me goodbye.”

His silence betrayed his guilt.

Releasing him, she shook her head and backed away. “Why?” He seemed so well tonight. Like his old self. She knew it wouldn’t last. His lucid moments never did. But… if he could still have nights like this, didn’t that mean there was still hope?

She couldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up.

Sadness darkened his beloved features. “I wanted one more night with you,” he acknowledged. “I needed one more night with you and—”

“But you’re better,” she blurted. “You were smiling and laughing. You didn’t mutter to yourself or pace or shout at the voices once. And Todd said you did great the night of the battle, that you were a true hero.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t make up for the fact that I almost killed an immortal female.”

Damn it. He did remember that. “But you didn’t kill her. And you saved lives the night of the battle. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

A weary sighed escaped him. “Sweetheart, you knew this was the way our time together would end. You’ve always known it. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

She stared at him. “Harder?” Anger rose, as did her voice. “You don’t want me to make it harder? I thought you died two nights ago! I thought you died and that I’d never see you again. Then you show up here, looking so damned handsome and healthy and are happy and charming and loving and we have the best night of my life and you give me this perfect memory, then tell me not to make it harder—” Her breath hitched as the truth dawned.

More tears welled in her eyes and spilled over her lashes. Pain inundated her. “You wanted to give me the perfect memory,” she whispered.

His throat worked in a swallow. “Yes.”

“Cliff,” she murmured, both a thank-you and a plea.

This hadn’t just been about what he needed. It had been about what he’d known she needed, too. He hadn’t wanted her last memory of him to be what it would’ve been if he hadn’t come tonight: him standing before her, eyes glowing, face full of anguish and self-loathing and—yes—suffering as he told her I can’t be like this anymore.

He’d wanted her last memory of him to be a good one, a loving one she could hold close and cherish in his absence.

Biting back a sob, she spun around, yanked the door open, and left the house.

“Emma,” Cliff called after her.

Ignoring him, she hurried down the steps and stomped across the grass toward the car parked beside hers in the driveway.

The driver’s door opened and Bastien stepped out.

“Did you know?” she demanded. “Did you know he was coming here to tell me goodbye?”

His jaw clenched. “I suspected it.”

“Well, you need to talk him out of it. Whatever he has planned, you need to talk him out of it, Bastien.”

“I can’t,” he said, face grim.

“That’s bullshit.”

“I can’t,” he repeated. “It’s his choice, Emma.”

“A choice he made before he went into battle to rescue you.” She jabbed him in the chest. “You and Melanie and Aidan and everyone else who was captured. He went there to save your asses, and he did. He led all of your immortal brethren safely through those fucking booby traps, suffering injury after injury so they wouldn’t and could rescue you.” Again she poked him. “He saved you. Now you need to save him.”

Cliff spoke softly behind her. “He can’t save me, Emma.”

“Bullshit.” She shifted so she could see them both. “He can and he will.”

“No, he can’t.” The certainty in Cliff’s words pierced her like a knife.

She stood there in the silence that fell, her heart breaking, absolutely devastated. “So… what? You’re going to wait for the sun to rise and let it burn you to death?” Was that why he’d stayed longer than usual?

“No.”

She looked at Bastien. “You’re going to decapitate him?”

“If he asks me to, I will.”

She stared at Bastien helplessly. “How can you do that? He’s your friend.”

His throat worked in a swallow. “That’s why I can do it.”

“He isn’t going to decapitate me,” Cliff said. “He won’t have to.”

So Cliff intended to take his own life?

She didn’t know why that seemed worse, but it did. Emma took a step toward him. “Cliff, honey, you don’t have to do this. Look how much better you are tonight. If you just give it a little more time—”

“I don’t have more time.”

“I know you’re worried this lucidity won’t last, that things will get bad again, but—”

“I don’t have more time, Emma,” he repeated. “Even if I wanted more time…” He shook his head. “I’m all out of it. It’s over.”

He almost sounded as if he did want more time, that he wasn’t ready to give up the fight, that the choice wasn’t his.

“I don’t understand.”

Closing the distance between them, he took her hands. “Something happened at the base.”

She stared up at him. Something other than him nearly dying? “What do you mean?”

“When I triggered the fail-safes…” He squeezed her hands, then shook his head. “Some of the blades that cut me and stabbed me were coated with chemicals. Melanie thinks most of it was the tranquilizer. But they found poison on some.”

“Poison doesn’t affect vampires and immortals,” she said.

“This one does.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Bastien take a step toward them. “What?”

“Emma,” Cliff said, holding her gaze. “The poison cured me.”