Page 11 of Definitely Dead (Happily Ever Afterlife #1)

Chapter eleven

O n a positive note, Sunne had woken up in his own body this time. Unfortunately, his body happened to be in hell. And he knew exactly who to blame for it.

As he and Aster had traded places for the last time, the mage had left him with a smug parting shot.

“Enjoy the Whisper Woods, sunshine.”

While he didn’t normally condone violence, in this instance, he might be willing to make an exception.

Black trees with knotted trunks crowded together, leaving only winding paths through the dense woods. Leaves rustled in the breeze, whispering to him as he passed, but no matter how much he strained, he couldn’t make out their words.

And it never stopped.

The voices followed him, a constant murmur that filled his ears and burrowed into his mind. Sometimes, he would hear his name called, or so he thought. When he would turn to look, however, he found only trees and thorny, tangled undergrowth.

The thick canopies blotted out the sky, yet a steady rain covered the forest. The icy drops pattered against the ground, soaking everything it touched and forming puddles along the muddy trails.

Tightening his hood, Sunne ducked his head as he traveled the worn path, searching for…something. Food? Shelter? A way out? He didn’t know, but he felt compelled to keep walking.

The scent of damp moss and rotting wood swirled on the wind, along with something sickeningly sweet he couldn’t quite place. It lingered, saturating the air, and every breath pulled the odor deeper into his lungs, stinging his nose and making his stomach roil.

He didn’t know how long he’d been wandering the forest, but it felt like eternity, and he had yet to encounter another soul. Still, he swore he heard footsteps—creeping, stalking, keeping pace with him from somewhere within the trees. Twice, he’d caught a flash of green, a pair of glowing eyes, but when he’d stopped to investigate, they had vanished from sight.

Back in the village, he had heard murmurs about a place called the Tombs, spoken in only hushed tones like a story told around a campfire. It was a place of damnation, of punishment, reserved for only the most wicked. A place where hope went to die.

People feared it, and for good reason, but he had never heard them speak about the Whisper Woods. Maybe they didn’t know of its existence. Or maybe they pictured it as more of a slap on the wrist, a timeout given for bad behavior.

They’d be wrong.

While not physically painful—a fact for which he was immeasurably grateful—he didn’t know how long he could withstand the psychological torment. Constantly on edge, paranoia had already started to pollute him, making him suspicious of every creak and groan of the forest.

Rounding a bend in the path, he came to a sudden stop, his heart thundering inside his chest when he felt a familiar presence pushing at his mind.

“Tyr? Tyr, can you hear me?”

His only reply was the constant whispering of the leaves.

Sunne sighed and shook his head. Of course, Tyr wasn’t there. While he had no doubt his mate would come for him if he could, he didn’t think the Whisper Woods was a place the shifter could follow.

Sighing, he rounded his shoulders against the rain and started walking again.

Still, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he had imagined it, the familiar feeling stayed with him, pressing against him with a comforting weight. It built, growing stronger with each step, until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Tyr!” he shouted inside his mind. “Tyr! Where are you? I can feel you. I know you’re here. Please answer me.”

Again, he was met with only silence.

Maybe it was a trick of the forest, a mimicry designed to elicit a flicker of hope, only to extinguish it. To make him think someone was coming for him, when in fact, Tyr probably didn’t even know where he’d gone. Cunning, cruel, and highly effective as a means of torment.

Then, when he thought things couldn’t get worse, the Whisper Woods once again proved him wrong.

A frigid wind howled through the trees, cutting through his jacket and stinging his exposed skin. Rain whipped around him, pelting his face like tiny shards of glass, and a dense, impenetrable fog rolled out of the forest to swallow the trail. It swirled around his ankles and up his legs, rising from the ground and dispersing until it blanketed everything in its path.

The icy fingers of fear crawled down Sunne’s back, and his heartbeat pulsed in his throat, but he kept going, compelled deeper into the unknown. He moved slower now, every step uncertain, but he never stopped, driven by a desperate need to find something—or someone.

“Tyr!” he tried again, still grasping to his last shred of hope. “Tyr!”

This time, he was met with not silence, but a crackling buzz, like static on the radio.

His breath caught, and he spun in a circle, squinting through the fog, but he could make out only the blurred shadows of the surrounding trees.

“Tyr! Can you hear me? Tyr!”

“I hear you, lelien . There’s no need to shout.”

A sob tore from his throat, the sound deadened by the fog, and his legs trembled, threatening to give out from under him. By some miracle, he managed to remain upright, stumbling forward blindly with renewed determination.

“Where are you?”

“I’m coming for you,” Tyr promised. “Stay on the trail. I’ll find you.”

Sunne clung to the promise as he stumbled through the fog, his mind a wild, vibrating tangle of emotions. Cold water seeped into the denim around his ankles as he splashed through the deep puddles. It sloshed inside his sneakers, numbing his toes and making every step echo with an uncomfortable squelch.

“What if you can’t find me?” he asked, giving voice to his clawing anxiety. “What if we’re both trapped here forever?”

“Just stay on the trail,” Tyr repeated. He sounded calm, confident, leaving no room for niggling doubts. “I will find you.”

Suddenly, a low, rasping growl pierced the quiet, reverberating through the mist and sending chills down Sunne’s spine. He froze, his breath hitching, his eyes darting frantically in search of the source.

Then everything went quiet. Even the whispers stopped, plunging him into the kind of eerie silence that squeezed and suffocated.

“Tyr?” he called into the gloom.

That revoltingly sweet aroma intensified, reminiscent of spoiled honey drizzled over something long dead. The putrid stench invaded his nostrils and clogged his throat, provoking a violent gag that made his eyes water. Saliva flooded his mouth when his stomach revolted, forcing bile back up his esophagus, but he swallowed thickly, refusing to give in to his body’s weakness.

“It’s not real,” he told himself. “It’s just a trick.”

Another illusion. Another mindfuck, courtesy of the damned forest, meant to keep him on edge, afraid, and paralyzed.

He took a step, then another, putting one foot in front of the other, his confidence growing when nothing horrible happened.

Until it did.

Something hard and sticky slammed into him from the side, the impact lifting him off his feet and sending him sailing through the air. He smashed into the thick trunk of a nearby tree, the bark scraping against his hands and cheeks, then crumpled to the ground with a wet thud.

He wheezed out a sharp breath as the air was forced from his lungs, but he didn’t have time to collect himself or regroup. Rolling through the mud, he pushed into a semi-upright position and scrambled away from the path, crab-walking until his shoulder blades met with the tree again.

It emerged from the fog, silent, predatory.

Prowling through the mist, it towered over him like an inky shadow, its black fur matted and patchy, revealing the rotting flesh that sloughed in sheets from its body. Stark white vertebrae protruded from the skin along its spine, and its face had disintegrated in places, revealing a misshapen skull beneath.

Once upon a time, it might have been a wolf, but only in the loosest sense of the definition.

The beast’s lips had rotted away, leaving only rows of sharp, yellowed teeth tinged in red and dripping with things Sunne would rather not contemplate. Every breath sounded like a death rattle, a garbled huff that caused black foam to bubble at the corners of its gaping mouth.

Sunne pressed himself against the tree, his heart pounding in his ears and thudding against his sternum. The fact that he was already dead did nothing to lessen the chilling terror that consumed him.

The Whisper Woods were supposed to be a place of eternal punishment. Being ripped apart by a hellspawn didn’t feel all that eternal, meaning he would likely survive the attack, and somehow, that was even more horrifying.

Would he become like the wolf? Wandering the forest while he slowly rotted from the inside out? Or would he simply respawn like some unhinged video game, only to repeat the process again and again until he went mad?

His breaths came in ragged gasps now, his chest heaving as he struggled to come to terms with his own impending fate. The wolf crept closer, its crimson eyes burning with a feral light that promised pain. Though it moved silently, every step seemed to echo throughout the forest like a ticking clock.

He squeezed his eyes closed, unable to face the inevitable, but the darkness didn’t bring relief. Instead, it became a blank canvas for his imagination to paint the carnage that awaited him.

Time slowed, stilled, each second dragging out into an eternity. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the beast closing in, could smell the decay on its breath. He clawed at the sodden earth, his fingers digging into the mud as he grasped for something real to hold on to.

And then there was silence. A final, deafening pause before the world exploded around him.

Branches snapped and trunks splintered, the ancient trees bowing to the raw power that ripped through the forest. Then a loud, primal roar rent the air, echoing through the mist like a thunderclap that shook the ground and sent a shiver through the woods.

Startled out of his panic, Sunne’s eyes snapped open, and his lips parted in a silent scream as dirt, leaves, and rotted wood exploded out of the darkness. The reprieve from sudden death triggered survival instincts that had been rendered numb, and he launched to his feet to dive behind the tree. Crouched away from the danger, he peeked around the massive trunk, his body primed for flight as he watched the battle rage.

At least eight feet tall at the withers and covered in glistening ebony fur, the bear charged out of the woods like a dark, vengeful god. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend around his hulking frame, and the atmosphere crackled as it reacted to his fury.

But Sunne wasn’t afraid, not anymore. Salvation had arrived in a blur of fangs and claws…and one very pissed off mate.

Grunts, growls, and threatening chuffs rang out, and blood painted the nearby trees as the beasts bit and clawed at each other. Again and again, they came together in a clash of teeth and rage, rolling across the ground and slamming into trees as they vied for dominance, for victory.

Though brutal, the fight didn’t last long, concluding with a fearsome roar and an ear-splitting howl, the latter cut off abruptly with hollow finality.

“You can come out now, lelien ,” Tyr whispered into his mind a few moments later.

Still shaking, Sunne stepped out from behind the tree and took a reluctant step back onto the path. “Is it dead?”

The bear—his mate—chuffed, almost like a laugh, as it turned to face him. “Of course. Did you doubt me?”

“Not even for a second.” Rushing forward, he wrapped his arm around the creature’s front leg and burrowed into the thick fur. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

The air shimmered and vibrated when his mate transformed, his bones crunching and grinding as they realigned. When the shift was complete, Tyr stood before him, naked, battle-worn, and wearing a smug, content grin.

“I told you I’d find you.”

Relieved laughter bubbled up inside him and burst from his mouth. “Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?”

Tyr shrugged. “You know I like to make an entrance.”

Eyes swimming with unshed tears that blurred his vision, Sunne couldn’t hold back any longer. He couldn’t keep pretending that he didn’t need his mate like he needed to breathe.

With a hiccupping sob, he threw himself into Tyr’s arms, clinging to him like he was the only safe harbor in a violent storm. The Guardian clutched him tight, crushing him against his chest in a bruising hold as he buried his face in Sunne’s hair and inhaled deeply.

“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again,” he demanded, his voice deep and guttural.

Sunne laughed, and even to his own ears, he sounded a little unhinged. “Promise.”

Leaning back, he stared up at Tyr, drinking in the sight of him. Their eyes met in the kind of soul-deep communication that had been written about in books and poems.

In his mate’s eyes, he saw relief, love, and an unwavering devotion that blurred lines between right and wrong, love and death. In those mismatched pools of deep brown and bright amber, he saw a future he had never dared to hope for, and he wanted it. All of it. More than he had ever wanted anything.

Then Tyr’s mouth was on his, hard and demanding, forcing his lips apart as his mate ravaged him. Sharp fangs scraped his bottom lip, and the coarse hairs of his mate’s beard rubbed against his chin, his cheeks, adding a delicious friction he had come to crave.

One hand slid into his hair, the other wrapping gently around his throat, holding him immobile as Tyr undid him, taking him apart piece by piece. And as the realization of what he’d almost lost sank in and took root, those soft feelings took on a sharp edge, turning darker, greedier.

They had survived the impossible. Against all odds, they had found each other in a godforsaken wasteland. But it wasn’t enough to know. He needed to feel it.

He grasped at Tyr’s naked body, scraping his blunt nails across the shifter’s skin, desperate to mark him in some way. To exclaim to the world that this man belonged to him, and him alone.

Tyr growled, and his hand tightened around Sunne’s throat. Not painfully, but in a way that said he understood…and he approved.

Then the hand was gone, sliding between them to fumble with Sunne’s waistband. Working to free him from the denim, Tyr walked him backward, their mouths still fused together in a tangle of tongues and lips.

Sunne gasped when his back collided with a nearby tree, his pulse pounding out a frantic rhythm that vibrated through his body. His jeans were shoved down his hips, freeing his swollen cock, and Tyr spun him around, securing him against the trunk.

A loud groan tore from his throat when Tyr fisted his erection, the cold fingers doing nothing to dim his desire. His hips bucked, and he thrust forward, fucking into the tight grip.

His fingers clawed against the tree, clutching for stability when the bark peeled and crumbled beneath his touch. Steam rose from his overheated skin as the rain continued to fall, pelting against his face and neck, and clouds of vapor puffed from his lips with every panted breath.

He pressed his thighs together when he felt Tyr’s thick length slide between them, providing a narrow tunnel as his mate rutted against him. Every hard thrust pushed his cock through the circle of Tyr’s hand, dragging him under a wave of pleasure that stole his breath and made his head spin.

“I’ll always give you what you need,” Tyr growled next to his ear, his hips grinding against Sunne’s upturned ass. “Now come for me, lelien . Let go and come for me.”

Sunne tensed, every muscle in his body contracting as he came apart. Throwing his head back, he cried out his mate’s name to the sky, his cock erupting in streams of thick, pearly cream.

Behind him, Tyr snarled, the sound more animal than man, his massive body shuddering around him. Then he thrust forward once more and stilled, a groan echoing through the forest as he spilled wet heat between Sunne’s clenching thighs.

Then corded arms wound around his waist, holding him gently as the urgency dimmed and faded.

“Fuck, I needed that.”

Tyr chuckled, resting his brow against the back of Sunne’s neck. “Same.”

Before they had even caught their breath, though, the forest exploded into a frenzy of sound again, reminding them why lingering wasn’t a good idea.

Pulling his jeans up, he grimaced at the stickiness that coated the inside of his thighs. Once he had his clothes put to rights, he turned and rested a hand on his mate’s chest, urging him closer to brush their lips together.

“I love you.” He punctuated the statement with another whisper of lips. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”