A/N: I want to thank all of my readers. You guys are the energy that keeps me going when I feel my stories are getting to be too much. I hope all of you are doing well and staying safe during these trying times! I plan to post two chapters today to make up for not posting last week.

Chapter 21

Nyah woke up to a gentle morning light bathing the room and wrapped around a warm presence. Not fully awake, she just lay there with her eyes closed and breathed in Matt's clean, fresh smell. How many times had she dreamed of waking up beside someone like this? It had always been Lei that she had imagined, though, and not her overprotective downstairs neighbor, but this was nice. Matt was a real, live person, not just a memory of a dream, like Lei. She snuggled closer to him to soak in his warmth and realness.

At her movement, Matt tensed, then his arm that she was laying on curled around her and pulled her closer and held her against him. She could hear his heart beating under her, strong and fast. He turned his body so that he was facing her instead of laying flat on his back and buried his face in her hair.

Neither of them said anything, they just lay there holding each other, offering comfort and human contact. Nyah cannot remember a time when she had been held like this, not even as a child. The thought caused a prickle of tears and her breath caught in her attempt to stave them off.

"It's okay," Matt whispered into her hair as his other hand stroked her hair, giving her permission to cry. But she refused to let the tears fall; she had cried enough over the years and she was tired of it. What was the definition of stupidity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? Well, she was tired of being stupid. Her recent dreams had been of Lei telling her to let him go. Whether it was her subconscious or his spirit speaking to her, the message was the same. She might be tied to his ashes forever, but maybe it was time to free her heart. It was a frightening thought, not living her life in the shadow of a dead man, not pining for something she could not have.

The thought brought a smile to her face; it had been a long time since she had been frightened of anything. Surely choosing her own path through life couldn't be that scary.

Matt pulled back to look down at her, confused by her sudden change. "What?"

She smiled up at him, tears no longer in her eyes and her soul feeling lighter than it had in a long, long time. "Thank you," she told him simply and raised up just enough to touch her lips to his in a chaste kiss.

Her action was met with a swift intake of his breath as he looked down at her searchingly, then his hand that had been stroking her hair pulled her back to him and his lips came down on hers. She should have been shocked, but all thoughts fled as he moved against her and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She tentatively kissed him back, lightly flicking the tip of her tongue against his lips.

The change in him was dramatic, holding her head still with his hand tangled in her hair, he took advantage of her slight opening, he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, stroking against hers. His had around her back pulled her even closer so she could feel every inch of his hard body from her knees to her breasts pressed tightly to his chest. She met his tongue with hers as she grew bolder and reached up to rest her hand on the side of his face. He released her lips and looked down at her questioningly. She answered by pulling him back down, her mouth eagerly seeking out his again.

He hungrily kissed her as if he was trying to crawl inside her. A desire she never knew she had rose in her and she arched her body against his and met his hunger with that of her own. With a groan deep in his throat, he rolled her onto her back and leaned over her, not breaking the kiss. He raised his now free hand and spanned her ribs with it just under her breast so that she could it brush the underside when she moved. Just the thought of that hand touching her breast made both her nipples harden. The friction of the shirt against them while pressed to Matt's chest was delicious and she arched her back to press them more firmly against him.

Breaking the kiss to allow both of them to catch their breath, Matt trailed kisses along her jaw and down to her neck where he kissed and sucked at the pulse frantically beating there. Nyah leaned her head to the side to give him better access and he moved lower to where her neck met her shoulder just above her collar bone. He sucked harder here and she gasped with pleasure. Then he bit down on the tender flesh, just hard enough to hurt a little but still feel good. The wet warmth that has developed between her legs intensified and she fisted her hands in bedsheets.

Never in all her imaginings about Lei had she felt this way, nor with the few men she had been with over the years. She wanted him so badly, she was ready to give him whatever he was willing to take.

The repeated ringing of a cellphone broke through to her brain and doused her arousal like a bucket of cold water. Matt pulled away from her with a frown and she took the opportunity to roll out from under him and off the bed.

"You better get that," she said. "It might be important." Then she made her escape to the bathroom before he could say anything.

In the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her hair was a mess from sleep, her lips were swollen from Matt's kisses, her nipples could still be seen through the material of his shirt, and there was a light bruise on her neck where it met her should from his love bite.

What the hell was she doing? Letting Lei go and living her own life was one thing, but who was she fooling to think she could ever have a normal relationship? Matt knew about her curse, but could he live with it? Knowing that, every month, she had to go out and find a way to die? Some would be easy or quick deaths, but not all, and he would be there when she came screaming and clawing her way back to life. How could a relationship like that last?

Then doubt crept in. Did he even want a relationship? Or was what happened just a momentary lapse of judgement on his part? Was she reading too much into it? Holy fuck! She was going to have a meltdown if she didn't quit!

There was a light knock at the door. "Hey," he called softly to her, "can I come in?"

Crap! This was the only bathroom in the apartment and he probably needed to use it.

She straightened up and pulled her shoulders back, then opened the door. He was standing in the middle of the doorway with a hand on each side.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I'll let you have it."

When she moved to leave, he moved to block her. She spun around his body with a graceful move and under his arm to escape the bathroom. Matt grabbed her arm before she could get away completely and swung her around, using his body to trap her against the wall.

"No, you don't," he ground out. "I'm not going to let you shut me out this time."

Anger rose in her. Who the hell was he to pry? He had so many secrets that he didn't share, what gave him the right to demand this of her?

She swung her leg, catching him by surprise and swept his feet out from under him, then darted by him. Instead of falling, though, he caught himself and came after her, grabbing her arm in a tight grip. Already angry, she acted instinctual, over 700 years of trained muscle memory kicking into action. She turned to the side, pulled her arm to bring him closer, and delivered an open palm punch to his ribs. The punch never landed, he brought his arm down to block it, not releasing her arm. She brought her foot up to sweep his knee, and he blocked that move also.

So, he hadn't been lying when he told her that he took martial arts lessons, she thought. Fine, but he was still blind, and she still had years of experience. She just didn't want to hurt him. Too much.

She twisted under his arm that held her and got behind him to force him to let go or torque his arm uncomfortably, but he twisted with her and ended up still facing her.

"Stop this!" he ordered her. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You stop, before I hurt you!" she retorted and brought her free hand down in a hard chop on his exposed wrist.

Instead of letting go, he yanked her up against his body and attempted to wrap his other arm around her to constrain her further. This time, she was able to use his height and her slight weight against him, crumpling in his grasp so that he had to catch her, putting him off balance. She quickly hooked a foot behind his knees and bent backwards, pulling him up and over her, then using his grasp on her arm as leverage to pull him completely over and dump him on the floor and finally breaking his grip on her. He landed with a thud but jumped agilely back to his feet to face her again.

Matt's face flushed red with anger as he came at her again. This time, she was just as angry. She'd had enough of this. It was time to cut her losses, grab Lei's ashes and get the hell out of Hell's Kitchen. He was between her and the urn, but she could change that.

He reached for her again and she blocked him with an elbow and struck out with a back-fist strike. He blocked it and swung at her in return, which she easily blocked, then countered. Blow, block, blow, block. He was good, but so was she as she allowed him to drive her away from the door of the room. With each exchange, she backed away and circled around the small room until she was up against the bedside table on the far side of the room from the door, effectively trapped between the bed and the wall.

She reached behind her and grabbed the lamp on the table. Why the hell did a blind person have a lamp in his bedroom? She whipped it around, ripping the cord from the plug and flung it at him as a diversion, then grabbed the urn and sprang onto the bed to make a run for the door. Unbelievably, he knocked the lamp flying at his head aside. How the hell?

"No! You aren't running away!" he yelled at her and jumped onto the bed to follow after her. Both of their weights landing on the bed simultaneously caused it to wobble precariously before one of the legs gave way under the strain and the end of the bed dropped to the floor with a crash, sending both of them careening off of it.

Nyah, landed first and dashed out the bedroom door and down the short hallway, Matt right on her heals. She might have beaten him to the apartment door, but he took a cue from her and grabbed the little table in the hall and flung it at her, making her dodge to the side to avoid it. She couldn't grab it or block it because she had the urn in that hand, so it crashed against the door, breaking apart and scattering wooden debris on the floor. That move put Matt between her and the door.

She jumped and swung her leg in a high kick to the side of his head. Again, he blocked and planted a palm punch to the middle of her chest, knocking her back a couple of feet. Nyah was through playing around and worrying about hurting him. She couldn't understand how he was so good at fighting; it was almost as if he could see; like he was just pretending to be blind. No matter, it was time to put an end to this.

She dropped the urn onto the couch beside her and launched herself at him. They traded blows and kicks as they circled each other, looking for an opening, a weakness in each other. Their styles were completely different; she moved like water and wind, full of grace and fluidity, while he moved like fire and earth, abruptly and violently. They were dynamic opposites, but evenly matched. Nyah used the furniture in the apartment to block his movements; putting the couch between them, trying to trip him with the coffee table, sliding the chair into a new position to change the flow of the room. Matt used the furniture as an extension of his fighting style; jumping up on the coffee table to leap at her, shoving the couch into her to force her out from behind it, grabbing the back of the chair to swing himself around fast to escape her kick.

Anything she could grab and lift, she threw at him, but he was able to dodge or block most of it. A book did catch him on the temple, but it was just a glancing blow, and didn't slow him down. He violently threw things out of his way to get to her, breaking them if necessary.

Nyah was getting no closer to beating him and making her escape when she saw an opportunity. After one furious exchange, she feigned a stumble and went down on a knee to make him think this was his chance. As he stepped forward to take advantage, he stepped on the edge of the rug between the couch and his chairs. She grabbed it, yanking it hard and sending him staggering backwards. He could have caught himself but stepped on a broken table leg that rolled under him. He crashed to the floor.

She jumped up, grabbed the urn off the couch, and ran past him to the door. Once again, though, he was quicker and more accurate than she gave him credit for, and he snagged her foot as she raced by. She went sprawling out on the floor and Lei's urn flew out of her hand. It bounced once, twice, the lid flying off on the second bounce. The third time it hit the floor the ashes it contain spewed out with a cloud of dust, all over the shoes and lower legs of Karen and she opened the door and stepped into the apartment.