River of Shadows (Underworld Gods #1)

The orgasm rips through me and I hold onto the sheets, feeling like I’m being flung somewhere very far away, a world beyond this and the next, and my skin is blistering as the need finally dissipates. I feel reduced to nothing but a puddle, while Death is still going, still working away at me even though my body has yet to come down from the ride.

He lets out another growl, this one pure instinct and animal, and I’m not sure if he’s even a God right now; I think he might be more primordial and simple than that. He fucks me like he’s born to fuck me, driven to come, like that’s all he ever wants to do.

The sounds are so hypnotic that I feel my sensitivity fade away, and I’m getting hot and swollen again, ready for more.

“Oh, God!” I cry out, and I can’t believe it.

I’m coming yet again.

“Yes,” Death grunts loudly. “Fly again, little bird. I want you sore in the morning.”

I’m riding this insane high, panting, moaning, screaming, swearing and then his fingers dig into my skin and I know he’s close, so close.

“Hanna,” he bellows, his voice filling the room as he climaxes.

My name sounds amazing on his lips.

The way he comes seems violent this time, the way his body shakes, the way his cock pounds inside me until finally he slows, sweat dripping onto my back.

I didn’t even know Gods could sweat, but I’m quickly learning they can do a lot of things.

Like fuck your brains out.

He collapses against me this time and my body buckles, slamming against the bed. I’m boneless, I’m floating, I’m just a soul crushed beneath Death, and he’s holding me hostage, yet he’s letting me live.

He’s letting me live.

This is living.





Chapter 18





The Full Moon





I press my fingers into my earlobes and look in the mirror, hoping to see the color change in the aurora stone studs. Ever since I got to Shadow’s End, I’ve tried to use the earrings to find a way to know if my father is still okay, still alive. But while the rock that Rasmus had would glow like the northern lights to let us know, the studs are so small that any flashes I see might be because of the way the stones have been cut.

In other words, I have no way of knowing if my father is all right. I came to the Land of the Dead hoping to find him, hoping that he was alive. Now I’m in this land, permanently, and he’s supposed to be back home and I’m still wondering.

“I wish there was some way I could know,” I say to Bell, my heart feeling waterlogged and heavy in my chest. I twist around in the chair and glance back at the tank. “Are there, like, messenger pigeons in this land or something?”

“There are ravens,” she says, tapping her hands against the glass like she’s the drummer for Tool. “Feathers and bones, mainly, but they deliver messages between Stragglers, Gods and spirits alike. Now, they don’t fly between this world and the next. The soulbirds do though, but they don’t deliver messages. Not in the way you mean.”

I sigh and look back at my reflection in the mirror. I look better than I’ve ever looked. My eyes are bright, my cheeks flushed—I have a real glow about my skin. Perhaps eating like the Gods do has really agreed with me.

Or maybe it’s getting eaten out by a god, I think, trying not to smile at the thought.

“You know, when you marry Death, when he falls in love with you, he may let you visit the Upper World,” Bell points out. “And if not, he may at least send someone to check on your father. Deliver messages and the like.”

I give her a wry look over her shoulder. “You know I’m going to miss your confidence in me.”

She shrugs and goes back to tapping her hands. “Why shouldn’t I have confidence in you?”

I shake my head. She makes it sound so easy. Yes, I’m now getting fucked by Death on a regular basis, our midnight trysts where I take it from behind and he remains this mysterious force that makes me see stars, have happened for the last few nights. But that’s as far as the progress goes. When I see Death during the day, it’s like the whole sex thing has never happened. Our interactions are brimming with sexual tension, but we don’t talk about what we do to each other at night.

“And anyway, I hope that’s not all you’ll miss about me,” she adds with a bright smile, drumming away.

She’s nervous. Tonight is the night, when the full moon will appear and I have to call upon this Kuutar to get Bell safe passage. If she has confidence in me in getting Death to fall in love (highly unlikely), I think she has a little less confidence in me getting her out of here. I don’t blame her. I’m a mere mortal, I don’t know what I’m doing here. But I’ll follow her instructions to the letter and do my damn best. And I guess there’s always the next full moon, right? Providing Death doesn’t discover her by then.

“I’ll miss many things about you,” I assure her. “But what I won’t miss is someone listening to me have sex and making notes about it to discuss with me the next day.”

She laughs melodically and then goes back to tapping.

Of course the timing of everything that’s been going on makes tonight’s mission a little more difficult. The weather has to cooperate, which means the sky must be clear, so that we can see the moon. Which means that Death has to either be asleep, or he has to be having sex with me (or just finished having sex with me). So, when I take Bell on her escape mission, I have to wait until Death is asleep.

Now, after we have sex, he usually puts his mask back on and leaves before I have a chance to see him in his natural state, or talk to him. He’s not much for the apres-fuck chitchat, and frankly neither am I. But if for some reason he were to stay, that would royally fuck shit up.

Lucky for me, I have all day to fret about it. Time passes slowly, or maybe it stands still, goes backwards, it’s hard to say.

Raila brings my dinner to my room as usual—I haven’t been the guest of honor at dinner since the first time—and I barely have an appetite, even though the cook, Pyry, has created yet another delicious Tuonela meal (birch-smoked pike with mashed fire pumpkins and grilled dusk lettuce leaves). I do drink a few mugs full of starwater mead—which tastes like an orange Creamsicle, and is apparently very rare—enough to gather up my courage.

Then, when night falls, the mist cloaking the castle in black velvet tendrils, I lie on my bed and wait for Death. I don’t mean literally, of course.

He comes in.

Takes me.

I don’t turn around, I don’t see his face.

I just submit and succumb.

Oh, and I thoroughly enjoy it.

But aside from his filthy mouth, few words pass between us, and then like usual, he’s gone.

Normally I pass right out into the deepest sleep, but not tonight. The moment the door closes behind him, I’m getting out of bed and slipping my nightgown back on. I grab a candle holder and light the candle, then go over to Bell’s tank, peering in. The candlelight makes her white scales shimmer, the flame reflected in her aquamarine eyes.

“Are you ready?” I whisper to her.

She nods. “I’m ready.”

“So how should I do this?” I ask, feeling awkward. “How long did you say you can survive outside of the tank for?”

“Hours,” she says. “We have plenty of time. Just pick me up and carry me.”

I have to admit, the idea seems weird. I’ve never picked up anyone before and carried them, not even a baby and certainly not a tiny mermaid creature.

She rolls her eyes. “Treat me like a doll if you have to.”

I laugh. “Oh you don’t want that. All my Barbie dolls were missing their heads by the time I was done with them.” Not to mention the compromising positions I always left them in with dick-less Ken.

“I trust you won’t lose my head,” she says wryly, then she reaches up toward me with her arms. “Now let’s get going while the Moon Goddess is still out.”

I still don’t feel comfortable holding her, especially since she’s part fish and probably very slippery, so I go and grab my boot and then hold it to the edge of the fish tank.

“Climb in there,” I tell her.