He frowns, and I feel the need to clarify.
“This is nicer than any house I’ve ever stayed in.”
I swear I see him relax just a touch.
I leave his side then, crossing the room. The man at my back is making me jumpy, but so is the fine bedroom with its embellishments. I can feel dirt and grime on my skin, and if this bedroom was sentient, I bet it would wrinkle its nose at me in distaste.
I sneak a peek into the closet, curious what I’ll find in there. Women’s clothing fills the space, all of it either neatly hung up or folded on the shelves. The sizes look all over the place, but there are so many outfits it seems to drown out the fact that the sizing is inconsistent.
“That’s yours,” Death says softly.
Wait. What?
I turn around, my eyes wide. “What do you mean, this is mine?”
Thanatos tilts his head down, his eyes looking up at me in a way that looks both shy and scheming. “They are items I thought you might like.”
Clothes he thought … ?
“You mean, they’re not the former owner’s things?”
Thanatos gives his head a soft shake.
If they’re not the owner’s things … then he must have gathered these items from elsewhere and brought them here.
My brows pull together as I study the horseman. Death wears a guarded look; he does not, however, appear embarrassed or possessive, or anything else to indicate that it is in fact weird to fill a closet full of women’s clothing in preparation for the captive you intend to kidnap.
I take in a deep breath as, all at once, it hits me.
He’s trying to care for me, like some sort of good partner. I mocked his first attempt, so now he’s found the biggest house with the nicest things to make up for it.
Don’t you dare be moved by this, Lazarus. Don’t do it.
In spite of my brain’s very sage advice, I thaw—just a little.
“You do realize this is not how humans do things, don’t you?” I probe.
“I am not human,” he says.
I glance away from him, my eyes landing on the bed sitting against the adjacent wall. The wine red comforter screams of decadent sex, and my heart speeds up at the sight of it.
“I’m supposed to sleep there?” I ask.
“If you like,” Thanatos says, and again, his words wake my body up. And he’s probably thinking about how I chose to sleep outside last time he took me, but I’m thinking about the weight of him on me, and the task I’ve been given.
What if … ? What if I walked up to him right now and kissed him as I did before? What if he kissed me back? What if I pulled him onto that bed and stripped him bare and laid siege to his lethal body?
I think he’d want that. I know I would—I might hate myself for it, but I would.
And yet my pulse is thundering and I’m panicking at the thought of initiating something and it is wild that I can hurt this man over and over again but I am terrified of truly laying myself bare for him.
Later. I’ll make my move later.
I’m such a coward.
“Can I have—can I have a moment?” I say.
“I don’t know what that means,” Death says.
“I want to be alone,” I clarify.
“If you try to leave—”
I flash him an intense look. “The last thing I intend to do is leave.”
Those strange, beautiful eyes of his scour my face, and the longer he takes in my expression, the more heated his own gaze gets. This thing between us that has been building for a year now is raw and aching and set to erupt.
After a terse several seconds, Thanatos inclines his head, and without another word, he leaves me to my thoughts.
Chapter 39
Sugar Land, Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
I stare down at my hands.
I pinch my eyes shut. I have no answers. No way to understand what Death’s brothers want me to do, or what I want, or anything else.
All I know is that it would be so easy to fall into Death’s arms. He’s beautiful, and for all his killing, he’s not evil. That’s probably what hurts my head the worst. He’s taken my family, he almost took my son, he’s going to try to take everyone else, and yet his heart isn’t wicked.
I’ve seen wicked.
I scrub my face and take a deep breath, my stomach tumbling as my thoughts go round and round.
I’d like to say that resolve is what eventually draws me out of my new room, but the truth is, I catch a whiff of something delicious, and I’m painfully hungry.
Who is cooking? Surely it isn’t Death? That would be one surprise too many.
Also, where is this kitchen?
I leave my room only to lose my way … and then lose it again.
Who even needs this much space?
I still haven’t figured out where the kitchen is when I make it to the living room. I come to a stop when I see Death standing before a wide window, his gaze fixed on something outside.
I swallow at the sight of those massive shoulders and large, folded wings.
Right now, with his back to me and his posture so still, he looks like those stone angels I’ve sometimes seen in cemeteries. The ones that look painfully sad. The whole thing makes me shiver.
“I’m back,” I say by way of greeting.
Death’s wings hike up, just a little; that’s the only indication he gives that I surprised him. When he rotates around, his gaze is somehow both guarded and painfully exposed.
He takes me in for several seconds. “I am surprised you wanted to be alone,” he admits. “I have been alone for so long, I have come to detest it. I assumed the same was true for you.”
“It was,” I admit.
Before Ben, I thought I’d go insane somewhere along those deserted stretches of highway.
Thanatos’s jaw clenches with emotion. Or maybe he’s just unused to anyone relating to him. That’s another type of loneliness—when your deepest truths are locked away and no one but you can hear them.
“It was,” he echoes, letting that sink in. After a moment, he takes a step forward, and I can tell by the sheen in his eyes that Death is about to spill more secrets.
“The only thing that ever helped me was replaying our interactions,” he admits. “And when those ran out, I imagined your voice and a thousand different conversations I might have with you. I yearned to hear my name fall from your lips. I yearned to see your face. To touch your skin.”
My breath hitches at his words. While I spent the last year reminding myself of all the reasons why Death was awful, he’d been doing this.
He looks me over. “Now that you’re here, however, I have this deep, abiding fear that this isn’t real—that you’ll fade away in the night. And for all my power, I cannot shake the feeling.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I remind him.
Thanatos gives me another one of his long looks. I’m pretty sure he’d stand there all day staring at me if I let him.
But then he surprises me.
“You must be hungry,” he says, coming forward.
“I am,” I say warily.
The horseman reaches my side and takes my hand.
I close my eyes at the sensation. I don’t think either of us has truly been touched in a long, long time, which makes every bit of physical contact that much more potent. And with Death’s words still echoing in my mind, I know that this simple touch must mean a lot to him as well.
“Come, my fallen adversary,” he says softly, tugging on my hand. “I have a victory dinner to attend, and you are my guest of honor.”
I open my eyes to look at him, but he’s already moving ahead, leading me through this massive house he’s clearly familiar with.
How long has he been prepping this place for me?
Thanatos leads me into a grand dining room that I missed because it lays on the opposite end of this mansion. Like the rest of the house, it is ornately furnished, with another crystal chandelier and a gilded mirror hanging above a massive fireplace. The table itself is an enormous thing. I count twelve chairs tucked around it, the wood’s dark surface polished to a gleam.