His starry eyes flash. In an instant his hand closes over mine, and he brings the bread I hold up to his lips. He stares at it for a moment, scowling.
“Everything in me revolts against this,” he admits.
“Then you must really want that kiss.” I say a bit breathlessly. I’m trying to make light of it, but inside, I feel raw.
Death’s eyes meet mine. Yes, they seem to say.
While our gazes are locked, he brings the bread the rest of the way to his mouth. Without looking away from me, he takes a bite.
That seems to break the spell.
His face twists into a grimace, and I see him gag a little as he awkwardly chews, then forces the bite down.
“It’s awful,” he gasps out.
I can’t help it, I start laughing—I laugh so hard my entire body shakes with it.
“It’s really not,” I say, quieting down.
His eyes have returned to my face, and despite looking a little queasy, he stares at me like he’s never seen anything like me before.
“Do that again,” he says quietly.
“Do what?” I ask.
“Laugh.”
I give him a confused smirk. “I can’t just do it on call. Tell me a joke and I might.”
He stares at my lips some more. “Hmmm …” Rather than telling a joke, he takes my hand and tries another bite of the bread—and proceeds to gag again.
“I can’t—eat this,” he admits. “It’s … atrocious.”
He grabs the wine his skeletal servant poured for him, presumably to wash the taste out, but it’s wine he’s drinking, not water, and this too, is an acquired taste.
Thanatos nearly spits the liquid out, only stopping himself by pressing his fist to his mouth. Behind that fist, his face looks sickly.
His throat works over and over before he manages to swallow it all down.
“Devils, woman,” he wheezes out, his face twisting at the taste. “What is that?”
But now I’m laughing again. I shake my head, unable to tell him.
Death is doing his best to wipe his mouth with his hand, even as he watches me intently. “And you’d have me believe that life is enjoyable,” he mutters.
With one last grimace, he drops his hand, his eyes fixed to me, and I’m pretty sure he only took a second bite of bread to hear me laugh again. That thought sobers me up, even as unwelcome warmth spreads through me.
I take his glass and drink from it. I mean, it’s good wine and he’s not going to enjoy it.
He marvels at me. “That is really wine?” he asks skeptically.
I lower the glass from my lips. “Yeah, it really is.”
Death is the picture of disillusionment. “I have seen and heard much about wine over the ages. I did not imagine it would taste so … disappointing.”
“I bet the bread was a letdown too.”
“Not entirely,” he says. He reaches out and takes the wine from me, setting it aside.
I give him a baffled look, not sure where he’s going with this.
Rather than responding his hand goes to the back of my head. Thanatos draws me to him and it’s only in the seconds before my lips touch his that I remember.
The kiss.
Then his mouth is there, firm against mine. I suck in a breath because—
It’s exquisite.
Holding his hand was one thing, but to be caught in Death’s embrace, his lips seducing mine—I’d forgotten that kissing him was an entire experience.
My mouth opens just the slightest, and he seems to be following my lead, his own lips parting. My tongue presses against his and Death’s fingers dig into my hair and he’s holding me to him like he doesn’t plan on ever letting me go. His tongue strokes mine and he kisses me with all the savagery that his reputation seems to promise.
I am sucked under.
My hands come up, cupping his face, cheeks, and I only promised a kiss, I can stop this. I should stop this.
I don’t.
I throw myself wholly into the kiss. I can taste the wine on Death’s tongue, and I’m sure he can taste the wine on mine, but he’s not gagging—in fact, by all appearances, he seems to like the stuff well enough after all.
The hand of his that’s still on my hip digs in, and he grinds himself against me.
I let out a breathy moan when I feel his erection against me.
Is he even aware of erections and arousal? I bet he isn’t—not in any real sense. I’d wager money that this is another bread-and-wine thing, where Death knows, but he doesn’t actually know. I doubt he has any real idea what he’s doing or why things feel the way they do.
The thought makes me smile against his mouth.
“I like that,” Thanatos growls, his voice rough.
I pause, breaking away just a little. “What?”
“The smile you gave me while your lips were on mine—and the other thing, the sound you made just a moment ago.”
The moan. Dear lord.
This is all supposed to be happening this way. I’m doing everything right, yet suddenly—
I pull more fully away from him, my breathing labored and my heart racing like mad.
Death’s eyes are hooded when he stares at me, and he might not have any real experience with sex, but it’s clear he’s driven wild with want. That look is all it takes for me to once more feel like a cornered animal.
I slide off his lap, swaying a little on my feet as I gain my footing. I haven’t slept well in several nights, and it’s all catching up to me. The wine doesn’t help either. I back away, even as my body cries out in protest.
Thanatos watches me, the desire in his expression banking until all that’s left is a yearning so deep I can almost feel it. Or maybe that’s my own lonely soul seeking out connection, even though Death is the last person I should find it with.
“Don’t go, Lazarus,” he pleads.
But I do. I flee him then like I have so many times before.
The trouble is, I have a yearning within me that rivals the horseman’s. And I’m not ready to face it—not yet.
But I’ll have to, and soon.
Chapter 40
Sugar Land, Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
I rub my eyes the next morning as I pad through the house. I didn’t get great sleep last night. I kept waking up feeling as though I was forgetting something, only to then remember that something was Ben.
Even though my mind knows he’s gone, instinct keeps demanding that I perform the same old parental habits I’ve done for the last six months.
I cut through the dining room, which has been cleared of last night’s meal, and enter an enormous, industrial kitchen, lured in by the smell of breakfast. I stop in my tracks when I see several skeletons hard at work in the room.
Just how many of these revenants are there?
One of them is frying eggs in a skillet, another is cutting fruit. And oh God, dead people really are preparing food and I have never dreaded my own hunger as much as I do now.
At least the revenants are nothing more than bones. If they were still fleshy … I don’t think I could stomach that. Unfortunately, there’s a faint smell that clings to them, one that I have no name for, but it must be what old, desiccated things smell like. That, or this kitchen has a funky odor all on its own.
One of the skeletons pauses their work and turns to me. I stare at the undead servant for several seconds before I realize—I think it’s waiting on me.
I clear my throat. “Um, good morning.”
Why are you saying good morning to the skeleton, Laz?
“Uh,” I continue, “you wouldn’t happen to have any coffee, would you?”
The revenant swivels around and heads for a French Press that I didn’t notice earlier.
I marvel.
It understands me.
The skeleton grabs a mug hanging in a nearby cupboard and fills it with the rich liquid.
Behind me the door to the kitchen swings open, and I sense Death a moment before I hear his deep voice.
“I see you’ve taken to my servants’ cooking, after all,” he says from behind me.
I spin around, my breath catching at the sight of him. Those dark eyes all but beckon me to come closer.
That’s when I register that from the waist up, Thanatos is naked. No armor, no shirt. Just hundreds of strange, glowing tattoos that bathe him in silvery light. I suck in a breath at the sight.
How have I never noticed these before?