I don’t know what to do.
In the past, I had so many reasons to push Thanatos away. But now, those have evaporated. More than that, I have a deep seated fear that somehow, this is what breaks the spell that’s come over Death. Now that he has been inside me, whatever force that drove his obsession with me will wither away.
Yesterday, I left Thanatos after I had finished him off. I brace for him to do the same.
Instead, he withdraws his hand from between my thighs and stretches out on his side. A moment later he pulls me to him, his face achingly close.
My heart is still pounding, but that sick feeling is evaporating away, particularly once he throws one of his legs over my own.
I reach out and touch that perfect face, with his enviable cheekbones, and I stroke his pale skin. He really does have the sort of face that myths are made of. I’ve never in my life seen someone who looks like this, and I could never imagine what it might feel like to have them look at me the way Death is looking at me now—like I am the only thing worth having in this world. His eyes are devouring me, the candlelight making them look like water in the moonlight.
I don’t look away. I stare and stare and let this terrifying feeling between us build.
“Lazarus,” Thanatos says softly. He wets his lips, and the two of us are balancing on some precipice.
I don’t respond, ensnared by his eyes.
“Kismet, tell me you are mine,” he says softly.
I’ve spent so long fighting, it’s a strange feeling, giving in.
“I am yours.”
For better or worse, I am.
Chapter 48
Hallettsville, Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
I wake to the press of Death’s mouth against my body. I’m already arching against him, my flesh hungry for more of his touch.
“I tried to let you sleep—I did—but I cannot get this fire you’ve stoked out of my veins,” he whispers against my skin.
Why hadn’t I thought to give in to the horseman earlier? This is so much preferable to fighting.
As Death moves up my body, trailing kisses in his wake, I feel the brush of his erection. He stops only when the two of us are face to face, his hips nestled between mine.
“Tell me you no longer want me like I want you,” he says, searching my eyes. “Tell me I am mad.”
“You are mad,” I say.
Something flickers in his eyes. Disappointment?
“But then,” I add, “so am I.”
With that, I pull him to me.
Early morning sunlight filters into the room and someone is drawing shapes into my skin. I smile, stretching as I bask in the feel of it all.
I jolt when I remember.
Thanatos.
I turn, and there he is, propped up on a forearm, his naked body pressed against mine, and I can smell faint traces of frankincense and myrrh wafting off his skin—or maybe it’s on my skin. Or the sheets. Somehow, he’s everywhere.
In the sobering light of morning, this is all real in a way that last night wasn’t. We don’t just go our separate ways. This will continue on and on.
Death’s eyes crinkle at their corners. “You look like I have left my mark on you.”
I discreetly run my tongue over my swollen lips and smooth my tousled hair. “You seem pleased by that.”
“I am. I have never left my mark on any mortal—at least, not like this.”
I feel my cheeks heat.
His hand is back on me, his fingers drawing lines across my body once more.
“To think I once hurt this skin.” A very real shudder courses through him. “Unfathomable.”
I mean, my pussy took a beating last night and it probably will take another one today, so it’s not too unfathomable …
“I have hurt you too,” I remind him.
“To protect yourself and your people. I was always the aggressor, even when you waited to ambush me. I know you only ever did it to protect those people—people who were strangers to you.”
He strikes something raw and real, and it hurts.
“I would hunt down my enemies too if I knew they were bent on destroying all that I cherished.” He has an intense look as he says that.
I swallow. “You have a lot of perception for a man who isn’t even human.” I don’t know that many people can empathize this well.
Death exhales, still staring at me. “I have had hours alone to think about it all.”
“But it changes nothing,” I say quietly—almost questioningly.
“But it changes nothing,” he agrees.
“I still intend to stop you,” I say. Just in case he’s forgotten.
“I know,” Death agrees, his eyes sad.
Now it’s my turn to exhale, the easy, uncomplicated morning dissipating away. Thinking of humanity reminds me of Ben, and all I must do to save him for good.
I have a plea for Thanatos, one I want to make so badly it hurts. But being in this man’s bed changes nothing—he said so himself—and I am afraid of drawing his attention in this particular direction.
“What is it, Lazarus?” he asks. “You look as though a cloud has covered the sun—what troubles you?”
I stare into Death’s strange and complex eyes and I come to a decision.
“I spent an entire year hiding from you, all to keep my son alive,” I say.
Thanatos’s face grows solemn.
“Can you promise me that you won’t kill him?” I whisper.
“Kismet,” he says, “I take everyone. Not even your son is exempt from that fate—but I have no plans to take him any time soon.”
I nearly choke on my relief, even as a part of me now wants to analyze the horseman’s definition of soon.
I grab Death’s hand and clasp it tightly in mine. “Promise me you won’t.”
I’m supposed to be seducing Death for humanity’s sake, but I’ve always placed Ben’s life above the greater good. I’m not about to grow magnanimous all of a sudden.
A line forms between the horseman’s brows.
“I will do anything you like.” I press in closer as I speak.
Death’s nostril’s flare and his jaw clenches with his restraint. “Stop it, Lazarus. I don’t make deals like that.” Even though he wants to. He definitely wants to.
He’s still unbending on this. I try not to let that worry me—but it does. Sleeping with him was supposed to soften him. What do I do if it doesn’t?
You spent a year battling this man into changing his ways. You can spend a year banging the change out of him. Have a little patience, Laz.
“Tell me about your Ben,” Thanatos says. “That night in the hospital, you said you thought he was deathless, like you. Why did you think that?”
I shudder out a breath. “The first time you took me captive, shortly after I escaped, I came across a nearby town …” I fall back into the memory. “The people were all dead, but the structures still stood.” I can still feel the chill sting of the rain and the desperation that pushed me onwards. “I only meant to stop long enough for supplies, but then I heard a baby crying inside one of the homes.”
My eyes meet Death’s. “Ben survived your attack on the town.”
The horseman listens raptly, though now his lips pull down into a slight frown. “That’s impossible,” he murmurs, even though I can tell he believes me.
“You thought my survival was impossible too,” I say.
Thanatos inclines his head.
I draw in a breath, and continue. “So I took Ben, and I fled from you.”
I run my teeth over my lower lip, lost in thought. “The truly strange thing,” I admit, “is that it is nearly identical to how my mother found me two decades ago.”
I swear the horseman’s gaze sharpens on me.
“How so?” he asks.
“My mother discovered me in a town that Pestilence had ridden through. She’d heard my cries as she was passing through, just as I heard Ben’s, and she saved me and took me in as one of her own.”
Death looks troubled by this information, but before either of us can say anything more, movement out of the corner of my eye has me jolting. Without thinking, I clutch Death close to me.
I feel the horseman gaze down at me as he pulls me in deeper.