Death translates. “I am the last of my kind, and I bring with me every manner of malady to plague humankind. Their fields shall blacken, their creatures shall flee. Mortals will quake before my name and all will fall to my touch. For I will end the world.”
When I open my eyes, I see the horseman for what he is—death. And I feel that stillness around us, the one that I have gotten so used to since being with him, and I once again smell the scent of frankincense and myrrh, even though the water should’ve rinsed most of it away.
“Yes, you understand, don’t you?” he says quietly. “I am no man.”
I swallow. “Tell me something else,” I say softly.
His eyes flick to mine. “You want to know more?” he says.
“I want to know everything about you,” I admit. And it’s the truth, even if it’s an echo of Death’s own words.
I want to learn about him the same way he wants to learn about me.
Thanatos’s eyes gleam. I think he’s actually moved by my answer.
After a moment, he says, “Ask, and I will answer as best I can.”
I’m supposed to pick a question? I don’t even know where to begin.
I settle for, “Why me?”
He scrutinizes me. “You mean, why, out of the millions of people alive, are you the one who is here, at my side?”
I nod.
“Can you not see for yourself how exceptional you are?” he says, tilting his head.
My gaze dips, and I trace a glyph on one of his pecs, leaving little droplets of water in my wake.
“I mean, I can’t die,” I say, “and I get how that makes me special, but why was I given even that ability? There’s nothing particularly extraordinary about me.” I’m a shitty marksman, I was a mediocre student despite my best efforts, and while I was a decent athlete, I never stood out. I’ve never actually stood out for anything—deathlessness aside.
Death reaches up, the water lapping around us. He strokes my cheek. “If you could see yourself through my eyes, you would think differently, kismet. The woman who worked valiantly to stop me—who fought and died again and again to protect her kind—I have met countless souls, and I can tell you firsthand that none of them have proven their worth in such a way.
“But even if you don’t see yourself as exceptional, I do, and the universe must as well, or else you never would’ve ended up in my clutches.” He reaches down and squeezes my ass to emphasize his point.
I yelp a little, and much to my shock, Thanatos throws his head back and laughs.
I drink in his amusement, mesmerized by the sight of him. I’m so used to Death’s solemnity that, when he laughs, he transforms into someone else entirely. I find I want to get to know this part of him much, much better.
Even once Death stops laughing, the laughter doesn’t leave his eyes. “Every single one of us horsemen was given a woman. You are mine.”
“Given?” I echo, grimacing. I take issue with that phrasing.
He laughs again at my expression, the sound of it—
This is what euphoria sounds like.
“You look about the same as I did when I learned this. If it makes you feel any better, I was given to you as well.”
The literal embodiment of death was given to me as a husband? That should sound terrifying, but right now, straddled on his lap with his absurdly pretty face mere inches from mine, I am not nearly as disappointed as I should be.
I clear my throat. “That does not make me feel better,” I lie.
“Mmm …” he murmurs pensively, “then perhaps this will.”
Before I can respond, he lifts me, but only for a moment. Then he brings my hips down, driving himself into my tight sheath.
I gasp. So much for Thanatos holding back.
My fingers dig into his skin where I clutch him. “Are you really going to use sex to make—?”
The horseman cuts me off with a kiss, and yes, he does in fact use sex to make me feel better.
And damn that bastard, but it works, too.
Chapter 49
Hallettsville, Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Neither of us leave the master suite for days. Now and then a skeleton brings in food and water—none of which Death partakes in. Other than that, all of our needs are encapsulated in the four walls around us.
Every so often the horseman’s full regalia appears on his body by some invisible hand. It’s never on him for very long before he casts it off again. Even his torch makes an appearance, the scented smoke giving the room a cloying, perfumed smell.
The days blur together. But, the more time goes by, the more frenetic the sex with Death becomes and the more often it occurs. It seems he’s desperate to drive off his need to travel by leaning into his need for me.
I don’t know what day it is when I slide out of the horseman’s clutches and venture into the closet. I can feel his heated gaze on me as I look through the clothing, picking out a white shirt and a pair of jeans that I don’t hate.
Death doesn’t say anything until I’ve finished putting on the clothes and reach for a pair of boots.
“Where are you going?” he asks lazily, his eyes beckoning me back to him. It’s almost enough to convince me to rejoin him in bed.
“My pussy needs a break, Thanatos.” How many times has he slid into me today? Five? Six? More? I have been wrung dry of orgasms and it’s still the morning. At this point, I need to ice my vagina.
“Do you ache?” Death says. “Come here, kismet. I will soothe it.”
I know exactly how he plans on doing that.
I give him a look, even as I nab a pair of socks and begin putting them on. “I know you need to travel again. No amount of sex will change that.”
He frowns. Whatever his reasons are, Death is trying to stave off his duty. I doubt it’s because he has some bleeding heart for humankind—but I am moved by it all the same.
Still, just like many other aspects of this horseman, I cannot keep up with his sexual appetite. Not when it’s in overdrive like this.
“I don’t want this to end,” he admits.
I give him an odd look. “It won’t.”
“But it will. I will carve a path through the next several towns and you will witness it all, and you will remember that beneath every gentle touch we have shared, you still hate me.”
I swallow. I can feel the truth in his words.
“Why does that even matter?” I ask, grabbing one boot and pulling it on.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
I stare back at him, unsure what to say. One moment he’s omnipotent, and the next he’s vulnerable.
This is your chance. The one Death’s brothers were hoping for when they struck that deal with me. Death doesn’t want me to hate him; there’s an easy way to do that— “Don’t kill the next town, then,” I say.
His black feathers ruffle a little. “You know I cannot.”
I didn’t expect him to say anything different.
“Then at least hold off on the killing until you have moved through the town and seen what life is like,” I say, focusing on putting on my other boot so that I don’t have to look at him.
“Kismet, I’m not doing that again.”
I glance up at Death just in time to catch him staring at my chest, right where that arrow pierced me. I get the uncanny feeling that he’s remembering how I dove in front of him, and how he held me as I died.
“You wanted me to catch a glimpse of humanity,” Death continues. “I caught it—it’s the same glimpse I always see. They want me dead and they don’t mind hurting you to accomplish that.”
My throat thickens with emotion. He’s being protective of me. Context aside, it feels good to be cared about.
“Thanatos,” I say softly, “if everyone was truly like that, I wouldn’t be fighting for our survival.”
He gives me a penetrating look. “No,” he reluctantly agrees, “you wouldn’t.” After a moment, he adds, “And you’re right, not all humans are like that.” He studies my face for a moment.