I hear Death’s footsteps from down the hall.
“I don’t want to stay here.” My voice comes out like a croak.
He pauses in the bedroom’s doorway. “Alright, kismet.”
It’s as simple as that. Five minutes later we are back on Thanatos’s horse.
Behind us, the house collapses. It feels like an old, worn-out dream finally crumbling for good—something sad but long overdue.
I force my mind from the family that once lived there. I have too many ghosts that haunt me already.
I really don’t need any more.
I’ve heard that humans can get used to just about any situation. I don’t know if that’s true, but I have gotten used to this way of life—traveling, then camping, then traveling some more.
I’ve even gotten used to Death’s and my … relationship.
“Tell me another secret,” I say, leaning back on the blankets that cover the ground. A plate of food and wine sits off to the side, and around us the skeletons and their wagons have circled our campsite.
Thanatos lays on his side, wearing only his pants. His tattoos illuminate all the sharp planes of his face.
“Hmm …” He’s been trailing his fingers over my features, but now his hand moves to the buttons of my shirt. “I won’t tell you a secret,” he says, “but I will show you one.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about.
Thanatos unbuttons my shirt then and slides it off my arms. Then he removes my bra. Then my pants—then his.
A laugh slips out. “What are you doing?” I ask. There is nothing about this that is much of a secret between us anymore.
Death finishes undressing me, then pulls me into his arms. He wraps my legs up around his waist, locking us in this intimate embrace.
“You’ve shown me how humans have sex,” he says, lifting me as he rises off the bed. His black wings spread wide behind him. “Now it’s time I show you how angels do it.”
No sooner has he spoken than he leaps into the air. His wings beat at his back, each powerful stroke bringing us higher and higher into the chilly night sky.
I cling to Thanatos, my arms wrapped around his neck and my cheek pressed to his. The horseman’s dark hair tickles my skin. It doesn’t matter that Death has flown with me in his arms before, my fear still rises. The earth is a long way down.
“Relax,” he breathes, “I’ve got you.”
I try to, I really do, but then the heavens rumble around us as a storm rolls in, and I tighten my grip.
“Lazarus, I’ve got you,” he says, running a hand up and down my back. “I swear it.”
Reluctantly, I loosen my grip on him. I manage to even pull my face away when the sky flashes. For a moment, that skull superimposes itself over Thanatos’s features. Then it’s gone.
“Your face …” I trail off. I’ve seen this several times before, but it never gets less unsettling.
“Life and death are lovers, kismet,” he whispers, shifting my hips to align us. “We are lovers. It has always been this way. It will always be this way.”
With that, Thanatos drives into me. A gasp slips out as I grip him harder. There’s nothing to hold onto but Death himself, and it’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating.
His cock stretches me, and has anything ever felt so good?
“I want to hear your moans, kismet,” he breathes against my ear.
When I don’t immediately reply, his lips drop to one of my breasts. He kisses it hard, his teeth grazing against my nipple.
Now I do moan, shifting my legs a little to better accommodate him. He drives into me again and again while, at his back, his wings pound against the wind. He feverishly guides his cock in and out, in and out.
“Thanatos.” I moan his name.
“There is nothing better than being buried in your tight warmth,” he says. He kisses the underside of my jaw. “I want to fill you up with me and make sure you never forget that I was here.”
I pull his lips to mine and steal a kiss, one of my hands tangling in his hair.
Angel sex is wild.
One of Death’s hands slip between the seam of my ass, until his fingers are touching that other hole.
Breaking off the kiss, I go tense in his arms. The action causes Thanatos’s cock to jerk.
He makes a pained noise. “Relax, kismet. You can tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” He waits for me to do so.
A part of me considers it, but another part of me is far too curious to stop things now.
When I say nothing, one of Death’s fingers presses against my back entrance until it gives way.
I suck in a breath, even as the pressure somehow coils up within me. Each thrust of his becomes much more sensitive.
“I can’t believe this was your idea,” I say.
In the darkness, I can see the gleam of the horseman’s dark eyes as he takes in my expression. “Next time, it can be yours.”
“You are filthy,” I breathe.
In response, he presses his finger in farther.
Jesus. I feel impossibly full like this, and having him work me from both sides is causing sensation to rapidly build … and build …
“Thanatos—”
It’s too much.
With a cry, I shatter, my orgasm exploding through me.
He groans as I come, and then his hips are pumping feverishly against mine. Moments later, I feel him thicken inside me. Death bellows my name as he comes, his cock slamming into me again and again.
Our climaxes seem to go on forever, but eventually, I feel him withdraw his finger so he can clutch me close.
I go boneless in his arms, my body shaky and spent.
Slowly, Thanatos lowers us back to the ground, landing at the foot of our makeshift bed.
He lays me out on the sheets before draping himself against my side.
Death looks at me and my breath catches. For an instant, a strange feeling passes through me, like everything I thought I understood was all a mirage, and that the curtain that separates life from death is so thin I might actually catch a glimpse— “Lazarus.”
My gaze focuses on Thanatos. The markings on his skin glitter like stars and they seem ancient—he seems ancient. Ancient and otherworldly.
“You are exquisite,” he says. He leans forward and kisses the pulse at my neck, his dark hair tickling my skin. “Exquisite and troublesome and curious and alive.”
“I thought you didn’t like the fact that I was alive.”
He gives me a soft smile. “Even angels can be wrong.”
Chapter 55
Interstate 10, Arizona
August, Year 27 of the Horsemen
I wake to the sound of echoing howls.
I sit up, my eyes scanning the darkness for whatever animal might make that noise. I can’t see past the wall of carts and the revenants around us, though those strange cries seem to be close.
Wait, howls?
But all animals flee death …
The wooden carts shake and now I can make out whoops and bellows, and fuck, those aren’t wolves.
They are the battle cries of marauders.
I suck in my scream just as Thanatos rises next to me, his hair mussed. I don’t have time to read into that before, around us, dozens of figures materialize from the darkness.
They descend on our camp like a swarm of locusts. One man jumps on a cart, causing it to nearly overturn. Another smashes through a skeleton.
Death lifts his hand, but before he has a chance to unleash his lethal power, an arrow pierces him through the heart. A split second later, another slams into his head.
“Thanatos!” I scream, lunging for him as, all around camp, the remaining skeletons crumple, their bones clattering against the ground.
I catch the horseman as he falls back and cradle him in my arms, even as our attackers stream towards us.
“Death,” I say again, cupping his face.
I know he’s dead, I know the self-persevering thing to do is drop his body and fight, but I’m seized by a paralyzing panic at the sight of my horseman limp in my arms. A sob slips out.
How many times have I seen him die? A dozen? More?
Never have I felt this way before. Like the world is collapsing around me. I can barely breathe around it.
Another arrow whistles by, grazing my shoulder. I cry out, reaching for the wound. That snaps me out of my grief.