Signa paid no mind to the guests in her home; let Fate and Blythe see to them. What did it matter anyway, when she would soon be leaving Foxglove as quickly as she’d settled in?
There was an overwhelming sadness in such thoughts; one that would consume her if she let them. And so she had no choice but to cast them from her mind as she glided down the stairs with Death in tow. No choice but to cast all thoughts from her mind, considering the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her at any minute. If this was to be her last living night with Death, she refused to spend it crying.
Death whispered her name, calling to her, but she didn’t still. Signa hurried to the second level and the room that she’d made her own.
“Signa,” Death called again, urgent this time. “Stop whatever this nonsense is and talk to me.” His grip on her hand tightened, and he pulled her to him as he leaned against the wall in a hallway. Empty as the hall was, Signa couldn’t help but feel like there were eyes upon her, watching. But what did that matter now? If people saw her talking to the shadows, what repercussions could there be? Come tomorrow, Foxglove would no longer be her home and nosy neighbors would be of no concern.
“There’s no time,” she whispered, wishing that he would hurry and follow her. Wishing that he would stop fighting. But Death held tight as he bent to rest his forehead against hers. He was in his human form, dark eyes blazing. Signa’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch of his cool skin, her own still warmed by her beating heart.
“We could have all the time in the world, Little Bird,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this.”
There was nothing more that Signa wished than for that to be true. She would spend an eternity with Death, would their circumstances allow it. And oh, how happy she would be.
Signa tilted her face up, pressing a kiss onto lips that had been made to fit hers. “You know I do,” she whispered, taking his bottom lip between hers and kissing him again.
Death held her in both arms, dragging her body into his with no sign of letting go. “Then we’ll find a way to break the oath once Elijah is free.”
She cupped his face in her palms, unable to stop her tears. Once her blood was on that tapestry, there was no saying how long it would take to break her deal with Fate or how he might retaliate.
“Listen to me.” Signa settled her palms against either side of his face. “I love you. You have made me happier and more myself than I have ever been. If we’re only to have one more night, then I want it to be something that we can always think back to.” Her hands slid down his body, fingers intertwining through his. She brought one of Death’s hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles. He was still and silent, but he gave no argument as he let her peel away and start back toward the suite she had hoped to one day share with him.
It’d been little more than a child’s fantasy, really. With something so big as life and death between them, she should have known it would never be her reality.
She didn’t let go of his hand even as they stepped inside and she bolted the door behind him. The moment she let go, she feared he would disappear entirely and that would be the end of their story. And so she held him close, facing him as she backed toward the bed.
There was no mirth in his eyes. None of the smoky coolness she had come to expect. Instead, only sorrow filled his stare as he sat on the bed and drew her into his lap.
“You are my world, Signa Farrow.” The tenderness in his voice threatened to break her resolve. Signa had to turn away, shutting her eyes against the feather-soft kisses he peppered down her neck. “Whatever happens tomorrow, know that this will not be our final night together. I swear that nothing could ever stop me from fighting for you.”
“I know you won’t.” His words were the most beautiful song, and she held to them like a promise. Let Fate believe he’d won; neither she nor Death would ever stop fighting.
Signa slid her legs on either side of him and wound her hands around his neck as he kissed her, lips lingering from her neck to her mouth, then down to her chest. Her eyes fell shut, body suffocating beneath the layers of her gown even despite Death’s perpetual chill. She shivered as his hands found its laces, as if reading her mind. He’d always had that way about him; that uncanny ability to know what she was thinking or what she wanted.
God, she was going to miss that.
Signa slipped off her dress, helping him slide it to the floor. Death took his time to brush his hand down the shape of her, thumb tracing patterns across her hips. Signa tipped her head back, savoring every touch. She helped free him of his shirt, then his pants as the shadows he summoned followed his hands to trail along her skin, carving a path of ice that seared within her.
Death took his time tasting her, lips rolling over her breasts, her navel, and traveling lower to the most sensitive part of her as he laid her on her back.
His name tasted like honeyed wine as she whispered it into the night. Her hips rocked against him, but when she shut her eyes to savor the tension rising with her, the shadows were behind her neck, tipping her head back up to him.
“Look at me.” His voice was no whisper, but a command that seized her attention. “I want you looking at me when I touch you.”
It was a privilege, she realized, to be able to look upon him after so long and see him as he held her. As he consumed her. Her hands twisted in the bedsheets, and it was the hunger in his eyes that struck her core, her body shuddering with the release that rolled over her.
Death leaned back then, and Signa took a moment to appreciate the sheer sight of him before her, hips tangled in the sheets, gaze never straying from hers. She’d have given almost anything to spend the rest of her life with him here like this. Eyes locked with his, Signa drew herself into his lap, wanting to taste and feel every inch of him tonight, while she still could.
Death groaned with a desire that rippled over her. She wanted to earn that sound. Wanted to draw it from his lips again and again. She wound her arms around his neck, holding him as their bodies connected and she rolled her hips against his. One of Death’s hands came around her neck, steadying her against him as the other settled on her thigh, thumbs pressing into her skin.
“You are mine.” The words were not possession, but a promise. “For as long as you’ll have me, you are mine, Signa Farrow. I will burn this world to cinders before I let anyone take you from me.”
When the sun rose, their time together would be over. But for tonight, they would make the most of this goodbye. She would explore all that there was of him, and hoped that when dawn came and left them with only their memories, they would think of this night forevermore.
FORTY-ONE
BLYTHE
BLYTHE WAS BREATHLESS WHEN SHE RETURNED TO THE BALLROOM, flushed and clutching her chest.
She couldn’t say what drove her to follow Signa, or what she might have done if her cousin had noticed her in the hall, watching as Signa spoke to the murky haze that was becoming more visible by the second.
Maybe Blythe had gone to talk to her. Maybe she’d gone to try to quell the raging guilt that was bubbling and festering within her.
Or maybe she’d gone for answers.
He would have killed her. He would have killed her.…
She’d heard Death when he spoke those words to Signa back in the garden, his voice like smoke and honey. She couldn’t seem to scrub the sound of it from her mind.
He would have killed her.
Surely Death hadn’t been referring to who she thought he was. It wasn’t possible. And yet… Blythe still had not cried. Weeks of knowing that her brother was dead, and still she could not bring herself to mourn him.