Page 10 of A Bond in Flames

CHAPTER3

Zinnia

The leathers weresturdy but well-worn. Whoever owned them before me had obviously kicked ass because they were scarred and patched in a bunch of places. From the inside, you could see most of the damage was from clean slices, most likely knives or swords. If I was wearing what amounted to armor, then there was a chance I’d be fighting, so I’d strapped several throwing knives to my waist and my larger knife to my thigh. I also had a few of Magnolia’s nasty potions with me—one that was straight to the point and melted the face off a creature in seconds, and another that caused temporary confusion, hallucinations, and blindness.

I walked out of the castle and had to fight not to suck in a sharp breath.

Death stood at the foot of the stairs, wearing heavy boots and worn leather like me. It molded to his tall frame, and dressed like that, goddess, the already large male was massive and even more imposing. I thought about the way he’d looked in the garden—utterly transformed, his features skeletal, his eyes aimed at the sky while his lips moved rapidly, speaking to… only he knew who—and shivered. He’d never looked more like the God of Death than he had last night. My gaze trailed over him now; yeah, there was no mistaking who he was right now either. His shoulders looked even broader this morning, his long, lean body hugged to perfection in all that black. His muscle wasn’t bulky. If I had to describe Death, I’d say he had the body of an extremely tall Olympic swimmer: long muscles, agile, fast. His movements would be smooth in a fight, gliding from one move to the next—

“Ready?” he asked.

I jumped, not prepared for that voice. I never was.

“As I’ll ever be.” I carefully lifted the strap of the small bag I’d borrowed from Egon over my head as I descended the wide stairs. The bag was small and made of a soft but thick felt, perfect for Hemlock to stay warm in. I carried my pack in my hand. Hopefully, I had everything I’d need since I’d packed light as instructed. “So who did the leathers belong to?” I asked him.

His gaze swept over me, from the boots to my wavy red hair that I’d braided down my back to keep out of the way. “A warrior,” he said.

“A friend of yours?”

Something moved through those crystal clear, glacial eyes. “No.”

“Lover?” My belly twisted in an uncomfortable way for some reason.

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough, wasn’t it? I was wearing his ex-lover’s armor. Realization struck. “She was your consort?”

“Yes.”

What did it matter to me? Still, I felt kind of weird wearing something that had belonged to a female he once… cared about? Loved? Then again, who’s to say he loved her? I was his consort, and we sure as hell weren’t in love. “Where is she now?”

“Dead.”

He was doing that thing he often did, watching me in a way I didn’t understand. The way he replied, leaving things unsaid, as if he was waiting for me to figure out the punch line on my own when there was no way I could. “How did she die?”

“Gruesomely.”

I couldn’t read him at all, which was nothing new. “You don’t seem very upset about it. Was she consort number one or number ten?”

He said nothing.

I jerked back. “Do all your consorts die gruesomely?”

“Not all.” He held my gaze. “Some a little more peacefully.”

Well now, wasn’t this a new and horrifying discovery. “And how long do you expect me to last?”

“That is entirely up to you, consort,” he said, then held his fingers to his lips and whistled.

He’d actually answered several questions without asking for anything in return. A crashing sound came from deep in the forest. “What the hell is that?”

“Our transportation.”

The trees at the edge of the forest, several yards away, shuddered, followed by the sound of several large branches cracking; then two giant monsters burst through.

“Holy fuck.” I stumbled back, but Death grabbed me, his fingers curling around my wrist and holding firm, and then he tugged me forward. I jolted as electricity bolted through me. Still, it was less shocking than it had been in the library. I could breathe at least. He called out to the beasts in that same language, in that same low, guttural voice he’d used with Somnus.

They slowed, stopping in front of us.

Their skin was thick like a rhino’s but mottled black and gray. They had long, thin, muscular legs and claws like razors. Their heads were elongated, birdlike, with lower jaws that jutted forward and mouths that were full of sharp teeth and fangs like a wildcat.

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