Page 14 of A Bond in Flames

And though I knew I shouldn’t, that it was dangerous beyond measure, I climbed in beside the female sleeping soundly in my bed. I may not have hope, but this little witch was still my guiding star, and not getting closer to her was like asking the wind not to blow or the snow not to fall.

Just tonight.

I’d sleep beside her only tonight.

* * *

Zinnia

Wrapping the fur around her shoulders, she walked to the hearth. The fire crackled, light dancing on the stone walls. Anticipation moved through her while she waited for him to come home. She missed him when he left and counted the hours until he returned.

But tiredness eventually won out, and she got into bed.

She woke as his palm drifted up her thigh. Shivering, she covered it and brought his big, tattooed hand to her lips, kissing his scarred fingers. “I missed you, my love.”

I woke with a jolt, gasping in a breath. It was dark, only a small candle glowing from somewhere deep in the room. My eyes were desperately trying to adjust while my heart still raced, and my belly, it felt… strange.

That’s when I became aware of the massive male lying under me. I was draped over a wide chest, my hand resting on ridged abdominal muscles, skin molten and smooth. Death’s intoxicating scent filled my lungs, and my body buzzed with electricity.

I broke out in a sweat.

I was lying on him, draped over his body like I had a right to be here. I was frozen in place, wanting to pull away but too scared to move in case I woke him. My nerve endings itched, and my belly squirmed. I couldn’t take it; I scrambled back, but I shouldn’t have been worried about waking him. His eyes glittered in the candlelight, not blue but black, the night sky in their depths, and they weren’t cold; they were hot, smoldering.

“What… what are you doing?” I choked out.

“I was sleeping.”

“You can’t just get in here with me,” I fired at him, freaking out so bad, I was breathing hard.

His lips peeled back. “That’s where you’re wrong, wife.”

Oh goddess.“You look… as if you want to….”

“How do I look, little witch? Tell me.” His voice was nothing but gravel, resonating through me, over me.

“Like you want to …” Punish me. Hurt me.

Suddenly, shadows swirled around him, thick and heavy, and the room filled with a deep and horrible dread. Darkness moved around his face, reshaping it, gathering at his eyes and cheeks, his nose, transforming his face into a skull, into Death. His hand shot out, and I scrambled out of his reach.

It paused midair.

“Mors?” I said. Yes, it was stupid to say his name again, but something was wrong, and I needed to get through to him somehow.

Rage blasted from him, like a furious storm, and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“I will not harm you,” he roared, his words and his tone a total contradiction. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and it was unsettling as hell.

Then he climbed out of bed, and his cloak settled around him as he stormed across the cave. A door appeared, swinging open, and he strode out before it slammed behind him.

I stood there frozen, staring after him for several seconds. At least until the adrenaline drained from me and that awful heaviness left the room with him. My legs shook, and I flopped back on the bed. What the hell was that? And not just the weird way Death was behaving.

That hadn’t just been a dream; it was more… an apparition, a manifestation? Maybe my medium powers weren’t totally smothered here? What I’d seen, it was like one of the visions I had when I communed with a spirit, when they wanted to pass on a message, and the vision I’d just received was here in this cave. Did one of his consorts die here? Is that who I saw? I only saw it for a moment, but that had been Death’s hand she’d kissed. No one else had hands like he did.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I lay awake for hours; my mind wouldn’t shut the hell up. I had too many unanswered questions. Who was that with him in the dream? Why was she reaching out to me now? If she was one of Death’s consorts, how did she die?

Somehow, I’d managed to drift back to sleep, because when I woke again, it was to the smell of bacon and coffee.

Shoving back the covers, I scooped up Hemy and got out of bed. Death was sitting at the table, facing the hearth. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a mug of coffee in his hands, and he was staring into the unlit fire.

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