Page 26 of A Bond in Flames

“Well, after the warning you gave him, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble this time.” I freaking hoped not, anyway.

Death grunted. Not reassuring at all.

“By the way, when were you going to tell me about this little sea voyage? ’Cause I have to tell you, I’m not much of a fan of boats and wide-open ocean… like at all.”

“I know,” he said, “but you’ll be fine.”

“You know? How?” I said when he finally stopped outside one of the rooms and slid in the key.

His hand stilled, just for a split second, but then he turned the key and shoved open the door. “I know a lot of things.”

Great, another room with one bed. Like seriously? “Can we get another room?” I eyed the huge bed. On second thought, he could have it. It looked like it was made out of charred bones from creatures of unidentifiable origin, if the skull in the center of the headboard was anything to go by. At least there was a fire going against the wall, because it was cold and miserable.

“No. We stay together, especially here.” He hurriedly undid his jacket and slid the heavy leather off, tossing it on the back of a chair. He wore nothing underneath it, and this time, his back was to me, so when he rolled his broad shoulders and flexed his arms, I watched the way the muscles bunched, making the inverted torch tattooed down the backs of both his arms move and the flames dance.

Seeing him like this was so… weird. He was the God of Death, and I was forced to spend time with him in a way only—well, possibly ten—other consorts had. He’d obviously had intimate relationships with the others, at least some of them. The very idea of taking things there with him was… not something I could even truly contemplate.

Not only was it way too intimidating, but that didn’t seem to be what he wanted from me, and I certainly didn’t want that from him.

Then I thought about the way my body had reacted while we hid under his cloak, and I inwardly winced. I had no control over my reaction; it didn’t mean I wanted to go there with him. Maybe that’s why the others had died. The kiss of Death. Once you let him into your pants, you’d signed your own death warrant. “You don’t like wearing a shirt or a jacket, why?” I asked.

He turned to me. “I’ve spent very long periods of time in only my cloak, so it takes time to get used to clothing again.”

That made sense since, up until a week or so ago, I’d never seen him in anything but his cloak.

There was a knock at the door, and Death strode over, opening it. Horace rushed in, pushing a trolley. There was food crammed on top of it, and surprisingly, it didn’t smell terrible. The demon left it by the fire, then hurried off without a word.

I eyed it. I’d planned to give the meal a miss, but I was starving now, and I needed to keep up my strength. “Is there anything here that you need to warn me about?”

“It’s safe,” he said, picking up what looked like a turkey leg and biting off a hunk of meat.

“Safe isn’t what I asked.” I picked up an orange and started peeling it. “I’m more concerned with what that is,” I said, motioning to the leg he was tearing into.

“A bird. Not one you would know, but still a bird. It tastes like chicken.”

Okay. It wasn’t an orange I was peeling, but it had a deep red flesh and looked super juicy. “I’ll take your word for it.” I took a bite.Nope. Grabbing my napkin, I spat out the offending piece of fruit. “What the hell is that?”

Death’s lips actually curved up on one side, and the effect was, well, nothing short of devastating. “A centeen egg.”

“A what?”

“It’s a kind of giant insect. Their eggs are enjoyed like caviar here.”

I gagged and scrubbed the napkin over my tongue. “Jesus, that’s disgusting.”

A low sound rumbled from him. My gaze shot up. He was—holy shit, he was laughing. If I thought the grin was devastating, then Death laughing was… life-altering.

I tried not to stare, stunned, as he took a loaf of bread and tore it in half, then used a knife to scrape out some flesh from the centeen egg and spread it across the bread. “If you eat it the right way, it’s quite delicious.”

“Like hell it is.” I grabbed my wine, which was thankfully good, and swilled it around my mouth. “I’ll be tasting that until the day I die, and thankfully, according to what you’ve told me, I don’t have long to wait.” I smirked and grabbed a piece of bread without bug eggs on it. “How will you remember me? The most annoying consort you’ve ever had—”

“Don’t.” He slammed his hand on the table.

I jumped, tossing the piece of bread in my hand in the air, my heart flying into my throat. He was breathing hard, his nostrils flared, his hand curled into a tight fist.

“Don’t,” he said again, with less force but with a whole lot more feeling.

His blue eyes were burning into me, conveying a lot of things that I didn’t know what to do with. I didn’t know what to say, where the hell to look. “I’m sorry,” I rasped, finding it hard to find my voice. “I… I didn’t mean to upset you.”

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