He was breathing hard, that fist still clenched tight.
“I was just joking around, okay? I do that when I’m freaked about something. It annoys my sister as well.”
Still, he said nothing. What the hell was his problem, anyway?
“You really are pissed off?” Now I was getting pissed. “Well, that’s kind of selfish of you, honestly. It’s my head on the chopping block. I think I have a right to deal with it however I like.”
He stood with a snarl. “Do you want to die, is that it? Do you have a fucking death wish, consort?”
“No, but I am one of alongline of consorts, and you told me yourself that most have died pretty fucking gruesomely, so forgive me, but something like that is kind of hard to forget.”
He leaned forward, planting his hands on the trolley between us. “Then don’t fucking die.”
I stared up at him. “I’m definitely going to try not to, Mors, but my odds don’t sound that good,” I fired back at him.
“All you have to do is stay close to me, and you’ll live. It’s not hard.”
“You make it sound so easy, but obviously, it’s not, or consort number one would still be here with you, right? Or is that not how it works? ’Cause you sure as hell haven’t tried to help me understand.”
He ground his teeth. “There are things I can’t tell you, things I want to tell you… so…” he growled. “So fucking badly. But I can’t, so your only hope is to trust me.”
I scoffed. “Right? Easy. Trust the guy who obviously does not trust me in the slightest. You make deals and barter with me because you don’t trust I’ll keep my word, yet you want me to just give you blind trust without even attempting to earn it?”
He straightened and paced away, his hand running over his tattooed skull. His back moved with the way his chest heaved. Where the fuck had this come from?
“If you want me to trust you, why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?” I said. “Why are you so pissed off right now? It can’t just be about what I said.”
He spun around. “You saw me in your vision, in your dream, with… with her. Tell me, Zinnia, what you saw.”
I’d seen him with possibly more than one “her” but I knew the one he was talking about—the one he’d called Aster. I swallowed, my throat dry. “You were…”
“‘Making love’ were the words you used. Try having that,feeling that… then reaching for it over and over again and having it taken from you. You dying, little witch, isn’t something I want to even fucking think about.” Then he snatched up his bag, turned, and strode into the bathroom, slamming the door after him.
Leaving me sitting there utterly stunned and, again, seriously confused.
I lost my appetite after that, and when he finally came out of the bathroom, subdued and smelling like soap, I grabbed my own bag and locked myself in the bathroom as well. I took my time, having a long, hot shower. My muscles ached, and I didn’t smell the freshest after days of riding and walking.
As I dressed, pulling on a pair of shorts and a soft T-shirt, I thought about Hemlock. Egon would look after him, but I missed him so damn much. Where would he sleep tonight? Shaking it off, I forced myself to open the door and walk back out into the room. The only light was coming from the fire. Death was in bed, one arm behind his head, his eyes closed. The chair would have to do. I started toward it.
“Get in the bed, Zinnia.”
He’d said my name again. “I’ll just take the chair.”
“You’ve called me by my name three times now.”
I spun to face him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I’m calling the first one in.”
“You’re going to make me sleep with you?”
“I’m going to make you sleep in a comfortable bed and get a decent night’s rest before we face the Night Sea tomorrow, and I know you’re too stubborn to do anything I ask, so I’ll make you do it.”
I huffed out a breath. “Why are you like this?”
“Get in the bed.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” I was pretty sure I saw his lips curl up again.