Page 52 of A Bond in Flames

Again, I wasn’t the jealous type, but something was developing between us, something wild and huge and unstoppable, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like for him with all of them.

“I’m being an idiot,” I said to Hemy. He hissed his disagreement. “You’re just saying that because you love me.” He squeaked, and I scratched his tiny chin. “Thank the goddess I have you, my sweetheart.” Because now that we were back in the castle, I was feeling off-kilter. I wasn’t sure what my role was anymore, what I was supposed to do.

Death was into me, that much was clear, and I was seriously struggling to come to terms with the fact that after eighteen months of coming here, I was now suddenly into him as well, like in a seriously big way.

The door opened, and he strode in.

His gaze sliced to the bed as soon as he walked in, and when he saw me, he grinned.

Not his normal grin. I’d never seen this grin; it lit up his entire face. “You’re pretty drunk, huh?” I said, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

“Not at all,” he said, and the way he said it made it obvious that he was totally drunk.

“How much ambrosia did you and Somnus drink?”

He sauntered over, kicked off his boots, and then reached back, pulling off his shirt before tossing it aside. He stared down at me, eyes glinting. “I like seeing you in my bed, little witch, very much.”

I laughed softly. “I can see that.”

He flopped down on the bed beside me, then scooted over and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Fuck, I love the way you laugh. It’s husky and so incredibly bewitching.” I was still sitting, but now, with his big body wrapped around me and his head in my lap, I was stuck out of the covers.

I looked at the huge, tattooed god in my lap, his face relaxed in a way I’d never seen before, and my chest warmed. When was the last time he’d allowed himself to be this vulnerable?

“I like your laugh as well.” I ran my hand along his shoulder, massaging.

He groaned, then dragged the sheet under him back and curled his hand around my bare thigh. “And I love your smooth skin.” He pressed his nose to it. “And the way you smell, like honey and your garden and the night sky.”

Now my belly was all swirly. “What does the night sky smell like?”

“Clean and crisp… overwhelming, breathtaking,” he muttered. “What do I smell like?”

I blinked at his question, not expecting it at all. “Well—”

“And if you say death or some variation of it, like decay or rot, I’ll tan your lovely ass.”

Another laugh burst from me. “That does sound like something I’d say.”

“Because I know you, my sweet Stella. I know all of you,” he said, and there was a little more slur to his words.

Stella.Yes, it meant star, but I still didn’t want him calling me that, especially when I’d had visions of him using that name affectionately with other consorts. There was no point calling him out on it while he was like this, though, and I didn’t want to argue with him either, so I answered his question because despite him using that name, I was enjoying seeing Death like this—relaxed. Open. “Right now, you smell like leather and ambrosia and power,” I said, giving him his answer.

“How does power smell?” he asked, turning my question back on me.

“Like endless shadows, vast and wild.” I traced his lower lip. “Overwhelming, breathtaking.”

He grinned. “Copycat.”

“It’s the truth.”

He made a sound of agreement. “You always tell the truth, don’t you, love?”

My heart kind of paused when he called me that, then exploded back to life. “I try to.”

“Will you leave me?”

I was stunned silent for a moment, then quickly rallied. “I can’t. We have a deal, remember?”

“But if you could, would you leave?”

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