Page 6 of A Bond in Flames

The room he’d given me was large and filled with antiques and trinkets. It was like someone had just gotten up and walked out, leaving everything behind. It also had its own sitting area, but I didn’t use it. I wasn’t sure why, only that I got this odd, queasy feeling when I did and an ache in my chest that I didn’t understand, which was why I preferred the library.

I sat Hemy on the bed that was shoved in the corner like an afterthought, snatched up some clothes, and quickly showered. I may be his prisoner, but I wasn’t going to just give up and obey every one of his unreasonable demands. Still, I didn’t linger. I needed to make a stand, but I didn’t want to make him angry either.

Death was already sitting at the massive black lacquer table when I walked in.

He eyed me over his mug, gaze sliding from head to foot and back. “You ignored my order.”

“Are you surprised?” I said and sat, smiling at Egon when he put a cup of tea in front of me, just the way I liked it, smelling of the fragrant herbs I’d grown.

I’d planted the herbs I needed in the kitchen garden. I was a witch—being without my herbs wasn’t something I could tolerate. Death hadn’t said anything when I’d brought a bagful of seedlings my third month coming here and made room for myself in his grounds. It was bad enough my medium powers were greatly hindered here, which was not surprising. I was in Limbo, after all. There was no need for souls to communicate with me; I didn’t even know where the hell they were. Honestly, I had no idea how this realm worked. Thankfully, my magic was still okay.

“No,” he said, his long, thick, tattooed fingers curling tighter around his mug. “I’d be more surprised if you actually did as I asked of you, consort.”

“You don’t ask—you demand. In case you haven’t worked it out yet, I don’t like orders.” I smiled at Lyle, Egon’s adult son, when he placed my overnight oats beside my tea. “Thanks, Lyle.” He gave me a quick grin and hustled back to the kitchen.

“Eventually, you will learn my way is best,” Death said. “In all things.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I said, scooping up a spoonful of oats and shoving it in my mouth. Something moved through his eyes; they kind of brightened, or maybe I was imagining it.

“Since we missed our evening drink, we’ll make up for it now. I’ll go first,” he said.

Dammit, I’d hoped he’d forgotten. I shook my head. “You went first last time.”

Death had pulled on a shirt—it was black—but he’d only done up a couple of buttons, so most of his chest was visible. It was as if he didn’t like wearing clothes or could barely tolerate them. I wanted a better look at his tattoos, but I didn’t want to stare. I’d caught glimpses of them but not a good look—again, because staring was not something I wanted him to catch me doing. The only one that was easy to see was the star that covered most of his chest. The center of it was decorated in swirls that created the appearance of shadows and light.

He sat back in his seat. “Your answer the night before was unsatisfactory. So I’ll go first.”

“And you gave me the same answer you do every time,” I fired back.

“Because, so far, that has been the only answer required.”

Our nightly drink took place in the library and consisted of us each asking the other a question. I’d refused when he’d first proposed it. The last thing I’d wanted was to spend any more alone time with Death. When I’d denied him, he’d raged for hours, throwing an epic tantrum. Then, when my cousin Magnolia had inadvertently pissed him off during her trial, I’d been forced to barter with him. The only way to save her from his wrath was to let him have his way. So I’d reluctantly agreed to question time.

From the moment I first came here, he’d been angry and intense and volatile. He still was, but since I returned a week ago, the anger wasn’t rolling off him in hot waves like it had, and the volatile energy had calmed as well. It was still there but not as bad as before. Again, I wasn’t sure why. This Death was different from the one I left the month before, and I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with him.

I defied him—something I’d done since I first came here—but the Death sitting across from me now wasn’t furious because I was bickering with him. He seemed almost… intrigued.

There had been questions I’d wanted to ask him but hadn’t dared. I’d kept them simple for a reason. But without all the unhinged rage, I decided to try my luck. “Fine. I’ll let you go first, but I get two questions.”

He sat his mug down and rested his lightly clasped hands on the table. “Very well.”

I was taken aback by his easy acquiescence.

The blue of his eyes grew darker and then stormy, the calm I stupidly thought I saw vanishing before my eyes. “Tell me, wife, how many males have you fucked?”

Inside, I flinched; outwardly, I showed nothing, or at least I hoped I hadn’t. This was a turn I hadn’t anticipated—not at all. I shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

“I’d have to count.”

“I’ll wait.” He stared me down.

I tried not to squirm. What the fuck was this? Was this some kind of trap? Was he hoping for a virgin bride? I had no reason to lie, and I wouldn’t, but this could be a good way to test this newish version of Death. I sat back and pretended I was having a hard time remembering, counting on my fingers. Was it stupid to rile Death? Absolutely. Had I been doing it anyway since I came here? Definitely. Finally, I sat forward and winked. “Less than ten.”

“I want a number.”

“More than five. I will say, my number would be a lot higher if I hadn’t been so busy looking after my sister and working all the time. I’ve had more offers than I can count.”

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