Page 67 of A Bond in Flames

“He got me to lay down. He drugged me and shoved his hand in my stomach. The pain was so bad, I lost consciousness. I don’t know exactly what happened when I was out… not good things, I know that much. My entire body hurt when I woke with the markings on my arm.” I ran my hand over the scar where I cut the mark out so Death could find me. I glanced back up at him. “I’m pretty sure he took more than my womb that day as trade.” Death shot to his feet with a roar, his chair flying back and crashing against the floor. I stood as well. “So yes, Mors, I know loss.”

“Fluke belongs to Nox,” he said as he grabbed the end of the huge wooden table and flipped it, tossing it halfway across the room. “I will kill him. I will make him scream. I’ll find a way to destroy my mother. I will make her wish for death.”

Of course Nox, that twisted bitch, had a hand in what happened to me. She’d seen me coming. She’d found me when Death had. I could rage about the unjustness of it all, like Death was, but it was too late. It was done. One truth remained, though. “We’re not good for each other,” I said.

He was breathing hard. “You’re not leaving me.”

No denial—he knew I was right. “I’ve been here for a lunar month. I leave first thing in the morning. While I’m gone, I want you to decide if this”—I motioned between us—“really is what you want. If all this pain and anger you’re feeling is really worth it to trap me here, when it’s obvious neither of us want this. You don’t love me, Mors. You don’t. What you’re feeling is a lie, a manipulation, a byproduct of the fates’ meddling. Love isn’t forcing someone to be with you… not when you’ve made it clear you despise me more than you truly want me.”

“You’re wrong,” he choked out. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand. Give me something… give me anything.”

He stared across at me, mouth gritted shut, eyes burning into me, but he said nothing.

His hands were tied.

Still, disappointment filled me as I turned away and strode from the room.

CHAPTER21

Zinnia

I glancedat my bags by the door as I got into bed. Hemlock was curled up in my carpetbag under one of my scarves. He was ready to go home and see everyone. He missed them as much as I did when we were gone.

Death had to see how toxic this situation was. Yes, he’d let down his guard with me and shown me another side of him, but on the turn of a dime, he’d snap. Something about me called the darkness in him, and the anger always crept back. Even when he didn’t outwardly show it, I felt it.

He had to see ending this was for the best.

The only times we were good together were when we were naked, and he’d taken that off the table in an attempt to control me—a seriously destructive move, especially if he was trying to build some kind of real relationship with me. But he wasn’t. I got the feeling he was waiting for the inevitable—my demise, just like the rest of them.

There was so much I didn’t understand about this place, about his motives. He said I needed to work it out for myself but then blocked me at every turn. I promised him I’d try, but I was getting nowhere. Jazzy’s twenty-first birthday was fast approaching, and if I couldn’t convince him to release me, I’d be trapped here, trapped in his anger and loathing until whatever killed his previous consorts killed me too.

I pulled the covers higher and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm my racing heart. I knew all these things, but goddess, I missed him. I missed those small calm moments when he looked at me in a way that curled my toes, and I missed his grin, and that laugh, and the way he touched me, kissed me. No one had ever made me feel as wonderful or as fucking awful as he could.

My eyes grew heavy, and I let them drift closed, allowing the darkness to pull me under for maybe the last time in this room.

The sky outside the castle window was dark and heavy. She pressed her hand to the glass, a sob falling from her lips. The weight of her pain was unbearable. She was scared and lonely, so incredibly lonely. Hand trembling, she picked up a knife and, holding it tight, brought it to her throat….

The room spun, and a female walked outside. She was running, running through the forest. Running with nowhere to go. She fell, but she didn’t get up. She lay in the dirt and prayed her heart would stop, that it would just stop.

I woke with my heart pounding. Two different females this time, and their agony was like an ache in my bones, my soul. Their pain and loneliness were my own.

A dark, intoxicating scent reached me, and I knew I wasn’t in my room alone anymore. Shoving myself up to my elbows, I blinked into the darkness. Death stood at the end of my bed in only a pair of dark trousers. His hairless, tattooed chest almost glowed under the muted light coming through the window.

His head was dipped like he was praying, his hands at his sides, fingers curled into fists. I sat up, but he said nothing, and neither did I for the longest time.

Finally, I wrapped my arms around my knees. “They killed themselves, didn’t they? Your consorts ended their own lives?”

He lifted his head and sucked in a breath when his bright blue eyes locked on me. No shadows, no darkness, just clear, vibrant blue. “All but one, yes.”

The one at the cliff. She hadn’t jumped; she’d been pushed. “Why?”

“Because they were never meant to be here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You need to try.”

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