Page 7 of A Bond in Flames

He set his mug down slowly. “Are you mocking me?”

“Of course not.” I scooped another spoonful of oats. “Seven,” I said, giving him his answer and shoving the oats in my mouth.

Fury etched his terrifyingly beautiful face, turning it utterly sinister. He didn’t like that.

I gripped the edge of the table so he didn’t see my hands tremble and forced a smirk. “Am I too much of a whore to be your consort now? By all means, send me back and forget I exist.”

Darkness began to swirl around him. His cloak was made of moving shadows. Right now, they were barely there, but I saw them. His cloak gave away his moods—the more volatile he was feeling, the darker it became, wrapping around him. “Ask your questions,” he said, voice filled with quiet menace.

I refused to be intimidated, even if I was trembling inside. “From what I understand, your mother created you and your brother rather than birthing you, turning you both into gods. Is that true?” My question obviously took him aback as well. He was used to my simple, no-stress questions. Nox, his and Somnus’s mother, was the personification of night. I had yet to meet her, and from what little information I’d been able to find about her, that was a good thing.

“Yes,” he said.

The passage I’d read said she’d created him and Somnus from light, that he’d existed before his godly status. “What were you before she made you a god?”

He went utterly still, studying me so closely, I had to fight not to whimper.

“A star,” he finally said and stood.

I stared at him, unable to hide my surprise. “Like you were part of the universe?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have something I need to attend to, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, then strode away, the dark shadows of his cloak flowing heavily around him as he left the room.

CHAPTER2

Zinnia

I pluckeda sprig of rosemary from my hair while I smeared on lip balm. I’d been outside all day working in my garden. The seasons here… well, there weren’t any—not here at the castle, anyway. It was different every day. Today the air had been dry with an icy bite to it, and my lips felt windblown and swollen.

The light was gone outside now, and I preferred to be indoors when that happened. Too many noises I did not like came from the woods around the grounds when night fell. I glanced at the silver clock on the wall; it was intricately tooled, delicate birds and foliage all over it. It was one of my favorite pieces in my room—it was also time to get a hustle on.

Scooping up Hemy, who’d been watching me from the top of my dresser, I put him on my shoulder. He pressed his little body against my neck as we walked out. “Let’s go face the music.”

If I’d known Death would force me to make up for our missed question time this morning, I would have hunted him down last night and forced him to do it when we were scheduled to, because twice in one day was not something I ever wanted to contend with again.

As always, the shadows and harsh whispers followed me as I rushed by. They were souls, or at least some kind of reflection of them from around Limbo, their voices echoing down the hall, their emotions like a heavy cloud. They haunted the halls, and I’d tried many times, but I couldn’t reach them, couldn’t communicate with them—with any souls at all when I was here. I was more than a little curious about the souls here and how this realm worked, but no one had offered to share.

Death’s voice rolled from the library, followed by Egon’s far gentler one, answering.

Death had made himself scarce since we ate this morning, when things took a weird turn with the whole what’s-your-number question. He’d been pissed when he left. I really hoped he was in a better mood tonight, because I was tired, I missed my sister and my cousins and aunts, and the thought of sparring with him this evening had me feeling weary to the bone. It was all we did, but no matter how tired I was, I would meet him barb for barb. You gave Death an inch? Well, I didn’t want to know what him taking a mile entailed.

Taking a fortifying breath, I knocked on the door. Death’s gaze slid to me when I walked in, and I felt it like a lick of fire up my spine.

“I’ll stay with him, my lord,” Egon said, dipping his head and rushing from the room.

Death turned to the sideboard, and thetinkof crystal came next.

He was pouring our drinks, which was all part of the ritual, I guess. I wasn’t sure why he’d wanted this so badly.

I sneaked a glance over at him. His black shirt clung to his massive upper body, open to just below his pecs, giving a flash of the star tattooed on his chest. On closer inspection, I realized there were two more inside it—one slightly smaller, the same shape exactly, and another, much smaller one among the intricate swirls in the center. Small but bright. He lifted his gaze, and I quickly looked away.

“You smell like your garden,” he said when he closed the space between us and held out my drink.

Oh, cool. He was smelling me again. Thatwasn’t unsettling at all.“No flies on you tonight, my dark, malevolent one,” I said with a smirk, trying to hide my discomfort, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

This was the part I dreaded the most during our usual question time, taking the glass from him without our fingers touching. I usually just grabbed it on the top and bottom, avoiding where his hand wrapped around it. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t do it. Touch Death? Not fucking likely, but tonight, he stood beside me, facing the fire as well, and instead of turning to face me when I did, he stayed where he was. His hand engulfed the glass, and his pinky was tucked under it. There was no taking the glass from him without my fingers touching his.

“You think me malevolent?” he asked, still holding out the glass.

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