Page 72 of A Bond in Flames

“You know I love making a female feel good, babe, but sometimes, all I’m fucking after is a simple touch, a hug, you know? That’s all. As for a mate, I’m good. I have brothers who’ve been waiting a fuck of a lot longer than me. They should be first,” he said, and it was as serious as I’d ever heard him. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Hounds were extremely tactile, craved touch, and loved hugs, and what he’d just said broke my heart a little. “That’s not how this works, and if you need a hug, I’m here… well, when I am here. But if she’s out there, you’ll find each other. Whose turn it is or if we’re ready has nothing to do with it. The fates do whatever the hell they like.” I knew that better than most. I gave his big, rough-skinned hand a squeeze and stood.

“The fates are evil bitches,” he said and took a sip of his beer.

Or maybe they were the only ones who actually knew what was good for us, and we needed to just stop fighting it and give in.

* * *

It was late when we got back to Jazzy and Ren’s place. They’d gone straight to bed, and I’d popped earplugs in when sounds started drifting down the hall that I sure as hell did not want to hear.

I’d also had plenty of opportunities to tell Jazzy or one of my cousins what Death had said to me before I’d left Limbo, but I hadn’t.

“But I’m begging you… choose me over everything and everyone, over a life with them, over the possibility of death here with me.”

“Choose me.”

I squeezed my eyes closed and curled my fingers into fists. Why the hell had he said that? We could have carried on as we were for just a little longer. Now he was going to force my hand. He was going to make me choose. I wasn’t in love with him—but I felt something. There was this pull inside me, distant but strong. Incredibly strong. Not love—it couldn’t be—but something… something else. And even if what I felt for him did run deeper, even if I was falling for him, how could I choose him? How could I leave behind my sister? My family? I couldn’t. Goddess, this hurt. I hated him for doing this to me, and I hated myself for even feeling the slightest bit conflicted about this. The answer should be easy. He forced me into a bargain I didn’t want. He’d taken me away from everyone I loved.

This should be easy.

Then why the hell wasn’t it?

CHAPTER23

Zinnia

The wind blewoutside the castle. As she numbly sat on the couch in front of the fire, she stared down at the small vial gripped in her shaky, paint-stained fingers. It was full of something dark and noxious smelling. She was so cold, empty, broken. A tear slid down her cheek as she pulled out the cork and poured it into her mouth. Pain burned her throat and gut, scorched through her veins. Blood coming from her nose and eyes dripped from her chin onto her hands. She screamed, but not from the pain—from the relief.

The room spun away to another place, looking through another female’s eyes—no, this time, I was looking through my eyes.

Death stood among the trees, his cloak covering him. Snarls and growls came from beneath his hood.

Rage.

He slammed his staff down on the ground, and the earth shook beneath my feet.

“Mors,” I called, running toward him, but he was moving farther and farther away from me. I called his name again, trying to reach him.

The world around me froze, and so did I.

Death tilted his head back and roared.

I gasped, shoving back the covers as I sat bolt upright. Then I was frozen, trying to find purchase. I was caught between the horror of the first vision and the desperate fear of the second.

Gods, I didn’t know if my brain had conjured the vision of me and Death, or… or if that really had been him and something was terribly wrong.

Rubbing my face, I tried to wake myself up as I slid my feet into the slippers Jazzy had waiting for me and dragged on my favorite oversized cardigan that Else had knitted me years ago, which reached my knees. Hemy scurried across the mattress, and I held out my hand so he could run up and perch on my shoulder. He burrowed under my hair. “Morning, my sweet boy.”

I walked out and found Jaz was at the kitchen counter. She was smearing butter on toast and had a butterfly of some variety on top of her head. “You have a good sleep?” she asked, lighting up when she saw me.

I pulled my earplugs out and held them up. “Thanks to these, yes.” I popped them in my pocket. “Listening to my sister enthusiastically bone her mate isn’t something I ever want to hear again.”

She flushed. “Oh shit, sorry.”

I shrugged. “It was gross, but it also made me happy that you’re so happy and apparently getting laid really well.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Yes, I most definitely am, but let’s never mention that again.” She held up her toast. “Want some?”

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