Page 8 of A Bond in Flames

Goddammit, I had no choice but to take it, or I’d draw attention to the fact that I was quietly freaking out at the prospect of my fingers touching his. “Aren’t you?”Three, two, one.I grabbed it, and my breath was slammed from my lungs when his rough, warm skin seared mine. His gaze sliced to me, and the one-two smack of power had me staggering back.

“Sit down,” he said without concern or explanation.

I all but fell back onto the leather chair. “You did that on purpose,” I bit out.

He sipped his drink. “Did what?”

“Forced me to touch you. Gave me a bump of your power.” Why lie? It was obvious at this point, and my avoidance of touching him couldn’t have been lost on him.

He studied me. “You’re stronger than I expected.”

“You were testing me? Why?” He didn’t answer, just stared at me. I refused to squirm as the silence stretched out. “You won’t tell me?”

“It’s time for us to begin,” he said. “I believe it’s my turn to go first.”

No, he wasn’t going to tell me; in fact, he was going to ignore what I’d asked completely. “You know I’ll only ask you when it’s my turn.”

“You will not,” he said. “You will ask something else.”

I stared at him, and it was so incredibly hard, but I didn’t look away. “Then I’d strongly suggest you don’t ever do that again. I agreed to come here, but I didn’t agree to be your entertainment or whatever the hell that was.”

“The males you fucked, consort, were you in love with any of them?” he asked, as if I hadn’t spoken at all, jumping into what was obviously his question for the night.

What the actual hell was this? Death seemed to be in the midst of some fucked-up metamorphosis, from a cloak-wearing, staff-thumping, rage-fueled monster to what stood before me now. He was all god, there was no mistaking it, but at times like this, there was a humanness to him that took me off guard. I sipped my drink, trying to decide how to answer. “I’ve believed myself in love many times.”

He stilled, then placed his glass on the mantel above the fire. One moment he was there; the next, he was looming over me, his massive, tattooed hands on either side of me, gripping the arms of the chair. “Did you give your heart to any of the seven males you lay with, wife?”

“You’re really hooked on that number, huh?” I said absolutely unwisely and despite my pounding heart, but I wasn’t the kind of female to let a male walk all over me, not even Death himself, it seemed—not without a little fight, anyway. His scent filled the space between us, and it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before—dark, rich, and smooth, heady in a way that made you want more. It was too much, like everything else about him. Having him this close was like facing off against a fire-breathing dragon, and I tried so hard, but there was no controlling my body’s deep trembles.

“Breathe,” he said roughly.

That’s when I realized my lungs were screaming for oxygen, and I gasped in a much-needed breath.

“Now, give me my answer,” he said, studying me.

I was all but panting. “No, I have never truly given my heart to any male,” I choked out. “And I never will,” I added for reasons unknown.

His gaze slid over my face, and I felt it like the lick of the dragon’s tongue. His eyes did that thing they had at breakfast earlier, almost brightening. “I believe you.”

Then slowly, too slowly, he straightened, reclaimed his drink, and looked back into the fire as if none of that had just happened, while I sat there panting and trembling and trying to get my shit together. I wanted to make him squirm. I wanted to throw him off-balance like he seemed to be enjoying doing to me today.

Hemy gave me a little nudge, then pressed against me, sensing my unease and trying to soothe me. I drew strength from him. He may be tiny, but his love for me, his loyalty, was mighty. I licked my windburned lips and looked up… and caught Death looking at my mouth. I cleared my throat, and his gaze slowly slid up, locking on mine. It would be so easy to look away, to lose the battle of wills between us. He may be stronger, his battle plan more forceful, his arsenal far better equipped, but I was just as relentless. My attack was more subtle, yes, but I had no intention of waving the white flag anytime soon, no matter how exhausting this fight was.

“Tell me, my lord, am I the only consort you’ve had?” Someone had used that room before me, a female, and I’d wondered….

His glass paused on the way to his mouth, and he stared into it. His jaw tightened slightly. “No.”

I stilled. “How many? I want a number,” I said, throwing his words back at him from earlier that day.

“More than one and less than ten,” he said, doing the same as I had.

What the hell did that mean? And where were his other consorts now? “What happened to them?”

“You asked your question, and I gave you your answer,” he said.

“That was a non-answer—”

A roar of agony rattled the castle walls. Death slammed his glass on the mantel, spun, and strode from the room. I didn’t know what possessed me, but I shoved off the chair and rushed after him. This was different. Somnus’s roars of pain sounded different—goddess, horrifying and more… desperate.

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