Page 83 of A Bond in Flames

I wanted to tell him he could have me. That no matter where I was, I was his and he was mine, but he wouldn’t let me speak, too lost in his rage to see, to see me. I let him hook his arm around my waist and pin me to the wall. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hung on tight when he tore my underwear from my body.

“I hate you,” he said roughly, “for doing this to me.” He nipped my earlobe. “Why did you do this to me?” His voice was a desperate plea. He swung my leg around his hip, and I lifted the other one, hanging on. “Why?” he growled and slammed inside me.

I tried to cry out, but no sound came; all I could do was hold on as he took me, pouring all his pain and rage into me.

“You break me and break me, and I let you.” He made a sobbing, gasping sound. “I let you destroy me.” He fucked me harder, fisting my hair and tilting my head back. “I won’t do this again.” He shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

He thrust into me over and over, nipping, sucking on my skin, my mouth, while he made sounds like a wounded animal, while he fed me his hate and anger and lust and gave me no choice but to take it, not letting me give him anything at all.

I wrapped my arms around him tighter, hanging on, clawing at his back. The darkness surrounded us, and his face shifted, transforming as the shadows gathered, turning him into the God of Death, my god. He slammed into me until there was no holding it back, and I tried, I tried so hard, because I had an awful feeling that when this ended, nothing would be the same again.

He sank his teeth into the side of my throat, and I screamed silently, still unable to make a sound, coming hard around him. My body jarred against the wall, and he thrust into me two more times and came as well, grinding into me until we were both spent.

Finally, he lifted his head, looking down at me, his face nothing but a skull, the blue of his eyes gone, obscured by shadow. “No more,” he rasped, and then he stepped back.

My body stayed suspended against the wall, and Death lifted his hands.

“No more,” he roared like a wounded beast, then jerked his hands to the side.

My world spun—

I slammed against the mattress, waking with a cry.

I gripped my stomach, my chest, my head. I felt as if I were being torn apart. Tears soaked my cheeks, and I realized my pain wasn’t physical. No, what I was feeling was my heart breaking. Everything was a mess; something was happening to Death. That wasn’t a dream; it was real, what had happened between us. He was in pain, and I’d caused it.

Someone knocked on my door. “Zinny, it’s Else. Quickly, get dressed.”

* * *

We were all in Else’s small room. Not everyone that loved her was here—it would be impossible to fit them all in this house—but the people who knew her best, who had been lucky enough to know what it was to be loved, really loved, by her, cared for by her, and fiercely protected by her, were gathered in this room.

The small space was overflowing with so many emotions; there was sadness, of course, but mostly there was love.

Magnolia held one of Else’s hands, and Daisy, the other. Stan looked at me, his gaze sliding between me and Jasmine, and he smiled. “Thank you,”he said.

We’d been the only people he’d been able to communicate with for so very long, and now he and Else would finally be together again.

I took Jasmine’s hand, and we walked forward. I crouched beside the bed, and Jazzy kept hold of my hand. “You know we love you, Else. So much. You were there for us when our own mother couldn’t be, so when I tell you this, you have to promise not to be mad at us… or Stanley.”

Else took a ragged breath. “Spill.”

I brushed my hand over the back of hers, so frail now when she’d always been such strength for us, for all of us. “He made us promise not to tell you, but he’s been here, right here, by your side since he died. He’s been a friend to me and to Jazzy, a confidant, and an example of what true love looks like, because, goddess… he loves you, so very much. It’s so big, Else, so beautiful. He’s standing right there”—I motioned to where he stood just in front of us—“and he’s been standing there, at your side, for over fifty years. Laughing at your jokes, making eyes at you as if the sun and the moon rose and fell with you, and waiting. Waiting until you could finally be together again.”

Jaz came down beside me and gently touched her soft hair. “You have nothing to fear, Else. Not one thing. Stanley will be there to greet you with open arms. You’ll be together forever.”

A tear slid down her wrinkled cheek. “He’s… there?” She looked to the spot beside her.

I nodded.

Another tear slid down her face. “I thought… I-I t-thought he’d gone… but then I felt him. I-I’ve been…”

Her breathing became more labored, and Jaz and I stepped back to make room for our cousins. Mags climbed onto the bed beside her. Everyone surrounded her. Daisy started the chant, and then, one by one, we all joined in. We were saying words of love, of faith, calling on the mother to usher her safely into the arms of her loved ones. As the words overlapped, they became more a melody than a chant—a song so sweet and so filled with warmth, Else smiled, her gaze moving around the room to everyone here.

Stan stepped forward. “See you on the flip side,” he said to me and Jazzy, and then he held out his hand to Else.

CHAPTER27

Zinnia

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