Page 66 of Living with Death

Mabel looks up, scanning her eyes over the aged novels, forgotten just as this manor is. They're indeed rat-eaten by now, but there might be a few still intact.

The smell of lavender drifts in the air from the flowers near the windows. It mingles with the smell of old books.

The look on Mabel's face makes my heart pound and my chest tighten. I slide a hand into my pocket, hearing the wood crackle.

Across the room is a four-post bed with black silk sheets. A fur rug lies on the marble floor in front of the fireplace. There's wine and food, and a record player in the corner.

I scratch my jaw as she looks around the room, her eyes shining in the candlelight.

“Is this cringey?” I'm sure my expression is evident–– I'm worried I overdid it. I should have gotten a hotel room. We could have shared a pizza and watched one of Mabel's favorite movies.

Mabel grins. “Cringey is not the word I would use.”

“What would you use then?” There are leaves under the windowsill, and they crunch beneath her boots as she looks out. The moon shines on the trees, painting the forest in silver.

“Thoughtful.” I can see her reflection in the windows.

“Thoughtful?” I ask. I didn't think this was thoughtful.

“Yes. You've been reading more thanThe Shining.” She smiles.

I walk over to her. “What other word would you use?”

“Beautiful.”

“Why is that?”

She turns, and I'm right behind her. “How can it not be?” she says.

I angle my head, lifting my hand. I run it down the side of her face, over her throat. The energy in the room shifts. Gone is the lighthearted conversation. The chemistry between us crackles as the air thickens. Hunger for her runs through my bones like blood through my veins. “You should be afraid of me, and yet you're not. Do you realize you're far from anyone in a dark, abandoned manor with the Angel of Death?” I whisper.

She swallows. “Why did you bring me here?”

Oh, what dirty thoughts flow through my mind. I've been with numerous females, but not one has made me feel the way this one does.

I want to lick every inch of her skin and make her mine for eternity. I can tell her the bed is just for her, that I won't be using it. We'll have a few glasses of wine and listen to music, and Mabel will go to sleep, but that is a lie.

I bend, placing my hands on the windowsill behind her. I look into her eyes. “Darling, you know I want you.”

She licks her lips. “Then what are you waiting for?”

I clench my jaw and grab her. Our mouths clash, and I lick her tongue, as she does mine. She moans, and I press her closer to me. The sound is so sweet. Her scent surrounds me, more potent than anything I’ve ever smelled. Her arousal sets my soul on fire.

I need to feel her skin against mine, feel her warmth as I settle between her legs. She must think the same, for she grips my shirt and lifts it over my head. She roams her soft hands over my chest. I grab her ass and lift her into the air, my fingers digging into her thighs as she wraps her legs around me.

I place her on the windowsill, and I drop to my knees, looking at her face, the need burning in her emerald green eyes. Her red hair falls over one side, and she lifts her chin, looking down at me. Her legs spread, her hands resting on the tops of her thighs, and her mouth open. Her chest heaves as she breathes.

It's only she and I, as it should be.

“I'm going to devour you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Azrael on his knees before me nearly drives me mad. He removes one boot before sliding my sock off and placing my foot on his shoulder. My heart is thundering. The smell of sweet lavender invades my senses as old books spy on us from above.

The candles twinkle across the room, creating a cozy setting as Azrael pulls the shoestring and lets the other boot drop.

The anticipation is going to kill me.

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