Page 70 of Living with Death

“That I do,” I agree, taking another sip of the wine. The coolness slides down my throat. I sigh thoughtfully, looking over at Azrael as he gazes at the fire. Sleep threatens me as my eyes grow heavy.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“I am.”

“It's late. Why don't you rest?”

“I'd like to stay up with you.” I’m like a child fighting sleep.

He smiles. “We have tomorrow. Sleep if you're tired.”

I yawn, taking another sip of my wine. “Fine. I guess I will rest for a bit.” I put the glass down, gather the sheet, and walk to the bed.

“Why don't you lie with me?”

“As you wish.” He stands, walks over, and climbs onto the bed. He lies on his back, and I put my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart.

He kisses the top of my head. “Rest now, darling.” His voice sounds forlorn, but I am too tired to question it.

“Hmm,” I say.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I stretch, running my hand across the bed for Azrael, but it's empty.

I blink. “Azrael?” My voice is raspy from sleep. I rub my eyes.

Where could he be? I sit up, looking toward the windows, seeing the sun starting to rise. I place my feet on the floor, running my hand through my hair. The fire still roars, but most of the candles have melted out.

The sky is low-lit, white-pale blue stretching as far as the eye can see. I grab the sheet and wrap it around my body before putting my boots back on. My wine still sits on the floor. I reach and pick it up, drinking a little as I grab a handful of grapes and toss one into my mouth.

I open a window. The chilled air brushes over my face, and I inhale deeply. Last night was possibly the best night of my life. I never knew I could feel so much for another in a short period.

And I had no idea sex could be that amazing.

My core throbs just thinking about his hands, his body between mine, his muscles, and his beautiful face.

Where is he?

I shut the window and walk across the room, taking another sip of my wine. I know it's morning, but who cares. I look down the hallway. “Azrael?”

Nothing, and then I see something on the top of the staircase. A note. I walk over and bend to retrieve it.

“Come find me before the sunrise,” I read.

I bite my lip.

A challenge.

I look back toward the warm room—the safe, not scary space. Darkness still lingers in every corner of this manor. The torches only illuminate so far.

I take a breath and descend the stairs.

Challenge accepted, Azrael. I pop another grape into my mouth, watching the flames toss shadows across the old stone.

Spiderwebs lie in the corners of the second floor, and old leaves pile against the wall. Each room is as vast as the last. An office with stained glass windows, a bookcase filled with thick novels. A room with a bed, a sitting area, and a fireplace across from a couch with dusty velvet cushions.

I peer into the shadows, looking at forgotten wardrobes with outdated dresses—soft, worn rugs rest across the marble floor with fainting divans. Wrought iron chandlers hang from the tall ceilings, and a pigeon flutters its wings, flying from one side of the room to the other.

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