Page 52 of Merciless
I was sweating, shivering, nauseous, and weak. Every glance toward the cabin’s door, and every inch I moved in that direction, provided a small amount of relief that was never quite enough.
“Your body is failing.” Hades stared at me, narrow-eyed, his mouth in a hard line. “You’re inching closer to death.”
“Fuck.” I closed my fists at my side and turned my back toward the cabin. Each step I took away from that structure was pure agony, like fire stripping away the flesh from my legs. But I was no stranger to pain.It’s not real,I reminded myself through gritted teeth.This isn’t my real body. I’m lying unconscious in a dungeon with Shadow, and I have to stay alive.
It sure as fuck felt real though. I doubled over, my stomach roiling in protest.Just one look. It’ll take the edge off.
The glance over my shoulder only made me feel worse, like my body was punishing me for putting more distance between me and that cabin.
“Quetzalcoatl,” Hades snapped at the other god.
Pretzel-what?
“Can’t you stabilize him any more? He’s fading.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve reached the limit of my healing abilities.” The other god’s hands stretched out in front of him, palms facing each other and fingers extended like he was playing one of those kid games with a piece of string. He was still standing on the front porch of the cabin, blocking the door, his face a mask of concentration, focused on his hands. Whatever he was doing may have been fascinating to watch, but all I could think about was him being in my fucking way.
“Move.” I had doubled over so far, I was now on my hands and knees, crawling toward the only place that would give me relief. “Get out of my way.”
“Don’t, Reaper,” Hades pleaded. “You must hold on.”
“Then fucking stop me!”
The death god looked truly conflicted. “I can’t interfere with your free will.”
“You want to hold on, Reaper,” the other god added, his fingers moving like he was weaving an invisible piece of string between them. “Your wife is on her way to you.”
I halted my crawling, fingers curling into the dirt beneath my palms. “Mari? She’s coming?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t elaborate. The unspoken words felt like an additional form of torture, bringing my agony to a new level. But it gave me something to fight the pull of death that so seductively promised me sweet relief.
I rocked back on my heels, bringing my chest up despite the motion feeling like barbed wire being wrapped around my heart. “Is she going to make it? How much longer?”
“I’m sorry. I know many things, but I don’t know the answers to your questions.”
My palms slapped back to the ground, frustration and defeat riding me hard. “Is she okay? Does she have a chance or should I just give in now?”
“Don’t give in,” Hades growled, sounding more like my dog than the man currently at my side. “I will take you to the underworld if I must but now is not your time to die, Reaper.”
“How about…ugh…two minutes from now?” I wasn’t even certain I could last that long.
“Mariposa and her men are currently alive.” The god on my porch now had a small frown on his face, his brows knitting together.
“That’s all you can fucking tell me?” Sweat poured off my face, hitting the dirt in front of me, the dark spots like rain. I inched closer to the cabin and it feltsogood, but not enough. My pain level went down from ten to 9.8.Maybe if I just stayed close enough without actually going inside…
“I must go.” Hades clapped a solid hand down on my shoulder, and I swore the motion drew me a few inches back. “Don’t go into that cabin under any circumstances, Reaper.”
“Wait, what?” I took a long, agonized look up at him, too consumed with pain to figure out what he was saying. “Where are you going?”
“We’ll see each other again,” he said ominously. “But I must focus my energy somewhere else at the moment. Hopefully, it will also help ease your suffering.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
But he was gone in the next moment, and I was talking to an empty space. Looking ahead of me, the strange god was still frowning, his fingers moving more rapidly than before.
“Who are you again?” I asked, desperate to focus on anything but the agony riding me.
