Page 117 of A Kiss From Death
“Like a steady hum beneath your skin, a pool of untapped potential at the tips of your fingers, ready to use and shape as you please. It’s overwhelming and can corrupt someone if they are overtaken.” Thinking to himself, he continues, “To me, it’s always felt like a weapon, like I’m the definition of death, which I guess I am. Others who have lesser magic say it feels freeing, like floating on a cloud, but I’ve never experienced that side of magic. It takes everything in me to control the power threatening to escape and destroy. It is why I always must stay in control. If I let one ounce slip between my fingers, I could corrupt everything in my path.”
“You are no weapon to me. You are light. You are healing.”
He searches my face desperately for any deception, but he won’t find any. He means every sense of the word to me and has shown me what it’s like to live again, to see beyond the dark veil clouding my vision, opening my eyes to all the light around me.
Reaching forward, he dusts his knuckles gently across my cheek. “Do you think you got your freckles from your mom or dad? Or maybe the gods blessed you with their touch, each handplacing their mark upon your porcelain skin.” He hums to himself happily.
Did he just compliment me? This is uncharted territory, and I don’t know how to respond. I open my mouth, and he smirks at my malfunction, chuckling to himself.
“Did I leave you speechless,dream?”
“No,” I rush out. “I’m still recovering, is all.” Attempting to shove the attention on him, I ask, “Why does it look like you’re in the same clothes as the last time I saw you?”
“Because they are. I haven’t left your side since the Crucible.”
I recoil. “But that was a week ago.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“You mean to tell me you sat in that chair by my side for seven days straight?” I look at him like he’s gone mad.
“No. I also held your hand for most of it and ate once when my body protested.”
That’s it—he’s definitely gone mad on me. No one in their right mind would waste seven days of their life sitting in a chair, especially for someone like me.
Reading me like a book, he grunts. “Stop that.”
“What?”
“Acting as if you are not worthy of my time or attention. You were hurt badly, and I was there to make sure air remained in your lungs. End of story.”
Is that why his head was on my chest? Was he listening to make sure I was still breathing? That is… Well, that is… What the fuck do I even say back to that? Thanks for making sure there was sufficient air in my lungs for the last seven days, even though it meant sleeping in a chair and not washing or eating property? It’s too much.
Once again, he reads the emotions flitting across my face, as if we share the same head. “I am right where Iwantedto be, Nyxi. Lunaria could be crumbling, falling from the damn sky, and I stillwouldn’t have left your side. Nothing could have pried me from your healing body until I knew you were okay.” I go to protest, but he halts me with a single finger to my lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for someone like you.”
“You’ve waited for damaged goods?” I whisper around his finger.
“More likeperfection. In every sense of the word. I could not find a better entity to represent the word. You areperfectionand nothing less.”
I drag air into my lungs, trying to remind myself how to breathe. This softer side of Hade is a lot, but it’s also healing parts of me that have been dark for far too long. I think back to my conversation with Theo and the promises I made him.
Fight and live. Truly live in every sense of the word.
He made me promise to use this life I have to be happy, to continue without him by my side but always in my heart. To live and to love again. To be free. All of this has been for him. Once I finish what I came here to do, I will fulfill my promise.
I will continue to live in every sense of the word. For him, but also for myself.
“Thank you,” is all I can bring myself to respond with, because how does one respond to a man serving compliments like that on a silver platter, as if I personally hung Lunaria in the sky for him? “Now that you’ve confirmed there is indeed air in my lungs, maybe you could go wash up. You positivelystink.” I’m only playing with him, because this man could walk out of battle and still smell like a smokey dream, but I also know he needs to take care of himself after dedicating a week to taking care of me.
That deep chuckle I love so much washes over my skin as he pulls the back of my hand up to his lips. “I’m glad to see you’re back to your annoying, attitude-filled self.”
The door swings open at the same time Hade moves to stand. “I still don’t understand why you placed her here and not herroom. It’s like you purposely did it to make me walk a million extra steps to see her.”
Stretching my neck, I peer behind Hade’s tall frame and collide with a stunned pair of forest green eyes. Des is dressed in a blush pink dress with red hearts stitched into the fabric that I’m sure she sewed herself. She paired it with a black leather corset, red hearts clipped in her light gray locks.
“Always and tomorrow,” she gasps between hysterical sobs. She breaks into a full sprint and tackles me in bed. My muscles groan on impact, still sore from being mended.
“Shit, sorry. Are you hurt?” Turning as if I’m not capable of answering myself, she asks Hade, “Is she okay?”
