Page 120 of A Kiss From Death
I quickly stuff the book back under the floor, shoving the boards back down for a later date, and rush out of the room like my feet are on fire. My dress swooshes aggressively as if the shadows are agitated at me, or maybe they are just missing their daddy.
Collecting the moving abundance of material in each fist, I rush down the last hallway into my room just in time to catch my breath and fix my rogue frizzy curls poking out from under my veil from running so fast.
Just as I’m satisfied with the woman staring back at me in the mirror, I hear a steady three knocks on the other side of my door, and my heart flutters with anticipation. Striding over to my door, I take one deep, steadying breath and swing it open, just for all the air to whoosh out of my lungs in less than a second.
I consciously try to hold my jaw firmly shut from the devastatingly handsome man standing opposite me. Hade is dressed to the nines in an immaculate white suit, the opposite of me in every way. His usual all black getup is gone to the wind, and frankly, he’s never looked better.
Don’t get me wrong, his fighting uniform does things to me no sane woman could survive, but seeing him in a simple, bright white suit paired with accents of black has me on the verge of a real life heart attack. His dark eye swirls with malice while his light eye seems to brighten when paired with the suit, and I cannot take my eyes off him.
Gulping slowly, he looks me over from head to toe at an excruciatingly slow pace that has my pulse hammering in my neck. “My gods, Nyxi.” He drops to his knees in front of me, my eyes about to bulge out of my goddamn head.
This man, this beast, this powerful killing machine, is on his knees before me as if I am his sole godto worship.
“You are magnificent,dream,” he whispers to himself.
I try to reach forward, attempting to pull him back to his feet, but he only snatches my hand and places the softest kiss on my skin. “I’m exactly where I belong, worshiping at the altar of the goddess who has blessed me with viewing privileges of the rarest piece of art in all of Lunaria.Fuck that,in the entire universe. I would pray at your feet for the rest of my days if it meant I never had to take my eyes off you.”
I think I might just die right here and now, because nothing could ever top the high I am riding, and I’m afraid nothing ever will.
The ballroom is decorated extravagantly, expensive decor dripping from every inch. It’s bright and fresh, white and silver painted throughout. It seems the Empress has gone for a sky theme in homage to Lunaria.
Guests mingle, packed from wall to wall for the blessing that will commence shortly. They chat, drink, and dance with the anticipation of what power will be imparted to me by the Empress, and I won’t lie—that is exactly what has taken occupancy in my head as well.
Hade gracefully maneuvers us into the ballroom and through the boisterous crowd, leading me with my arm linked through his. A waiter walks by with a tray of drinks, and he snatches two off before thanking the man.
“For the nerves, my lady.” He hands me one of the glass flutes, which looks to have champagne in it. I can’t help the faint, anxious blush creeping up my cheeks.
“Such a gentleman,” I tease.
“Only for you,” he hums.
I eagerly lift the glass to my lips, downing one large gulp that bubbles down my throat, drowning a sliver of my nerves with it. I take a second sip for good measure, which makes Hade lift a quizzical eyebrow.
“Positively parched.” I throw the words over my shoulder as I take the lead, dragging him towards the dance floor. He moves with me seamlessly, and I think at this point, he would let me drag him all the way to the edge of Lunaria without a single fuss.
I turn to face him and crash into his large chest pressed close behind me. Tipping my chin up with his finger, he smiles down at me. “Dance with me,dream.”
We each finish off the last of our drinks and abandon them on a nearby table. Gripping my hand softly, he drags me to the center of the dance floor. This side of Hade is dizzying in the best way possible. Every inch of this hard man has slowly softened into a puddle of malleable mush each time he’s in my vicinity. I’m not sure if it’s from almost witnessing me die on multiple occasions, or if he’s slowly learning to drop his walls around me. Either way, as long as he keeps showing me these softer sides, I’m content.
Pulling me close, we sway to the slow music, couples moving in tandem to the beat. His body heat seeps into me, a warm, unmoving wall to latch myself to.
“Last time I was here, I was in another man’s arms,” I tease, breaking the silence.
Leaning down, he growls into my hair, “Don’t fucking remind me. And never speak of another man while you’re in my arms,nightmare.”
My breath hitches. “I thought you were done with that little nickname?”
“I thought you were done being a brat, but it seems we’re both sorely mistaken.”
“Brute,” I mumble playfully under my breath.
He draws our bodies closer. “Yourbrute.”
Both of our shocked gazes collide with his outright admission. He’s never said something like that so openly before, or labeled what this is between us. So far, we have been clinging to each other as a way to survive each round of the Crucible. Now that’s all over, what does this mean between us?
He searches my eyes—for what, I don’t know. Maybe to see if I’m scared, or repulsed, or if I’m about to run and flee after practically handing me a sliver of his heart, but if anything, it only pushes me closer to him.
Slowly, moving up on the tips of my toes, I plant a soft, innocent kiss to his lips to smooth over the emotions taking war over his worried gaze. It seems to do the trick as a slow, long breath fans over me from his stunned lips.
