Page 64 of A Kiss From Death
I’m shocked, speechless, not accustomed to such depth and emotion coming from the hard man sitting at my back, who is handling me with such pristine care, like I’m his greatest treasure. I’m used to his playful banter, a man who’s rough around the edges with a mind and heart more heavily guarded than the Empress’ private chambers. That man, I know how to handle, but this man is uncharted territory. I think he feels the same way, but his bravery makes me want to hand him a raw piece of myself in return as a peace offering, a way of saying we are in this together, whatever that journey may be.
I hold his unblinking gaze and whisper softly between us, “And what do your eyes see when they look at me laid bare before you?”
He smiles, pride and yearning shining through like a bolt of lightning striking me right in my chest. “I see a raging fire that has weathered an entire life’s worth of storms but refuses to go out. I see the brightest rainbow that peeks out of a flurry of rain clouds,demanding to be seen. I see a soul screaming for a break from this unjust world, desperately wanting to find something to lay over its deep wound to pacify it. But above all, I see a darkness that calls to mine, something that stirs so deeply inside me, it has uprooted my destiny for the rest of eternity. I seeyou, Nyxi. The real, raw you, and it’s my favorite version.”
I heave a deep breath, caught in a trace of his admission, and it isn’t from just being almost stabbed to death. My skin is overheating, going flush right before his eyes. I’ve never felt so stripped bare, like he dove under my skin and rearranged everything I’ve ever known true.
“You see me?” is all I’m able to get out, my mind melting into a puddle.
He smiles deeply and unashamed, and it’s myundoing, a zap straight to my dying heart, bringing it to life once again. He sees me for who I am, and he’s not afraid. Instead, he welcomes my darkness with open arms.
“Iseeyou,” he responds in a breath, and I swear, I can hear his heartbeat over the ringing of my ears, his chest dipping with each deep breath. “And I alsoseeyour hair’s current state is a rat’s nest, so come here so I can wash it for you.” An unguarded laugh escapes me, and I go to refuse, but before I can get the words out, he cuts me off. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Rolling my eyes, I slowly lower myself back until my head rests above his lap. He looks down at me, satisfied, and then reaches over the side of the tub, grabbing something. He dips it below the water now growing cold, and then brings it up to my hairline, slowly pouring water from the cup in his hand down the back of my head, soaking my hair.
We fall into peaceful silence as he gently washes every stand of my long, unruly hair, laughing every now and then when his giant fingers get stuck in one of the knots. He’s patient, though, massaging my scalp with a feather light touch. It’s heaven and hell at thesame time, a peace uncommon to me, making my skin burn from the inside out. Because never in a million years would I predict this godly man would be sharing a bath with me, washing my hair and looking at me like I’m the air that sustains him.
Finishing with my hair, he scoots me forward and then drags his wet body from the tub, dripping water everywhere in the process. He turns to me, staring me straight in my soul, and I’m captivated.
“Stay right there,” he says sternly and then disappears into the conjoining room.
A few moments later, he returns wearing a fresh outfit that isn’t sopping wet. Gray cotton pants stretch over his massive thighs, pulling them tight. He’s paired them with a simple white cotton shirt that hugs his biceps. I spot a thick vein traveling down from the center, drawing my attention. He’s dressed casually for once, and I think this might be the most delicious I’ve ever seen him. I blame the dizzying thought on the lingering effects of the poison, for my own sanity.
Before I can even register what he’s doing, he wedges his arms under my body like I weigh nothing and lifts me from the tub, and I let out a small yelp in surprise. He chuckles in response, with a small, satisfied grunt he’s unable to control.
Smacking his arm, I playfully chastise him, “You treat me as if I’m broken. I can get myself out of a bath, you brute.”
He plops me softly on my feet and then wraps a warm, fuzzy towel around my shivering body. Wrapping one arm around my center, he draws me to his chest for support as he uses his other hand to carefully wring the excess water from my hair.
This man.
“Just because you are capable doesn’t mean you should. I could kill every person who resides inside the castle in the blink of an eye, but it doesn’t mean I should. So, in the kindest way possible, shut your mouth for once and let me take care of you.”
Rolling my eyes, I let him win just this once, too tired to put up a fight, reveling in the feeling of being taken care of.
Once he’s satisfied, he picks me up again, cradling me to his body and walking into the conjoining room. I look around, my breath hitching. Similar to the rest of the cattle, the room is bathed in black accents and furniture, but where everything else feels cold and lifeless, this room has character and exudes liveliness.
A bed fit for a king sits in the very center, the focus. It floats above the ground, being elevated by black fluffy clouds made of magic. The bed itself is bathed in black, but the headboard is regal, a golden vintage aesthetic. Placed right above the bed, secured to the ceiling, sits a gold, round-edged, rectangular Victorian mirror. A circular, oversized lounge chair sits in the corner next to a giant window that takes up a majority of the wall to its left. A painted canvas of an owl hangs on the adjoining wall just above the chair, bringing a smile to my face. Across from the chair on the other side of the bed sits a vintage cart storing bottles of liquor and two crystal glasses. Sitting next to it stands a golden bookshelf full of books that look weathered with love, spines cracked and pages wrinkled. It feels like home, and in my soul, I know it’s him encased in a room.
“We’re in your room,” I say, more a statement than a question.
He nods and plops me down on his bed that floats above the ground, making it bounce a tad from the force.
I quirk a brow at him. “I assume this is floating because of your magic?”
He smiles, looking proud of himself. “I can’t remember why, but one day, I wanted to test the limits of my magic, and it’s stayed this way ever since. It brings me peace, surrounded by my magic while I sleep.”
I smile, trying to imagine what it must feel like to have so much magic within my grasp at any moment. Is it all-consuming and painful, or does it feel like a second skin?
“I love it,” I say with a giggle as I cross my legs under me and test its bounciness, shoving all my weight down into my legs, feeling it dip slightly then float back up.
Hade walks over to an armoire I didn’t notice at first and pulls out what he wants. He sets down an oversized t-shirt on the bed next to me.
“You can wear this for tonight.” He sees the confusion in my eyes, so he answers before I can respond. “You will be sleeping in my bed so I can watch over you. I will take the chair in the corner, seeing as I don’t usually sleep much anyways.”
I go to open my mouth in protest, but he shoots me a warning glare, leaving no room for argument. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare back, but even I know, with the exhaustion trying to claim my body, it doesn’t hold a strong punch. He must notice this too, because he laughs at me as if I’m a child throwing a pathetic tantrum.
“Well, are you just going to stand there gawking at me all night, or are you going to give me some privacy to change?” I say with a sassy edge.
