Page 69 of A Kiss From Death
“Think,” he says from behind me, but it’s not mocking. He’s pushing me, wanting me to be able to defend myself and make calculated moves.
I gather my wits and do the only thing my brain can think of to get out of this sticky situation, holding true to my promise of drawing blood: I sink my teeth into his flesh. I draw blood from the arm strangling my neck. He lets out a grunt and softens his grip enough for me to slip out of his hold, ripping my arm from his grasp.
I drop low, spinning on my heels as I kick out my foot aimed for his ankles. It doesn’t knock him over, but it gets him just enough off center for me to pounce at his chest, wrapping my whole body around him as we crash to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
When the dust we kicked up settles, I find myself on top of Hade, straddling his oversized body, my legs barely big enough towrap around his chiseled torso. He looks up at me with a soft smile on his face, looking lost in a haze of…of lust, maybe? Except his gaze isn’t heated or suggestive. No, it’s full of awe, maybe pride. The thought makes me wonder if it’s not lust at all that I’m interpreting in his lethal eyes locked on mine.
I grow soft under his praiseful gaze, as if he’s melting me with his unwavering devotion of just looking at me. My cheeks heat, and the man I see under me is the man who carried me gently in his arms. Who woke up healers in the middle of the night to save me. Who washed my body and cleaned and braided my hair. I see the man who made my heart beat again.
In a blink of an eye, he spins us, wedging my body under his so I’m the one now pinned under his hard, and I meanveryhard, body. He squeezes his thick thighs on each of my sides, holding me in place. My chest rises harshly, pressing up against his body where it sits above me, drawing a soft, uncontrollable whimper from me. He grabs each of my wrists and pins them above my head, making sure I have no way of fighting him back. I have to blow my hair out of my face so I can see him clearly. When he’s looking at me like he sees me instead of some broken object, the thought of fighting him off becomes so foreign, I forget its meaning.
He shoves my wrists together, his giant hand wrapping around both now, engulfing them in his grip so he can use his other hand to play with his prey. He smirks down at me, and in that exact moment, every hair on my body stands at attention with excitement and a pinch of fear. My breathing picks up, the only sound, like a soft melody on repeat.
He bends in until his lips are barely pressed against the shell of my ear. “Looks like you got yourself in a terrible predicament,Nightmare,” he whispers, making my body sing to life. “How ever will you get yourself out of this one?” he taunts, and I can feel his smirk as his cheek brushes against mine, his stubble undoubtedlyleaving red marks across my flesh as he drags his face in front of mine again.
Batting my eyelashes, I lower my voice in a sultry tone. “Who said I’m not enjoying the predicament I’ve found myself in,Hade?”
Hunger flashes across his eyes, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. He’s a starved man, and I’m his prey pinned helpless beneath him. A deep rumble vibrates through his chest; I wiggle nervously beneath him. He’s one moment away from snapping, and I’m not sure either of us would survive the fallout if that were to happen.
The way he’s looking at me is making it terribly difficult to resist the wicked things running through my head. He’s staring at me with an intensity I have no doubt could level entire cities, but it’s also laced with slight hesitation, like he’s doing everything in his power to hold himself back. Something is hurting him, and I want to know what it is, why, ever since that night, he looks like he can’t take a full breath around me.
I can tell he’s slipping away, worry riddling his gaze. He’s building his walls back up right before my eyes, so I do the first thing that comes to mind to try and drag him back to me.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, sinking my teeth into it like a pillow. Slowly, I drag teeth across it seductively, and I watch his eyes zone in on my lip, tracking it intently the entire way. He closes his eyes, letting out a deep, throaty growl while squeezing my wrists in his calloused palm he still has pinned above my head. I yelp in surprise, sinking my teeth harder into my lip, drawing blood.
His eyes flash open and trail the single bead of blood slithering across my lip. Letting go of my wrists, he drags his thumb slowly across it, wiping the blood away. He goes to move, but I lean forward, sucking the tip of his thumb into my mouth until my cheeks hollow.
He lets out a choked breath and goes to lean down a fraction of an inch, but he halts when he feels the cold edge of my dagger pressed against the delicate flesh of his neck.
“What was that you said again?” I say sweetly, smiling up at him, leaning in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Never underestimate your opponent. Oh, and my personal favorite: find their weaknesses so you can exploit them.” I lick my lips methodically, the tip of my tongue barely lashing against his bottom lip from how close we are. He lets out a strangled, breathy moan, his eyes following my tongue. “Thanks for the tips,sir.”
I’m trying to keep my composure on the outside, but I’m one second away from losing it, saying to hell with this little game. I can see the way Hade is looking at me right now, and it’s the same look I know he sees within me.
Our breaths turn ragged, beating to the same drum as my hand turns pliant around the handle of my dagger pressed to his neck. Neither of us have blinked, both scared to make a single movement and shatter whatever is happening between us. I catch him staring at my lips like they are a temptation he’s no longer strong enough to fight. He inches slightly closer, his neck digging into my blade.
“Hade,” I whisper against his lips.
He looks defeated, like he’s okay with losing this war and throwing in his sword. There’s so much pain in his gaze, calling to mine in likeness. Growling to himself, he flies backwards through the air, propelled by his magic, until he’s a hefty distance away from me, leaving me in a panting mess of lust and confusion.
He strides over to Winston, who I notice has been here all along, standing on the edge of the Bubble, probably watching this entire catastrophe unfold. He whispers something in his ear, and Winston nods back in understanding. Then, Hade disappears altogether, like he was never just pressed on top of my body, about to do Empress knows what to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fisting my hands until I wince. So much for training. If anything, all I got out of today was an even more messed up head and some cardio with how fast my heart was beating. I guess if I were him, I wouldn’t want the responsibility of trying to wrap two hands around a crumbling heart, too difficult to grasp and keep whole.
The task wasdoomedfrom the start.
My nerves are shot, the number of us left in the Crucible dwindling to a staggering five. One would think making it this far should reassure me, but with only two more rounds, the chances of myself being the last one standing seems daunting.
I’m standing back in the Bubble next to Rayah and our remaining competitors while we wait for the Empress to announce the next game. I got next to no sleep last night, too hyped up on adrenaline and nerves while trying to think about what today’s trial might entail or skills it will test. A million possibilities ran through my mind as I pondered previous Crucibles. I know, at some point, alliances will be tested, so maybe today’s game will play into that. I’m not exactly sure how that will work, since we are down an extra competitor than we should be, but I wouldn’t put it past the Empress to carry on as if nothing changed.
I’m not blind to the whispers of my competitors asking where Aeron is, gossiping things like, “I bet he’s warming the Empress’bed and slept in,” or “Maybe his big mouth finally got the best of him.” I, too, wonder where Aeron is, but for a very different reason.
A commotion draws my attention to the entrance of the Bubble, the tension palpable as the air shifts around us. The Empress strides in wearing a glimmering, black, floor-length dress with a sweetheart neckline, mimicking the mood around us.
She gracefully saunters through the sand to stand before us, a stoic look plastered on her face. She turns to look back at the entrance, waving her arm. “Bring him in.”
My stomach drops like an anchor, souring on the spot. My palms turn sticky, and I feel slightly light headed all the sudden. If the “him” she’s referring to is the person I was hoping to never see again, then I think my breakfast might make a reappearance. My body starts to tremble, and Ray must notice, because she slides her hand into mine without looking over at me, making sure not to create a scene. It instantly calms my nerves, centering me. I’m not alone, and hecan’thurt me anymore.
I hear stomping in the sand to my right and slowly drag my eyes over until they land ondeathhimself. The Cardinal marches in like he’s taking off to the front lines for battle, his face set with deep lines from scowling so hard. Floating behind him like a shadow is… No that can’t be right. Can it?
