Page 101 of Love and Death
“Where is the mark?”
“What?”
“He is bonded to you, is he not? He could not have removed this from himself otherwise.”
My heart leaps into my chest as I suddenly have to wonder what this will mean for us. I hesitate a moment longer, fear gripping my throat as I struggle to answer.
“Yes,” I say, the word barely audible despite it tearing through my soul.
Death looks away for a second, staring off across the river as his hands fist tighter where he kneels. Turning his gaze back to me, he asks once more, “Where is the mark?”
“My neck.”
He reaches out with one hand to gently pull away the damp, wild hair stuck to my skin, and I have to look away as he finds it. His finger trails over it for a second before he pulls back, swallowing hard.
“Forgive me, Hazel.”
Rising, he pulls off his cloak to cover me before stepping over to the edge of the riverbank.
A weighty moment of silence follows as he looks out over the Styx, and then …
“Fuck!”
The word roars out of him like the crack of thunder far too close for comfort—the sound savage, half-disbelieving laugh, half-anguished plea—as his shadows pour out of him in furious raging waves.
He takes a deep breath, forcing his shadows to calmwith him before striding back over to kneel before me.
“I’m sorry.”
“What? No, little one,” Death hurries to stop me. “You have done nothing wrong. Though you make me crave violence in my desire to protect you, my fury is not—willneverbe directed at you.”
“Does the mark …” I start, but my mouth turns to ash, the question dying on my tongue.
“Ask what you need to know. Please, do not be afraid of me. I should not have lost my composure in front of you, even for a moment. It will not happen again.”
“I do not fear you, Sydian,” I try again. “I fear what your reaction means …what this mark means for us.”
“It means nothing,” he pushes through clenched teeth before correcting himself, “Itwillmean nothing, though not nearly soon enough. But I am afraid I must change our plans, Hazel.”
“Oh?”
He exhales deeply, his hands flexing at his sides, before saying, “I can no longer go alone. I must ask you to come with me.”
Dread pools in my stomach at the thought of returning, but it’s mixed with relief, knowing Death and I will not be parted.
“Then I will come.”
He sighs again and offers me his hand. Taking it, Death gently helps me to my feet as my torn clothes fall to the ground beneath his cloak.
“I cannot have you striding into the Underworld, markedandnaked,” he says with a small snort as I step forward and he notices the pile of fabric I’ve left behind.
“But I don’t have any—”
With a wave of his hand, I am unable to say more as Death’s shadows slip under the hem of the cloak to slide deliciously over my skin in waves softer than silk.
“You can return my cloak now.” He takes it from me as I move to shrug the heavy cloak from my shoulders, revealing what he’s done. I can’t help but gasp at the beauty of the living dress he’s crafted for me from his own shadows.
“You are perfection,” he says, and I feel his shadows tighten ever so slightly around my waist in response to his voice.
