Page 51 of Death is My Ride or Die

“Youshut your eyes,” Death hissed, “and you shot with afinger gun.”

I winced. “All right, that is pretty cringe. But it worked, didn’t it?”

I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel his stare as he returned to his spot behind me. “Try again.”

I hid my surprise as I got into position again.

He ended up coaching me for the next fifteen minutes with the same drill. Over and over again, I lifted my hand with the visualization he instructed of firing my light at the vase. And over and over again, nothing happened. It was embarrassing and frustrating, but for some reason, Death hadn’t left. No, he just kept pacing. Pacing back and forth like a panther.

“Focus,” Death snapped. “You’re distracted.”

By you.

Death strode into my line of vision and leaned over the dining room table. “Sinning on the mind, cupcake?” He tilted his head, and I could see the sly grin on his mouth. “Maybe your light isn’t what you want to explode.”

White sparks ignited my fingertips, and I yelped in surprise. Death pushed off the table, his hooded head aimed like a hawk at the light growing in my palm. My gaze flicked to the vase ahead, but I struggled to multitask holding the light and firing it at the same time.

“You’re thinking too much,” Death said. “Let the power come to you.”

The more force I put into it, the more it seemed to want to burn out, but I held on. Sweat dripped down my spine, and my teeth were clenched tight. “I don’t . . . have control.”

The air shifted, and suddenly Death’s breath fanned the back of my neck. “I could always take the lead,” he whispered in a low, sultry purr.

“Stop,” I seethed. “I’m going to . . . lose it.”

“I haven’t put it in yet.”

“Shut . . .up!”

“You’re all red and sweaty.”

His tongue touched my ear, and I flinched.

“You better cut it out!” I cried in a laughably high-pitched tone.

“Orwhat?” he growled, slipping back into exasperation as if the flirting tactic hadn’t gotten the reaction he’d wanted. “Finish the threat and show me what you’re made of.”

“If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?” I shouted, pivoting to jab his chest with each word. It felt like I’d jammed my finger into steel. “Sweet peaches in a pie . . . that’s a ton of muscle.”

Death looked down at his chest. Then he flicked my finger away like it was a piece of lint on his shirt. For a second, I thought he would reach for my neck and wring it for touching him. Instead, he raised his gloved hand and made a small motion. Shadow fired from his fingers into the vase, shattering it into a million pieces.

“My vase!” I hurried to the table, collecting the broken pieces into a sad pile. “I was being hypothetical!”

“Could have been you breaking it if you didn’t have the attention span of a goldfish.”

I whirled around to find him crossing his arms over his chest in a cocky manner. “Whoop-de-doo, you can break a vase. Can do you do card tricks too?”

Death dangled a pair of underwear from one gloved finger. “I can make your panties disappear.”

My mouth went slack as I looked down at my pants. Of course, the pair I’d put on were borderline granny panties. Mortified, I let out an inhuman noise and went to snatch them, but he extended his arm, dangling them over my head. He teased me a few times before tossing them in the air, where they vanished in a puff of smoke. “Oh, darn. Where on earth did they go?”

“You son of a . . . ” I shouted. “I ought to fry your stupid hooded face off with my—my—!”

“Aw, how adorable. She doesn’t have a name for it.” Death circled me in a slow, calculated way, and I followed his every move. He stopped and shoved up the sleeve of his sweatshirt to check the time on a high-end watch. “I’ll be back in three hours to train you.”

I blinked. “I passed your test?”

He held up a gloved finger. “One training session. One more chance to prove me wrong. That’s it.”

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