Page 127 of Death is My Ride or Die

They groaned but vocalized their agreement in unison. Each reaper cleaned up their mess and vanished, while Death stormed to his coat closet and threw it open. Sure enough, the little man with glasses came ambling out.

“My-my lord!” Glenn stuttered, and then he pushed his glasses up. “Ms. Williams! So nice to see you together on this . . . unpleasant night.”

Death stabbed his finger toward the front door. “Goodbye, Glenn.”

Glenn scrambled to collect himself.“Goodbyemylord!”He dove through the front door as if it were a hologram and evaporated.

“I like Glenn,” I decided. “He’s funny and awkward.”

Death lifted his lip in disgust. “He’s a disease.”

“Your Highness,” Leo called from the living room. “May I ask who will be protecting the girl tomorrow while we meet Ahrimad?”

“Lucifer will be.”

I looked up at Death, having hoped he’d changed his mind on leaving me behind.

“I’m ready,” I insisted. “I’m in this fight too.” When Death didn’t budge and kept his eyes forward, I looked pleadingly at Leo.

“Perhaps she has a point, my lord,” Leo said. “It may be safer for her to stay in plain sight. I can accompany her if you wish.”

I looked up at Death again, thinking that was a decent plan.

“No,” Death said. And that was that. “You’re dismissed.”

Leo stood there a moment longer before nodding once. “As you command, my lord.” He’d started to turn when he caught my eye and nodded. “Good night.”

“Good night . . . ”

Once Leo was gone, Death gave me a seething look before stalking away. Frowning, I trailed after him. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You put yourself in the middle of my discussion with my subordinate. Don’t do it again.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t do it again,” he repeated, pivoting to face me. “Or you will be punished.”

“Wow. Here come your outdated villainous torture tactics, right?”

“Who said it’d be that kind of torture?” The sinister flicker of desire in his green eyes sent chills down my spine. “Maybe I’ll take it out on your soft thighs.”

“If you haven’t gotten the memo by now, everyone is sick and tired of your ‘I lost my scythe boo-hoo’ moods. You’re mad because I agreed with Leo, and you know damn well you’re embarking on a suicide mission. Get over yourself and go take a shower; you smell like the undead.”

His face was priceless. Of course, he didn’t smell bad, he never did—which was beyond me—but he didn’t have to know that. I brushed past him, feeling pleased with myself, and was heading down the hallway to my room when Death manifested in front of me, blocking my way. His arms were spread, his hands braced on either side of the hallway, drawing attention to his upper body and outrageous abs. And he knew it.

“Only if you take a shower with me.”

The back of my neck prickled. I tried to keep my utter disbelief hidden, but I knew I was failing.

“My shower is much more efficient than yours,” Death explained with feigned concern, stretching his hands higher on either side of the hallway to stretch out his abs. “We’d be saving a ton of water.”

All I could do was stare at him, dumbfounded that we were even having this conversation.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his grin widening. “Afraid of what will happen after you see me all wet and sudsy? A certainappendage, perhaps?”

“I’m not afraid of your dick,” I snapped.

“Whoa there, cupcake,” Death said, dropping his arms to stalk a slow circle around me. “Didn’t know you had it in you to speak so explicitly.”

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