Page 52 of All Hallows Trick

“It’s not as easy as that, Cat. I wish it was but…I don’t even knowhowto remove it. And if it can be done, there will be risks. Not to mention…”

I turned, crawling into his lap and holding him with bruise-tight fingers. The scent of him surrounded me, snow-wreathed violets filling my lungs. Every time I breathed him in, there was a little voice in the back of my mind asking if it would be the last time. I cupped his face in my hands, fingers tracing his features, memorising the sensation of his warm skin against my fingertips.

I paused at the curl of dark ink above his collar, tentatively tracing the line. “This is new.”

Unlike Tor’s tattoos which appeared on his body by death magic, telling the story of his torment and that of others around him, Misery’s ink was intentional and done by hand. His hand.

“Show me,” I asked softly, curling my fingers in the collar of his shirt. He’d been wearing more casual clothes lately, loose white T-shirts with jeans or sweats, like he didn’t have the energy left to micromanage every last detail of his appearance like he used to. I’d noticed it but not pointed it out because it hurt. There were other things too, like his hair was tied back every day and not as glossy as before, he barely ate when he used to indulge in sweets daily, his posture had slumped, and he seemed… tired. All the time.

“I needed it marked on me like the others,” he admitted in a hoarse voice, not stopping me as I gently pulled his collar away from his skin. I recognised it instantly. I’d had dreams of that knife, had been haunted by it since the night I saw it drive into my best friend’s heart. “Like my other crimes.”

“It wasn’t—”

“My fault, I know,” Miz cut me off, his voice gentle. He wound a lock of my hair around his finger, his expression contemplative and miserable. “But I still killed him, and I needed it marked on me. It’s a story of my life, Cat, both good and bad. I won’t forget what I did to him. What I could doagainif my magic is unbound.”

My heart hurt. So that was why he resisted the idea. “I don’t want to lose you, Miz. I can’t—don’t make me live without you. Don’t.”

My eyes stung fiercer as he pulled me into his arms, my head resting on his shoulder, his scent a reassuring mist all around me. I’d never get enough of this, of him. Even just the thought of losing him made me flinch, a weight crushing my chest.

“I won’t,” he promised solemnly. But I didn’t think he could promise that. All he could really do was hold me and give me the time he had now, in this moment, so that’s what he did, for long, long minutes.

I didn’t know how to word the feeling in my heart, so I didn’t try. The kiss started slow and indulgent. It was rare to have time alone, and I loved when Death and Tor were with us, especially the four of us tangled up in bed at night, but there was something special about one-on-one time. I was going to take full advantage of it.

I kissed him until we were both breathless, and it was still a little baffling to make a death god breathless, but Miz panted under me, his eyes glossy and deep with affection, his lips parted.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I groaned, and captured his lips in another kiss, deeper but just as unhurried, my fingers sliding down his chest. “No,” I protested when his hands began exploring me, too. “You’re still weak.”

“That’s not going to stop me fucking you, Cat.”

“Yes, it is,” I argued, brushing my lips over his, pushing aside my panic for the moment and just letting the warmth and love of him wrap around me. Every moment could be his last, but I didn’t think about that either, even if I wanted to take advantage of every second we spent together. These seconds were precious, finite.

“I’m perfectly capable of—” he began, that stubborn look I loved so much lifting his chin and pursing his mouth. I slid off his lap and onto the floor, stroking my hands over his knees, already thinking about watching that expression melt off his face.

“Let me take care of you,” I murmured, gliding my hands a little higher.

“Cat—”

“Please,” I asked, looking up at him through my lashes.

Miz’s groan was one of surrender, and brought a smile to my face. “You,” he said, “are dangerous.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I demurred, hooking my fingers in the waistband of his dark sweats and pulling them down enough that I could wrap my hand around his cock.

His head fell back at the first stroke, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes fell shut, that stubborn look nowhere to be found. He reached for me when I kissed my way down his length, feeling him harden under my lips. His fingers landed on my arm before travelling up to my shoulder and wrapping strands of hair around his hand with a neediness that made me smile. I suctioned my mouth around the ridge of his cock and slid up and down, just for the ragged exhalation it coaxed from him.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he moaned softly when I let my tongue drag up his cock too, repeating the motion on the other side. “I love it when you—”

Apparently sucking him into my mouth and running my tongue along the slit was enough to rob him of the power of speech. Good to know. I flattened my tongue to the underside of his cock as I slid up and down, slowly enough that it would break his composure. The taste of him was an addictive tang, and I didn’t even try to hold back my groan of satisfaction when he jerked inside my mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed, fingers tightening in my hair.

Just to torture him, I moved even slower, swirling my tongue around his tip before I swallowed him back down, hollowing my cheeks for the next suck.

“Cat,”he blurted, a delicious catch in his voice.

“Hmm?” I asked without pulling my mouth off him.

“Shit.”

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