Page 42 of Princess of Death

My hand gripped his wrist, and I briefly closed my eyes. “I can end this now if I wish?” I’d fulfilled my obligation, bedded him once, and now I could terminate this arrangement and never see him again.

He said nothing, just stared at me with a silent command.

I could wipe my hands clean and walk away. I could carry on with my life and never tell my father what had transpired. Butonce I dismissed Wrath from my life, he would be gone forever…and that brought me such an intense wave of sadness.

“Yes.” Wrath continued to stare at me. “But you won’t.”

I spent the next few days alone.

I took my sailboat out on the water and fished for my dinner. I stayed close to the cliffs and in sight of other sailboats. The water was flat and calm, the sunlight dancing on the surface, the air crisp from the chill of the morning. When I returned home, I prepared the fish with fresh lemon and rice and had dinner alone with my favorite bottle of white wine.

I used to enjoy being alone, but now I was used to sharing space on a ship full of comrades where you barely had a moment to yourself to think. Whenever I thought of them, I remembered they were dead, and that stung every time.

I set my dishes in the sink to worry about another time, and when I turned around, I saw the behemoth of a man leaning against the counter in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes quiet and demanding. He was shirtless, like he had one thing on his mind. “Should I make all my nights free in case you stop by?”

“It would be preferable.” He pushed off the counter with his hips and came toward me, thick arms by his sides, his dark eyes formidable. I should be afraid of this god, this man who could still kill the living…indirectly. But I found myself at ease in his presence, other than the rush of heat that made me burn hotter than a lit pyre.

He cornered me into the counter, his hands moving to the edge on either side of me, boxing me in with nowhere to go—except farther into him.

My face was at his chest, and it suddenly felt humid and tropical, like I was on one of those white beaches I loved so much. My body felt an invisible pull, and my forehead rested against the center of his chest, the hardness underneath the warm flesh. My hands went to his hips, lightly touching the fabric of his trousers and then his warm skin just above it. His torso rippled from the muscle underneath the skin. I let my fingers explore as I stared at his chest and the valleys between his rows of abs.

“I feel your sadness.”

“I’m sad a lot these days.”

His hands left the counter and moved to my ass. He lifted me up and placed me on the counter, bringing our eyes almost level. “I see you look upon the horizon like you expect to see someone sail into your sight. I see you long for a life that’s different from your own.”

Whenever I sailed, I felt alive…and also alone. “You were watching me?”

“I watch you often.”

“Then why not reveal yourself to me?”

“Because I know it’s not the time,” he said. “Tell me of your sorrow.”

“It’s hard not to think of them whenever I’m on the water.” Hard not to think about the fact that Davin would never sail again. That so many good men were lost at sea because of a storm and awful men who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Wrath didn’t apologize or fill the silence with empty words. He just continued to stare at me.

“I know I need to move past it and be grateful I’m alive?—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” he said simply. “Everyone grieves differently. Some people grieve for a time. And some people grieve for always.”

I looked into the eyes of the King of the Dead and inexplicably felt safe. Warm like I was in bed. Comfortable like I’d known him all my life, when I really didn’t know him at all. “You speak of grief like you know it well.”

He stared at me for a while, his head slightly cocked as he absorbed my words. “I do.”

“Who have you lost?” I asked quietly, feeling a twinge of pain for a man who remained mysterious.

“Everyone.”

“You’re the King of the Dead?—”

“But I haven’t always been so.”

I wanted to know more about his story, but based on his short replies, I knew he didn’t want to give answers. He gave me a window into his soul, but the curtains were drawn and the lights were low. “You said you know everything.”

“I do.”

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