Page 23 of Thanatos' Craving

Crap on a cracker, why am I justifying this?

He stared down at me. At least I think he was he. He did have a cloak over his head.

The figure was astonishingly beautiful, he cast an enigmatic aura. Although his face remained hidden from me, the alluring air of mystery surrounding him alone captivated me. If this was what those romance novels referred to as “dark and mysterious,” then this guy knocked it out of the park.

Plus he had wings.

They were undeniably his most beautiful attribute. The feathers, as black as the night sky, were beautiful. They glistened and danced in the flickering candlelight, absorbing every trace of illumination in the room. My gaze traveled over their colossal size, extending beyond his head and elegantly sweeping across the floor.

It must be uncomfortable, but it matched his aesthetic.

Mysterious, dark, brooding, skeleton hands, and probably a skull for a face. Yet I’m not scared at all.

And I didn't feel scared when I thought he was going to take me to hell. I had given up then, though, I was literally dying in an alley. The moment I was stabbed, all the fear dissipated. A dark angel kneeling beside me was just the cherry on top.

Yet still, I’m healed, and I have no fear of him now.

Weird.

His feathers shuffled which brings random questions to my mind.

I wonder if he molts.

He tilted his head and brought one of his wings around to inspect it.

Oh crapola, did I say that out loud?

I wait for him to speak, to say something. He was the one who barged into the room, but he stood there and said nothing. His wings and his chest rose and fell with his breath as he settled and stared at me again. As time went on, we still sat in comfortable silence.

I don’t have the panic that he was going to hurt me. He could have already done that. I thought he was the one who’d brought me here to heal me. He could have done what he wanted to by now, discarded me, let me die, but nope, he’s just standing there. Watching.

Kinda getting awkward now, though.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the dark curtain opened again.

“Wonderful, she’s awake.” The feminine velvet voice broke the awkward tension.

One of the brightest people I had ever seen came into the room. When I mean bright, I mean literally glowing. Her skin was snow white, her hair equally so. Even the fitted suit she wore was white with hints of gold and powdered blue accents that screamed she is sophisticated. Her hair was slicked back, her glasses perched at the end of her nose as she meticulously stirred a small spoon in a teacup.

“I need you to drink this. It should fully close the wound from the inside within twenty-four hours,” she said.

She handed it to me like I was going to take it, and maybe I should because she looked like she knew what she’s doing. Yet, still I paused and gazed at her and the dark figure behind her I dubbed as the Grim Reaper.

Because he had a scythe when he came to me in the alley.He’s got the whole I’m the angel of death thing going on.

“No, he isn’t the Grim Reaper,” the woman mused.

I slapped my hand over my mouth.

I did not just say that out loud.

“You certainly did.” She smiled. “I guess we should do some introductions first. It is only fair.” She set the teacup down on the nightstand and patted down her suit. “I am Athena. Goddess of Wisdom and various other things,” she waved her hand dismissively. “And this is Thanatos, God of—”

The figure behind her cleared his throat.

Okay, so not Grim Reaper.

She is who, and he is what?

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