Page 44 of Touch of Death
But I do not want her apologies, nor her tears, I want the truth.
“Do not make me force the truth from you, woman,” I hiss.
“I … I was with him.”
“With who?” I demand, tightening my grip painfully on her waist.
“Death.”
I stare down at her for a long moment before pushing her away from me. She stumbles backward, falling to the ground, and I move to stand over her.
“See? That was not so hard, was it?” I crouch, reaching out to run my hand tenderly over her cheek, brushing away the tears. “I remember a time when we were still in love. A time when you would not dare betray me.”
“I have not betrayed you,” Persephone says, looking up at me through her lashes.
“Then, prove it,” I say, leaning in to whisper against her ear. “Prove you still have love for me. Prove that there may still be a chance for us, despite the many ways we have wronged each other.”
“How?”
I pull back to give her a soft kiss on the lips before rising to help her to her feet.
“By telling me everything you learned today. Then, perhaps, I will find it in my heart to forgive you.”
20
Eros
The moment I know Death and the mortal girl should be nearly back to my bedroom, I order everyone else to leave.
A ripple of laughter rolls through the crowd at this, setting my blood to boil.
“Out, get out before I have the lot of you writhing in pain instead of pleasure,” I roar, rising to my feet in rage when they do not immediately obey.
As soon as they realize I am not joking, the space falls silent as my guests hurry to obey. I pace the empty gardens, my thoughts crashing and spinning about uselessly in my head.
Tonight, I find no joy in their presence, no satisfaction from their pleasure.
Instead, I only find disgust and self-loathing.
Not when I need to think.
Not when my mind is so fully consumed withher.
And for that, I require peace and quiet.
Death had asked for my plan. I let out a snort.
Plan? I have no plan. I was a fool to think I ever had one.
It is starting to make sense now why Death has such a hunger for the girl. Why he burns so bright in his possessiveness of her … why he has an overwhelmingly endless desire to make her his.
And his alone.
She is everything that he is not.
Everything that we are not but wish to be.
She is life. Innocence. Hope ...
