Page 49 of Touch of Death
Eros snorts but then sighs, and I peek out to watch him bend to reach for the sheet, wrapping it around his lower half. Then his eyes suddenly lift to meet mine, making my stomach twist as if he’s looked straight into me. It unnerves me that, despite him appearing blind, he always seems to know where to find me.
He gives me a half-grin as if he’s fully aware of the effect he’s had on me, even if it was only momentary.
“The mortal does not seem to mind,” Eros says. “Perhaps it is you cannot handle a little competition. In fact, judging from her reaction, perhaps she will even come to brave a taste before too long. I am sure I have plenty to offer her in the ways of pleasure.”
Death tenses at this, his arms tightening slightly around me, but he doesn’t respond. Choosing, instead, to starve Eros’ ego by remaining silent. His focus returns to me as he searches my face, a softness to his eyes now that he’s no longer glaring at a naked god.
“Are you sure that you are all right?” he asks, his voice gentle but edged with something sharp. “I would behappyto put Eros in his place if needed.”
“I am,” I say, shivering against the chill of his body. “I was just a little embarrassed, but I am fine otherwise. Truly.”
“Very well.”
I doubt Death would appreciate me going into details about my feelings anyway. Eros is the first man I’ve seen completely naked, and try as I might, the shock of it has burned an image in my mind. That and the surprise of finding two men in bed with me.
In truth, I would much rather just forget the last few minutes in their entirety. Well,almostin their entirety. I can’t deny how my heart had leapt at waking to find Death so close, especially when he has always done his best to maintain certain boundaries between us.
“So, what are my lessons for the day?” I ask. “When do we start?”
“Start?” Eros says with a laugh. “We have already begun, have we not?”
I glance up at Death in confusion before turning to watch as Eros strolls leisurely across the room. It’s a relief to have him gone from the edge of the bed, and I finally feel at ease to let my gaze wander around the room as he disappears into his closet.
“What do you mean by that?” Death asks, obviously frustrated when Eros doesn’t offer further explanation.
Eros snorts, his soft chuckle preceding him as he steps out of the closet, now dressed in flowing white pants and a loose white shirt that hangs open down the center of his chest. I wait, more than a little impatiently, for him to answer.
“Is it not obvious?” he finally says when he glances our way.
Death lets out a low hum of irritation, but Eros’ still doesn’t relent. If anything, his grin widens as he walks back toward the bed.
“Out with it, Eros,” Death says, his shadows curling up in frustration.
“Look,” the pale god says, gesturing toward us, “in a matter of hours—and while I was sleeping, nonetheless, I might add—I have already managed to drive you straight into one another’s arms. Now, just imagine what I could do with a few days’ time.”
His reminds me that I’m still nestled against Death’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around me as I all but cling to him. Frost seeps from his body into mine, but I savor the chill of him being so close.
I blush, wishing Eros hadn’t drawn attention to it, as I gently pull away from Death. He allows me to slip out of his arms, and I get out of bed as he sets about readjusting his clothes.
I cross my arms over my chest as the silk clings to me, hating the way it feels as though we’ve just been caught doing something shameful. Eros seems to agree, clicking his tongue in disapproval of our reaction.
“There will be no more of that,” he says. “If you want my help, you are to respect the ways of my court from now on. Is that understood?”
“Which ones?” I ask before Death can refuse.
Eros’ grin returns at my question.
“First and foremost,” he says, “the manipulation of desire. You must learn to lean into it, to harness it, to use it in your favor. You must find ways to satiate it before it goes unchecked for too long.”
“Why?”
“Simple, my dear mortal,” Eros says. “Desire smolders, it can be contained with care, but once it gives over to lust … Lust is a raging fire with a will of its own. A will that even I cannot control if the temptation grows too strong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Desire is an art. A dance of give and take. Give too much or too little, and all that remains is carnal need.”
There’s a warning in his voice as he glances between us, and I force myself to meet his gaze, reminding myself that he can’t actually see me. His eyes just have an uncanny ability to pierce straight into the depths of my being. That’s all.
