Page 59 of Touch of Death
Death raises a gloved hand, reaching to brush away them from my cheeks, but I flinch away from his touch. He pulls back, and I use the opportunity to turn away from him, clutching the sheets tighter around me.
Death rises but is careful to keep distance between us, as though he can sense the way my heart is shattering over and over again. He seems unsure of what to do as he glances at me.
Then his eyes land on Eros, who watches uncertainly from across the room.
“This is your fault,” Death accuses him, taking a step toward him.
“Me,” Eros scoffs in disbelief. “What did I do?”
“You are trying to get between us, to divide us with your vulgar rules and questions.”
Eros tosses his head back to laugh at this, giving Death a chance to storm across the room. Eros’ eyes go wide as Death grabs the front of his shirt, hauling him out of the doorway and slamming him up against the wall, and a small gasp of surprise escapes me as I watch.
“Why?” Eros says, holding onto Death’s arm as he struggles to free himself. “Why would I do that? What reason do I have?”
“I see what you are doing, and I won’t stand for it. Not for another moment.”
“Again, give me one good reason,” Eros hisses.
“You mean to claim her for yourself and keep her soul trapped here with you.”
Silence meets Death’s accusation. I glance between the two of them in shock, frowning as I see the way Eros won’t meet our eyes.
Surely that can’t be true. I mean, Eros had made it obvious he didn’t mind taking certain liberties with me, but to actually desire me, let alone want to trap me here?
The way Eros’ body stiffens as Death presses him harder into the wall has me questioning everything.
“Yes, I do.” Eros admits, “I crave her with every fiber of my being. I want to make her mine, to know her touch, her body, her soul in every way. Can you honestly blame me for that? You may deny your feelings, but I will not. I am the God of Lust; after all, it is literally in my nature. But I was not trying to trap her here. I swear that on all the gods.”
His words only fuel Death’s temper as inky shadows begin to crash around him. The dark storm clouds from before returning as his grip tightens.
“I would end you here and now,” Death snarls, raising his free hand to his mouth to yank off his black glove.
I stare in shock for a split second, hardly daring to believe he actually means to end Eros’ life right before my eyes.
I can’t allow him to do that. I leap out of bed, running across the room before he can bring his hand down on Eros.
“No!” I shout, wrapping my hands around Death’s bicep.
It’s a miracle that he stills his hand just inches from Eros’ face as he turns to stare down at me, his eyes bottomless voids of fury behind his mask.
Tears still stain my cheeks as I carefully move around him, though I don’t spare Eros a glance as I squeeze between the two men.
To my surprise, Death doesn’t immediately back down this time, even as I put my hands against his chest.
“Please, spare him,” I plead, my voice strained. “Please, Death. For me.”
Just like that, he drops Eros and takes a step back from us. The shadows still swirl around him as he pulls himself up, towering over me as he shoots a glare at Eros. Then a softer look at me, one that’s laced with pain and something I can’t quite understand.
Without a word, he turns on his heel and storms from the room.
I watch the doors close behind him, unsure of what I should do now. Part of me wants to chase after him, but the other part of me wants to throw myself in bed and cry myself to sleep.
Except, I don’t trust Eros enough to do that, especially after what he just said.
Turning back, my gaze narrows on him.
“I suppose I should—”
