Page 12 of A Waltz with Lord Death
His shoulders drooped even more. He still didn’t open his eyes, but rather hid his face in his large palm. This man…Death…he was grieving. How could someone like him feel grief?
Curiosity won over her fear of the coming plague, a plague she had yet to see with her own eyes. She was safe for now. She stepped over Death’s legs and joined him on the stairs, two steps away. The cold stone wall seeped through her clothing as she sat opposite him, her legs taking up the entire stair in front of her.
“Tell me… How did you become Lord Death?”
At her question, his head snapped up, which allowed her to see the red of fatigue in his bloodshot eyes. Despite his haggard expression, his handsome features sent a jolt of nervous excitement crackling through her stomach. “Do you really want to know? The only other people who knew were Life and Time, and even she couldn’t stomach the truth.”
She… Time is a she…
Surprise lifted her eyebrows at the revelation. The world he lived in was completely foreign to her. “I would like to know. Tell me everything.”
He blew out a long breath, his gaze far away as he tucked one leg closer to himself and rested his elbow on his knee. “I was human once like you. A hunter. A great hunter. I fought beasts of every shape and size, bringing home their skins as trophies. I had my eye on the chief’s daughter, aspiring to become the chief one day myself.”
A dark cloud of resentment spread across his eyes. “It was customary for a female in my village to give a task to a suitor to prove he was worthy of her. She could have sent me to fetch her favorite flower or wrestle a pig. But no. Jesmond sent me to kill a bear.”
Her eyes widened, and she forced air into her lungs when she realized she had been holding her breath. “What happened?”
“I was no match for the creature. I got mauled. Wounds that should have killed me festered and bled. I suffered shakes and tremors for several weeks, the excruciating pain inescapable. My body bled dry. I couldn’t move. I suffered a cold so great that I felt as if I were trapped in a block of ice. I begged for death.
“But Death was dead much like Life is now. When Life came for me, I was at the point that I was willing to do anything, give anything, to end my suffering. He turned me into Death.”
Horror of his story wrapped around her heart and squeezed like festering vines blocking out the sunlight. She couldn’t imagine how much pain he must have been in. His words several months ago came to the forefront of her mind.
Death can be a mercy.
No one in the world knew it better than he did.
She met his gaze across the small space that separated them. The same crackle of excitement shot through her, but it quickly transitioned into a warmth. Death was terrifying, yes. But she couldn’t find herself to fear him in his vulnerability. He had come toherfor whatever reason in his grief. Despite his begging for her kiss to turn her into Life during their last encounter, he had not asked this time.
Thoughts of Justine entered her mind, of Margery. One woman had lost her baby because Life was dead. Her heart could not bear it if the other lost hers as well. But if she could help others not suffer as Death had, as Margery had, then she knew this was something she must do.
The warmth compelled her to lean closer, never breaking eye contact as she tentatively touched his bare hand. His breath hitched, and he jerked it away, only for his eyebrows to furrow as he stared down at her hand. She tried again, slower this time.
He didn’t move away, though his body turned rigid when she threaded her fingers through his. A powerful burn moved up her arm. A thread of darkness weaved through her, seeking out the light. But the dark shadows only intertwined with the light rather than snuffing it out altogether. The shadows were playful, full of hope.
Death’s eyes smoldered with darkness in response, but he remained still. Watching. Waiting.
Nervousness attacked her stomach, contorting it in all directions. For what was about to happen. For touching such a powerful, exciting man. She hardly comprehended her own movements as she slid onto Death’s lap while continuing to hold tight to his hand. A surprising fondness rose within her as she gazed into his eyes. A kiss could be quick and unfeeling, but she wanted it to last. She wanted to feel every fiber of his soul weave with hers.
She lightly touched the stubble on his face with her other hand, the rough texture coarse against her fingers. The darkness burned hotter within her, scorching. She released an involuntary gasp and flinched away.
“Sorry,” he murmured, and the heat lessened within her core.
Not trusting her own voice, she lifted her hand to try again. She cupped his jaw, and his darkness pulsed within her at the contact. It didn’t burn this time, but it lay in wait like waves lapping against a shoreline. His fingers grazed her waist, but still he waited.
“Will this hurt?” she whispered. Fear settled in her stomach, but she still wanted to do this. For Justine. For others like her.
“No.” He shook his head, his fingers tightening on her waist. “It will feel strange. Unfamiliar. Intense.”
Her fingers moved from his jaw to the nape of his neck. The dark brown strands tickled her skin, and she obliged their beckoning, twirling his hair around her finger. Slowly, she leaned closer, holding her breath in anticipation of otherworldly power. He closed his eyes, and her lids lowered in response. But before their lips met, the door burst open at the other end of the hallway.
She jerked away and leaped to her feet. Her heart hammered and threatened to jump right out of her ribcage. A servant, Michell, stormed toward her, fury painted on his face. She backed toward the wall and attempted to flee, but she wasn’t fast enough before he clasped onto her wrist and tugged her to him.
Fear encompassed her as she glanced toward Death, who stood with rage in his eyes. But he did nothing. Said nothing. Michell couldn’t see him.
“You told me gambling my money would pay off,” Michell spat in her face. His grip tightened around her wrist, effectively cutting off the blood flow. “I lost everything! I haven’t a single penny to my name!”
A cry escaped her as he threw her to the ground. The rough stone scraped her hands. Her chest heaved against the fear racing through her veins.
