Page 15 of A Waltz with Lord Death
What if his touch had made her sick? The sickness would only fester until it killed her without Life to lessen the effects of his power.
However, her skin looked to be the same, healthy tan. Her features still held beauty and not an ounce of illness, nor did her hair fall out or lose shape from its springy, bouncy curls.
She cracked her eyes open the slightest bit before closing them just as quickly. Thank the darkness. She was fine. He’d gotten worked up over nothing.
The nobleman carried her to her chambers and left with his eyebrows furrowed in worry. Death remained by a window in the hallway and watched as the darkness of night descended upon the land. A half-moon glistened brightly in the sky. Stars twinkled in and out of existence. The night appeared peaceful, and for a moment he allowed himself to believe it was. He’d not known a peaceful night in far too long now.
Only after a physician visited and then left again, and when the keep hushed as nobles and servants retired for the night did he steal into Meira’s bedchamber. She lay sprawled across her bed, her chest rising and falling with each deep, even breath.
She was asleep. It was no charade this time.
He approached the bedside and gazed down at her beautiful face. A warmth too hot to put out climbed into his chest. Love… It was a dangerous word for him. He’d lost every single person he’d ever loved, mostly due to his own stupidity of longing. If he allowed this feeling to grow, would he lose her too?
“You are too good at acting,” he whispered in the darkness. He placed his fingers against her warm cheek, willing his power to keep from surging into her as it had earlier. “You frightened me. That hasn’t happened in a good while.”
His fingertips trailed from her cheek, down her arm, and he lightly grasped her hand in his. She did not wake as he cradled her hand to his face. He dared not kiss her fingers like he wanted to, as he feared any kiss might suck her soul straight from her body.
A canine whined on the other end of the room. Death turned his head to find wisps of shadow crawling across the floor, bathed in silver moonlight.
Heaving a sigh, he gently released her hand. “I know, I know. We’ve got souls to reap. I’m coming.”
He glanced back at her shapely form once more, a sense of longing for a family forming in his heart—a longing he had not felt in such a very long time.
But still, fear took hold of him, whispering dangerous words in his ears. He would lose her. He didn’t have enough time. His duties as Death took precedence over his feelings. She would never accept him for who he was and what he did.
What have you done to me?Joanna had cried after he’d bestowed a kiss full of love and admiration upon her lips. Her face had gone pale, the life sucking out of her despite Barret desperately trying to shove it back into her, without success. She’d looked at him with hatred. Contempt.You are the devil!
Devil.
Devil.
Devil.
Even several hundred years later, the words still clawed at him, adding new scars to his heart. He had not dared to fall in love again.
Until now.
No, he could not allow it to happen again. Fate was unkind to him, and he did not expect that to change anytime soon. He couldn’t lose focus. Saving Barret was his priority. His own heart had to be pushed aside.
An ache settled in him as he turned away from Meira and called his shadow hounds to his side. He would keep searching for a Lord or Lady Life, but so far, only Meira was able to withstand his touch. He would not travel far from her side. Not far at all.
Chapter 8
Meira’s hands trembled with excited disbelief as her eyes scanned the letter for the dozenth time. The hardened wax had been broken only that morning. A letter from the king. A summons to the royal court.
The horse jolted beneath her as it tripped over a rock, and she hurriedly clutched onto the saddle to maintain her balance. Frigid air cut through her heavy cloak, a gentle snow drifting down from thick, white clouds. Despite the hasty departure from the baron’s keep upon receiving the summons and the dreary winter weather dumping down on her, excitement blossomed within her chest.
The king… She would get to meet the king!
Not only that, but one of her dearest friends, Elise Farrington, lived in the king’s city of Quinten. She had not seen Elise in such a long time. It would be nice to catch up with her over their three years of separation.
“Well, aren’t you a jumble of nerves,” a voice said beside her, and she jumped at Death’s sudden appearance. She glanced toward the three guards on horses in front of her and looked over her shoulder at the three guards trailing behind. Enough space rested between them that they likely wouldn’t hear her if she spoke softly.
“I cannot help my excitement,” she murmured, casting him a glance out of the corner of her eye. He walked beside her horse, though no footprints marked the ground where he trod.
A blush entered her cheeks as she met his eye. She recalled his gentle fingers against her cheek, and the affectionate way he’d cradled her hand to his face as she’d feigned sleep.
“Meeting the king is a great honor, or so I’ve heard,” he said. His hands hung limp at his sides, and she noticed how he kept his distance from her horse. Eyeing his seemingly harmless fingers, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he did touch the animal.
