Page 10 of Jailer to the Death God
Whatever I expected of a god, it wasn’t this beautiful man with striking cheekbones, full lips, and a perfectly-toned body.
Not that any of it affects me in the least.
When he first exploded out of the Pit, in his immensely tall, unearthly form, and he spoke in that great echoing voice, I nearly shrieked aloud. His appearance, crashing against my raw nerves, was too much. I thought I might lose my mind.
But I managed to channel my fear into rage. He’s the one Rose died to summon. I’ll be damned if I don’t master him and save her sisters’ lives.
Leaving Arawn by the carriage, I help my servants and guards with the bodies. I handle Leilani myself, rolling her gently to the edge of the hole, tucking her arms over her chest before whispering a final goodbye and sending her tumbling into the dark.
Stray thoughts flit through my head as I kneel by the Pit.
I will have bruises on my knees from these wretched vines.
Two of my nails are broken.
The blood has dried on my fingers, and it’s cracking and flaking where my knuckles bend.
I am so hungry I feel sick. When did I last eat?
I’m not sure if I have the strength to stand up again.
None of that matters.
I didn’t actually expect the death god to appear. But he did, and now I have to figure out what to do with him. Does he eat? Sleep? Shit? What sort of clothes does he like to wear? Because he certainly can’t walk around the palace half-naked.
Before I sort through any of that, I must take him straight to Rose’s house. He will spare her little sisters, and maybe then I can begin to grasp the fact that I’ve lost both my best friends in one day.
The guards wrap Rose’s body and lift her into one of the other carriages. I collect the ancient book of rituals from the ground and climb into my own coach, gesturing for Arawn to follow. The tips of his horns slit the padding on the carriage roof when he slides onto the seat, and I vent an exasperated sigh.
“I’m not getting rid of the horns,” he says, before I can demand it. “I refuse to walk this plane in a form that could be mistaken for mortal. I am a god, and I expect to be treated with the respect I deserve.”
I ignore him and gaze out the frosty window as the carriage jolts into motion.
“A year,” he snarls, low. “What were you thinking?”
“I’m surprised no one else has tried to bind you for that long.”
“They all made their requests neatly and concisely,” he retorts. “I was able to complete them quickly and return to my realm. That is how this is supposed to work.”
“Your realm, and the souls in it—will they be all right without you?”
“For a while,” he replies grudgingly. “The function of it all is more or less governed by my will, and that doesn’t change even when I’m not there to directly oversee it. But I’ve never had to leave Annwn for this long. I’m not sure what will happen after I’m absent for one week, or two—or a fucking year.”
I can feel him glaring at me. “I suppose when I arrive in your realm someday, I’m going to regret this.”
“Oh yes. I’ll see to the judgment of your soul personally.” Malevolent glee colors his tone.
“Do what you want with me,” I say absently. “As long as this bargain works, and I can save some lives, I don’t care how you punish me later.”
4
I may not have much interest in sex, but I’ve learned plenty about it from the deeds of the souls that pass through my furnace. I’m aware of all its variations and shades of preference.
When the lovely Queen leans her head against the carriage window and murmurs, “Do what you want with me… I don’t care how you punish me,” a twinge of unfamiliar sensation courses through my body. It’s a low, vibrant heat, coupled with a sudden awareness of the delicate column of her neck, the corner of her jaw, the soft pallor of her cheek, and the fragility of her thin fingers.
Her frailty against my strength. Her yielding flesh, soft and pliant under mine, while I punish her brutally for enslaving me like this.
The concept sends another wave of heat through my belly, and I shift on the padded bench of the carriage, frowning, displeased with myself.
