Page 30 of Hell Hath No Fury
Or so we’d been told.
The ground crunched and squelched underneath my boots as I dismounted and made my way to him, not entirely of my own accord. Something pulled me.
He didn’t move as I stopped in front of him, my boots almost kissing his torso. The rain had plastered his black hair to his face like ink, stark against his alabaster skin. There was blood covering a good deal of it. He was large, even on the ground half dead. Attractive too. With a strong jawline, dark lashes and full lips. If he looked like this wet and dying, I figured he was pretty fucking hot when he was dry and … alive.
Something moved in the woods beyond.
My eyes flickered upward, meeting the silver dollar irises that were usually the last thing people saw on this earth.
Death and I stared at each other for a few beats, not saying anything. Not needing to. We were old friends, Death and I. Nyx had a thing for Him. Not that she’d ever admit it. Falling for Death was a recipe for disaster.
My attention panned back down to the man in front of me. I licked the rain off my lips as my heart beat louder, in tandem with the sluggish beats of his. That thread burned brighter, thickened.
Fuck.
Whatever it was couldn’t be good.
Best to end it now before it caused the trouble I could taste on my tongue.
My knees clicked as I bent down, regarding the man, deciding on the best way to kill him.
Lost in my thoughts, I leaned closer to his face than I intended, distracted by the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way droplets of water ran down the skin of his face, turning light crimson as they mingled with his blood. Something about him … enchanted me. Something about him was sofamiliar that the cells in my body responded to him. Warmth bloomed in my stomach.
Until cold steel met my neck.
I blinked down to see the dying man had managed to get one over on me. His impressive arm was outstretched so the knife bit into the skin of my neck.
“You move an inch, I’ll sever your artery,” he grunted out, his voice marred with pain. It was still pleasing. Rumbling. Masculine.
I tilted my head ever so slightly. “Aw, I bet you say that to all the girls.”
The heat from the core of the earth was mine to harness. Heating up the handle of the blade took less than a second.
His eyes flared in surprise, holding it a second longer than any other mortal would’ve. Now the smell of burning flesh mixed with rain, earth and him.
The blade steamed as it hit the damp ground.
A red welt immediately appeared on his palm. He stared at it, grimacing and horrified. Then his eyes went to me.
“What are you?” he ground out.
“A witch, duh,” I rolled my eyes. Then before we could do any more talking or my boots could get ruined further, I put him to sleep.
Normally with mortals, it took as much effort as bending my little finger. With him, it was tricker. His will was stronger.
It took the same amount of effort as clenching a fist.
“There,” I muttered, considering him and this situation when his head hit the earth next to his dagger.
I could’ve used magick.
The side of the road was rather exposed, but the hour and the location meant it was unlikely that a mortal would just stumble upon me performing magick. It was more likely that one of my sisters would find me. And it was a crapshoot as to which sisterit would be and how they felt about turning me in to Ridley for performing magick on a public road, regardless of it being the middle of the night.
There were punishments for such things. Punishments that had not been strictly enforced during my mother’s reign, but I had the feeling Ridley would delight in bringing them back. Especially for me.
I didn’t fear whatever punishments she chose… She wouldn’t be alive long enough to see them through.
Which would obviously turn into a wholething.
