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“Carry me.”
“What?” he asked, his dark brows drawing together in confusion.
“Through the doorway,” she explained, jerking her head in the direction of the Lobby portal she’d opened. “You carry me, and we’ll go through together.”
He peered at her as though he thought she was nuts. He probably did think she was nuts. And to be fair, Bunny wasn’t entirely sure he was wrong. He narrowed his inky gaze at her in speculation. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely,” she lied with ease, hoping desperately her plan paid off. She stepped up to the plate, reaching up to wrap her arms around the back of his neck. His dark hair brushed against her bare arm, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with his body temperature, or lack thereof.
There was a moment—little more than a second or two—where their eyes met. They were close enough to kiss again, and Bunny felt a rush of heat low in her stomach when she noticed his gaze slip down to her lips.
That damned blush threatened to rear its embarrassing head as she bounced experimentally on the balls of her feet, trying to work out how much effort she was going to have to make to jump up into his arms. “Ready? One, two, three!”
Before he could chicken out, Bunny kicked off the ground and he fumbled to get his arms beneath her. The amount of times she’d fantasized about something like this happening with Death was absolutely obscene. But she hadn’t imaged it happening quite like this.
“Oof,” he grunted, shifting to better accommodate the extra weight he was carrying.
“Hey!” she warned him, trying not to wriggle and make him lose his tenuous grip. “Quick—go through!”
Apparently, he didn’t need to be told twice. Without further ado, Death charged at the portal, barreling through as though he had a hellhound snapping at his heels.
But he must have tripped, because the next moment, Bunny was flying through the glaringly white space of the Lobby solo, landing with a crunch that didn’t bode well for her medical insurance policy. Her arms took the brunt of the fall, pain radiating through her elbows right up to her shoulders and neck.
“Oh fuck,” she groaned, plopping onto her side, and rolling onto her back. She felt like a turtle without its shell for a full three seconds as she waited to see if there was any other pain that might indicate a broken arm… or leg… or neck. When the pain in her shoulders and neck subsided and nothing else flared up to take its place, she allowed herself a small, panicked chuckle of relief—right before she sat up to glare at Death for dropping her.
But he was still lingering behind the portal in the human realm.
“What the hell?” she growled, pushing herself up off the floor with building frustration.
Death looked moderately less impressed with her coming through the portal this time, simply craning his neck as though expecting to get a glimpse of what was beyond the door before Bunny came all the way back through.
“Where’d you go this time?” he asked, like a child who thought she was simply having a ton of fun having random adventures on celestial planes.
“Same place I went last time,” Bunny replied dryly. “Same place I need you to go.”
He sighed, tilting his chin up as he lost himself in thought.
“Maybe you need to carry me,” he suggested a moment later, “seeing as you’re the one who wants to go to this place so badly?”
Bunny was impressed. She pursed her lips in a not-bad expression, nodding at him. “Worth a shot,” she agreed, as Death positioned himself in front of her. His arms came up around her neck, mirroring the pose she’d taken with him just minutes beforehand.
“What are you doing?” she asked, backing away a little.
“Getting into position,” he said, bouncing on his feet in preparation the way she had. It was the only cue Bunny needed to step the hell away before he leapt on her and snapped her like a twig.
“You’re like six feet tall,” she said. “There’s no chance I’m going to be able to carry you like that!”
He looked crestfallen. “How, then?”
“Piggyback,” she said, feeling the ridiculousness of the word as soon as it left her lips. If she ever got around to writing her memoirs one day, this would make for excellent material. A chapter headed ‘How I Gave Death a Piggyback into the Celestial Waiting Room of Life and Death.’ Of course, she’d have to market it as fiction. Fantasy fiction, even.
“What?” he asked, tilting his head to one side like a confused puppy.
“Stand behind me and put your arms around my neck like this,” she instructed, turning her back to him and helping him position his arms. “And then you jump up onto my back and grip my hips with your thighs.”
He thought about it for a second.
“Okay,” he said, not sounding entirely convinced. “Ready?”
