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“Nothing,” he answered.
“Nothing?”
“That’s right,” he said, that tenacious smirk returning to his full lips.
“You are supposed to be the maker of deals, are you not? Since when have you done something and asked for nothing in return?”
The smirk grew. “Never.”
“So then why now?” I asked, my suspicions growing.
The God of Death tipped my chin upwards, bringing my gaze to his. “Because to the rest of the world, I am the villain, but to you, and you alone, I no longer wish to be.”
My heart galloped. “So then . . . what of our last deal? Will you release me from it?”
He leaned in, his lips so close to mine, I tasted his words. “Deal or not, I will never release you from me.” His fingers slid from my chin, gliding upwards, caressing my cheek.
“Then you will be a cage to me.” My voice was softer than it should be. I should be angry, and yet, I felt nothing of the sort.
“I will,” he agreed in that bourbon tone. “But not of the kind that you are used to. From this day forward, my cage will serve but one purpose—to protect you. Don’t you see? You hold the key to this one, and you can leave whenever you wish. And while you are gone, I will wait for you to return, no matter how long it takes for you to come back to me.”
“And if it takes forever?” I asked, breathlessly.
“Then it is a good thing my patience springs eternal,” he said slowly, so I could feel the weight of his words.
And feel them I did.
The air around us became charged, as if some form of ancient magic was finally awakening.
His voice dropped dangerously low, as if he were pledging a sacred oath. “There will come a day when I will claim you as my bride, and on that day, all Three Realms will address you as queen.”
“And when will that day be?” I asked, fighting my damnedest not to kiss him in this moment.
“All that matters is that it is not today, Little Goddess,” he purred.
We stayed like that for a while. With his eyes on mine, and mine on his, a silent understanding forming between the two of us.
Between Life and Death.
Sage
The featherlight touch of daylight warmed my left side, but despite its pleasant caress, something was very, very wrong . . .
I couldn’t feel my hands. At least, not completely.
Startled, I jerked awake.
Bright light spilling in from a nearby window momentarily blinded me before my pupils adjusted. I was laying on a massive canopy bed—large enough to rival the one in Von’s private chambers back at the manor. My arms were hoisted towards the ceiling, causing the blood to drain out, cauterizing the nerves and any feeling with it. Metal cuffs wound around my wrists connected by a heavy, unyielding chain that cantilevered over the wood beam above. The beam, carved with a delicate pattern and meticulously polished, stretched from bedpost to bedpost.
I pulled, testing the iron bonds. When I released the tension, the chains clanked against the stone wall behind the bed, chattering in laughter at my feeble attempt. Utilizing my feet and my abdomen, I wiggled my way into a sitting position, making it so that my hands were now by my head rather than strung above me. It was a small improvement, but hopefully it would be enough to have some of the blood flow return to them.
Dread pooled low in my belly when I realized that my neck was collared once more, the iron like a well-sharpened knife, cutting me off from my Curse.
“Damn it,” I hissed under a frustrated breath before I started to survey my unfamiliar surroundings.
The bedroom chamber boasted of luxurious taste, from the expensive-looking rugs casually tossed over the stone floors to the rich drapery that hung on the windows to the pristine, immaculate furniture, none of which looked to ever have been used—that, or it was brand new. The sitting area was centered around a huge fireplace, framed with a solid slab of white, glittering stone. Off to the side of it, a small private library full of books.
I could handle the unfamiliarity of the room. But the chains that limited my movement? Those I could not. Because the last time my body was tied to something . . .
