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“What are you doing here?” Aurelius growled, the regal authority in his voice making me weak in the knees. That ache continued to build, begging me to kneel for my king. The Creator designed us to be this way, our immortal bodies forged to obey the order of our divine hierarchy. “You are exiled from the Living Realm.”
“I was coming here to bestow a blessing upon the little goddess. But now I’m trying not to lose my dinner,” the male stated, his tone holding no softness. It was impenetrable leather and heavy, heavy smoke.
Whoever this male was, Aurelius’s command seemed to hold no dominion over him. Which meant he was more powerful than Aurelius. My mouth popped open, a sense of dread pitting itself in my stomach.
Standing on the tips of my toes, I peered over top of Aurelius’s shoulder. And that was when I saw him—the angel of darkness. His massive, raven-like wings spread out behind him, a black crown made of flame and bone floating above his head.
Iknewhim. I had felt him surround me while I was being forged in Mother Luna.
The God of Death.
And he was so incredibly beautiful. Devastatingly so.
He tucked his wings in, and his lips curved into a wicked grin, those black, soulless eyes narrowing in on me. “Well, well, well, you certainly are a divine little thing, aren’t you? Why do you cower from me like a kitten? Perhaps you should step away from your captor and let me drink my fill of you.”
“Shut your vile mouth,” Aurelius growled, the air crackling with his infinite power—the power of the sun.
My knees wobbled once more, outright demanding that I bow this time. I fought the urge, gripping Aurelius’s shoulder tightly. “Please, let’s just go, my love,” I whispered.
“Go?” The dark god chuckled, shaking his head as if that simply would not do. “But I traveled all this way. The least you could do is take my gift.”
“We do not want anything from you,” Aurelius decreed, the disdain in his voice ringing as clear as a tolling bell.
“You will not receive anything from me. Her, however . . .” Obsidian eyes met mine and that sinister smile returned. “She will accept my gift.”
I paled, a sense of foreboding churning my stomach.
Aurelius’s hand fell to the back of my thigh, clutching me to him, needing to feel me against him as if I might disappear at any moment. “She does not want it,” he snarled.
“Is that true?” the God of Death asked me.
“Yes,” I replied, my voice just barely above a whisper.
“Oh, Little Goddess, how can you say that? You don’t even know what it is,” he purred, the cadence in his voice seductive, his gaze matching.
I averted mine.
“Enough,” Aurelius commanded, his mighty voice crackling amongst the stars with such veracity that they quit twinkling—fearful that the sun had come to chase them away.
Shadows swirled around the God of Death as he said, “No, young god, with me, it will never be enough. You stole my realms from me. For that, I’ll take everything from you. Starting with the very thing you planned to gain from her.”
In a fractured second, he disappeared.
“No!” Aurelius yelled, turning towards me. He reached out, but it was too late—a shadow wrapped its hand around my neck, and I was dragged into the darkness.
A flash of starlight erupted around me, gone as quickly as it came.
Then we were in a grand, private chamber that functioned as a bedroom, a private bar, and a library. From floor to wall to the ceiling, all of it was black, even the bulky furniture positioned throughout. The fireplace roared as it devoured the logs piled within, basking the sprawling room in a luxurious honey-colored glow and scenting the chambers with the smell of wintergreen. But that wasn’t the only scent that painted the room. There was something else, and it was much, much more . . . masculine.
“Have a seat, princess,” Death said as he discarded me carelessly on the massive bed, large enough that he could sleep with his wings flared out.
I scrambled to my knees, gathering the black silk sheet in front of me to cover my nakedness. Pulling it with me, I backed myself against the headboard, as far away as I could get from him.
He looked at me, a powerful muscle feathering his steel-cut jaw. He tore his gaze from mine and strode over to a large, wood desk, one tattooed hand plucking a cup by its lip and the neck of a bottle in one quick swoop. Creator above, he had huge hands.
. . . All the better to wrap around my neck and squeeze the life from me with.
“Where are we?” I asked, stiffening my bottom lip, refusing to let it tremble. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me quiver.
