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Bile rushed from my stomach, and I smacked Death’s hand away as I puked. The sound of it splattering over my feet made me retch again, and I grabbed my belly as my nostrils flared from the stench. I’d seen horrendous crime scene pictures at work but witnessing it firsthand was more than I could deal with.
“Are you kidding me?” I forced myself to look at the man standing next to me. It was the first time my brain registered the black grim reaper mask over his face. Even if Stephen had made it out alive, he would have never been able to identify Death.
“You killed him in my house? How am I going to get the stains out of my floor?” My voice shook as disbelief and the aftermath of adrenaline spiked my heart rate. Straightening, I wanted him to kill Stephen, of course … just not in my home. What a fucking mess.
I stumbled to the sink. Distraught and angry, I turned on the water and hopped onto the counter, placing my feet in the stainless-steel basin. I washed the chunks of vomit and splatters of blood away, watching as the remnants circled down the drain. Impatiently waiting for Death to answer me, I glowered at him. My glare slipped into a frown. It was then that I realized he was bleeding. “You’re hurt.” I nodded at the gash in his long-sleeved black shirt that was covered with Stephen’s blood. Strangely, a flicker of knowing crept into my thoughts. He’d gotten hurt because of me. For me.
“It’s only a flesh wound.” He placed his hand over the gash on his left arm, red liquid seeping between his fingers.
I strained to identify his low and husky growl along with his Pacific Northwest accent, but it was useless. There was a good possibility that my brain was too scrambled to figure out who was behind the mask.
“You deserve worse for killing the bastard in my house, Death.” I blanched, fear bubbling inside of me for speaking to him so boldly, but apparently, I was in shock and my mouth had a mind of its own.
Through the haze of my shock, it dawned on me. He’d just saved my life. He’d protected me when I needed him the most. A tug of war between logic and my emotions kicked into overdrive, and I shuddered with the twists and turns my thoughts were taking. Tonight, he’d shown me a different side. He was a murderer, dark and cold, but … I snorted before a crazy laugh bubbled up as I washed my feet. I was fucked in the head. Every fiber in my being should hate him. I should have called the cops when he stepped foot in my home uninvited, but I couldn’t. Something inside pulled me to him. “You saved my life.”
Death responded with a grunt.
“And his family’s too.”
Frowning, I grabbed the dish towel beside the sink and dried my feet. My shoulders slumped as I stared at the body. Fuck! I have a dead person on my floor.
“So you’re one of those serial killers who saves people?”
That time, I didn’t even get a grunt. He just remained silent.
I hopped off the counter, careful to avoid the vomit puddle on the floor. I had a long night ahead of me, scrubbing and bleaching my floors.
I pointed at his arm. “Let me see.” I approached him and examined his wound through the cut on his black shirt. His grey eyes flickered with amusement as I gently moved the fabric away.
My chin jutted up, and I squared my shoulders as my gaze found his. “You’re going to help me clean up this mess and get the body out of my house. I can’t have you bleeding all over the place as you do. Follow me.” Maybe I was stupid turning my back on the man who had raped me. Then again, he’d also just killed for me.
I led him to my bathroom and turned on the light. He stood at the edge of the room, watching every move I made. Maybe he thought I had a weapon under my sink. I should have. It was something to consider, for damn sure.
Locating the first-aid kit in the cabinet, I placed it on the counter and pulled open the top. “Sit.” I tilted my head toward the toilet seat.
To my surprise he didn’t argue with me.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “For taking care of Stephen.” I didn’t expect an answer. “Take your arm out of your shirt and give it to me.” I busied myself as I cleaned the wound. “How did he cut you?”
“I thought you’d left the bedroom against my orders, and I lost my advantage.”
My eyes cut to his grey ones. “So it’s my fault?”
“Yes.”
The sound of my phone buzzing against my nightstand startled me. In the shock of the moment, I had forgotten anything or anyone else existed.
“Great. I guess it’s my fault that you killed a man in my house too.” I snorted. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly. You’ll save me from the boogeyman, but there’s no one to save me from you.”
“I’m glad you have that figured out.”
I shook my head while I secured a few butterfly bandages over his arm. “There. At least I won’t have anyone else’s blood on my floor.” I turned to wash my hands. “You’re helping me clean up. Don’t even think about ditching me.”
Death shot off the toilet seat, whirled me around, and forcefully slammed me against the wall, the air whooshing from my lungs.
“Don’t forget your place, little lamb. You serve me, not the other way around.” He dragged his knuckles down my cheek.
I swallowed my fear and clenched my jaw. Adrenaline snaked through my body, and my core clenched with the memories of him marking me with the hilt of his knife. Dammit, my body continues to betray me. “Then I’ll ask thee, my lord, to please assist your servant.” I licked my lips, my body responding to him pressing against me.
