Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Zinnia

The ship seemed to lift completely out of the water before crashing back down. Rain and wind battered us as the ocean churned, throwing the ship around like it was a rubber ducky in a hot tub.

We went up again, and my stomach dropped as we slammed back down. My feet slipped from under me as water washed onto the deck. I grabbed for the railing as a strong arm locked around my middle, and I was hauled off the deck and dragged back under the small eave above the door that led down below. The door swung open behind us, and Death reached back and yanked it shut.

"Thanks," I said and tried to move out of Death's hold.

He tightened his grip. "You're not going anywhere, little witch," he said close to my ear, making me shiver. "No fucking way I'm letting you get swept overboard."

"I'm fine. I'm just more of a land lover," I called over the wind. "In case you hadn't figured it out." I'd spent the first couple hours throwing up over the side, much to the amusement of the crew.

"Yeah, I got that," he said, still way too freaking close.

The way his voice affected me made my face heat. Thankfully, in this position, with him behind me, he couldn't see his "warrior consort" blushing like a besotted teenager. I didn't want to want him, but with every day that passed, lying to myself got harder—because I was definitely feeling things, or my body was, anyway.

The ship rolled again, and I managed to bite back my scream, just. "Can this thing capsize?"

"It's just a storm. It'll pass."

"That didn't answer my—" Something moved in the darkness, rising out of the sea, then diving back down, something huge. I grabbed Death's forearm locked around my waist. "There's something in the water."

"Where?" he yelled over the furious wind.

I pointed just as it rose out again and gnashed long, sharp teeth, then dove back down. The ship jolted sharply, but this time, it wasn't the storm. "Oh fuck."

Death brought my hand to one of the beams beside us before releasing me. "Don't let go," he said as he took off his jacket. "Knife," he said to me.

"What?"

"I need to slow it down, or he'll put a hole in the hull," he yelled.

And we'd sink. "What are you going to do?"

"If he's bleeding, he'll be more concerned with other predators on his tail than sinking us." He slid the knife from the sheath strapped to my thigh, then pulled his own from the side of his boot.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He signaled something to the demon captain. "I won't be long," he said to me. Gripping both knives tighter, he ran to the ship's railing, jumped up onto it, then dove into the sea.

I rushed to the edge just as he surfaced, then dove back down. "Holy shit." I searched the water, waiting, but he didn't surface again. Clinging to the railing, I ran around the edge of the ship as it jerked and lilted to the side, groaning and crashing down against the waves throwing us about. Death was immortal, but even he couldn't survive the jaws of a monster like that.

It was so dark, the ocean nothing but swirling obsidian, and I couldn't see anythi—

The monster rose with a roar, then dove back down—then nothing.

I ran around the ship again, hanging over the edge, desperately searching for Death. A hand landed on my shoulder, and I was shoved back from the edge. I spun as one of the demons pulled me toward the door that led below the ship, the bastard's yellowed teeth sharp and its bullish face curled in a sick grin. "No, Death can't die, but coming back after being minced up by that monster out there will take months, maybe even years. He'll have forgotten all about you by then."

Another demon joined him. "I got her first. You owe me," he said to his buddy.

This wasn't happening. No fucking way. Death had my big knife, but my small one was just as lethal. Twisting from his hold, I pulled it from my boot as I spun around and slashed. He grabbed his throat, roaring as blood sprayed from the severed artery. Spinning back, I kicked his leg out from under him, and he hit the deck. More demons gathered around to watch as I smashed my boot down on his ribs, cracking several of them, then pulled his own knife from the sheath at his hip, a nice big one, and used it to saw off his head, tossing it overboard before it had a chance to turn to ash.

Another came at me, the crew laughing and egging him on. Thank fuck Hemy wasn't with me right now. If these demons had hurt him… just the thought fueled my rage. The demon lunged at me, and I ducked, spun, and shoved the knife into his side. He screeched as I wrenched it up, then back down, spilling his guts all over the deck. I shoved my elbow into his throat, spinning back to slash it open. The blade's serrated edge was so sharp and brutal, it half decapitated him with one swipe. I yanked his head back and hacked through his spinal cord and vertebrae, severing his head, and he turned to ash as well.

The next demon stepped forward. "She's mine," he spat.

I was conserving my magic. If I had to take them all out one by one, I would, but I wasn't using my powers until I absolutely had to. I wouldn't risk draining myself too soon. I lifted the knife—

Death bounded over the railing. He was covered in blood, deep gouges across his chest, and the fury on his face when he took in what was happening would have given me pause if I wasn't so fucking relieved to see him. "No, demon, she's mine," Death roared, so fiercely, I stumbled back.

He strode forward, grabbed the demon in front of me by the throat, and tore his head from his body with his bare hands. The demons around us dropped to their knees, their heads bowed, their fear obvious. Death spun to the captain, who was on his knees as well. He grabbed him by the throat as well and lifted him, shoving him against the mast. "You allowed your crew to attack my consort," he said in a voice that had more than one demon pissing themselves and several more openly weeping.

It was full of all the things that the God of Death could deliver—horror, pain, terror.

"Has it been so long since I entered the Outer Realm that you forget who I am, demon?" he roared. "Have you forgotten what I'm capable of?"

"No, m-my lord," the demon stammered.

Death's hatred swirled around him, the shadows transforming him into the vision of his name, his face a skull, his cloak whipping about. He moved fast, slamming his fist into the demon's chest. His hand had turned black when he pulled out his beating heart and shoved it in the screaming demon's mouth before he tore him open, emptying his insides out all over the deck to slide around in the ash already there from the two demons I'd just killed. Death got in his face. Holding the demon's gaze and ignoring his muffled screams, Death gripped his throat tighter.

The demon shook his head frantically, his eyes pleading for mercy, but Death had no mercy to give and tore his head from his body, tossing it on the ground before he turned to ash as well.

Finally, he turned slowly, his cloak whipping around him in the storm. "If any of you look at my consort, I will kill you," he said, and then he pointed to one of the demons standing out of the circle—the only demon who hadn't been cheering when they'd all surrounded me. "You're the captain now. Keep your crew in line."

Then he took my hand, shoved the door open, and led me below deck.

* * *

Death shoved the door open to one of the rooms and pulled me in.

"Stay here," he said and disappeared.

Mounted lanterns flickered against the walls. There was a table against one side of the small room, an old steel tub down from that, and a bed on the opposite side. I flicked back the covers and inspected the worn cotton sheets. They looked clean. Risking it, I leaned in and sniffed. They smelled clean. I assumed we had Horace to thank for that. Though I wasn't sure I'd get much sleep tonight, not when the entire crew was after my blood—or something even worse.

The door opened again, and Death strode back in, a demon rushing in behind him carrying two buckets of steaming hot water. He dumped them into the tub and rushed off again while Death unloaded his armful of food on the table. Bread, cheese, and a bottle of wine.

I said nothing and neither did he as the demon returned and dumped more water in the tub, another demon behind him with his own buckets. They came and went until it was three-quarters full, and then Death told them not to come back and slammed the door and locked it.

"Those scratches on your chest, they look really bad," I said and closed the space between us. I lifted my hand, and he stepped back.

"They're full of poison," he said. "I need to soak the wounds in hot water now, or they won't heal properly."

"Could the poison actually kill you?"

He shook his head. "It could make me sick, though."

"Well, get in the tub. What are you waiting for?"

His gaze swept over me. "Are you hurt? Did they hurt you, Zinnia?"

He was using my name more and more, and it was an assault to every one of my senses each time he uttered it. "I'm fine. I should've expected it. I'm the idiot who dropped her guard."

He did another sweep of my body. "You're not an idiot." Then again, from head to toe. Finally satisfied I was okay, he nodded and sat on one of the chairs.

"It's kind of you to say, but we both know that's a lie."

He made a rough sound and pulled off his boots, kicking them aside. Then he stood again, his hands dropping to the buttons of his pants, and he undid them—and shoved them down.

Holy shit.

He didn't turn away. He stood there in all his slick, hairless, naked glory. I tried not to look; I really did. My mouth went dry. "Looks like I can cross shy off the list," I said and tried not to sound as breathless as I felt. Goddess, I knew he was beautiful, but I was seriously struggling to breathe. He was just all finely sculpted muscle and tattoos. No female could look at him and not be… affected. You're still staring. Yes, yes, I was. I pulled out one of the chairs and sat at the table as he stood by the tub. His hand changed color—pale gray, then deepening until it was black again. He held it above his chest, and the slashes oozed, a black substance bubbling to the surface. He swiped his hand down, and the poison splattered on the wooden floor before evaporating.

"So the hand of death does more than just straight up murder, then?" I said as he climbed into the tub.

"It does."

The polite thing to do would be to sit with my back to him, but I refused to show weakness. He knew what he was doing, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him see he'd gotten to me, and I would not freaking blush. It's not like his was the first cock I'd seen. Was it the most perfect? Yes. The biggest? Hell, yes. But I was no shy little virgin, and I refused to act like one. It didn't matter who he was.

Breaking off a piece of bread, I topped it with cheese, then poured us both a glass of wine. "How long do you have to soak those wounds?" I asked and glanced up again. He was sitting in the tub, facing me, of course. He'd want to see if he'd gotten to me. The tub was pretty big, but his knees were forced to bend a little and spread wide.

He had his head tilted back, resting on the edge. "Until I feel all the poison's gone. I should have gotten most of it, but with my weakened powers…" He shrugged. "Could take a few minutes, could be an hour—depends how deep its claws went."

"So what else does the hand of death do?"

"Besides what you just saw? Not much. Mainly just the whole straight up murder thing."

"Nice," I said, ignoring the stupid flutters in my belly at the way he was looking at me. "You want some food?"

His head lifted, and those mesmerizing blue eyes locked on me. "Please."

I made him a cheese sandwich and grabbed his wine. He tracked me as I walked over to him, and I did my best not to ogle him as I handed him his wine. He drank it and gave me the glass, then took the sandwich.

"Thank you," he said. "You can go first tonight."

Of course he hadn't forgotten. No matter the circumstances, the evenings were question time. I took my seat again and popped a piece of cheese in my mouth while I contemplated my question. One kept circling my mind. It was a dangerous question and probably not the one I should ask considering our circumstances, but I wasn't sure I could help myself. "I should get two questions tonight. Your crew just tried to make me their sex slave, so you owe me."

His hand exploded out of the water and gripped the edge of the tub like he was about to bound over the side. "Do not remind me of that. We still need to make it to land, and if you talk about what they were going to do to you, Zinnia, I will get out of this tub and slaughter the entire crew. Do you know how to sail a ship? Because I can't do it alone."

He meant it. Vengeance burned in his eyes. He was fighting it, the need to slaughter every one of them. "I won't mention it again, promise." I pretended to zip my lips. "So that's a yes on the two questions?"

"Yes, but I get two as well."

I guess he had jumped into the ocean during a storm to fight a giant sea creature, so it'd be rude not to agree. "Fine."

He smirked.

Goddess, that smirk was dangerous. I tapped my lips and mulled over the best way to ask my question while he waited patiently. I cleared my throat. "How many times have you made this trip with one of your consorts?"

His nostrils flared. "Twice."

"Twice? You've had an unverified number of consorts. How could it only be twice?"

"Is that your second question?"

Was it? "I don't know."

"Well, while you decide, I'll ask you one. During the times you've been away from me, have you fucked anyone else?"

The vein pulsed at the side of my throat. He was obsessed with my sex life, and the way he'd been looking at me when he asked that… goddammit, I was having trouble breathing again. " Anyone else implies that we're already fucking," I said, for reasons unknown.

He bared his teeth in a way that should be terrifying but didn't scare me anymore. "Answer the question, wife," he said, using my title as if it held all the weight in the world.

As if that title actually meant something. As if me being with another male would actually be a betrayal. "Would you truly be angry if I had?"

The steel tub bent under his hand. I'd take that as a yes.

"Answer the question, Zinnia," he growled.

"No, I haven't been with anyone since I revealed who I was to you."

He visibly relaxed.

"Why do you care?" I said before I could stop myself. "You don't love me. You didn't choose me. I was chosen for you, just one of, well, possibly ten random other females to darken your castle steps. I don't get it."

His jaw tightened. "That's obvious, but what you need to understand is, you are mine, Zinnia. You are everything I want, all I want. I have no use for any other female, no desire to be with anyone but you. You don't need to get it . That's just the way it is."

I stared at him, stunned, for several seconds. "So what you feel, it's like a mate bond?"

"Yes, it's a lot like that. Which is why being parted from you is… hard." The tub buckled further under his hand. "And why the thought of you with someone else…" His lips peeled back. "I don't like it."

I was stunned. I had no idea. He'd never shown it—well, not until the last week or so. Until he'd just spelled it out, I'd had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. "I feel sorry for you then," I said into the silence. "This must truly suck. I don't know why your consorts keep… dying or why fate has an endless supply of us lined up for you, but it has to be painful to feel a connection like that to someone, then have them taken away over and over again."

Something shifted through his eyes that I couldn't read, and then his head tilted to the side. "You feel sorry for me? You think you're going to die in the near future, but it's me you're concerned about?"

I shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I don't want to die, not yet. But I have family waiting for me. Loved ones who will welcome me with open arms when that time comes. This… it's endless for you."

"Don't," he said roughly. "Do not accept death as the outcome. Do as I say, and you will live."

He was delusional. The odds were not in my favor. The way he was looking at me, the pain and desperation, the need for me to believe it, to be the exception, was hard to look at. I was a realist, though. Whatever the fates had in store for me was what would be. No, I wouldn't go down easily, but I needed to come to terms with the possibility of my reality.

"Right, next question," I said, not wanting to talk about my death anymore. "Did you sleep with all your consorts? You're old as hell. You wanted my number, but I'm assuming yours is pretty freaking high." Where the hell had that come from? I was trying to lighten the heavy mood that had fallen over the room, but now it sparked with electricity.

His chest rose and fell as if he was trying to steady his breathing. "Not quite as old as Hell."

"Answer the question."

"No."

"Because you didn't want to, or because they didn't live long enough?"

He said nothing.

Nope, not feeling overly reassured by the whole don't accept death as the outcome thing. My gaze dipped to his chest. "The poison out yet?"

"Yes." His gaze darkened, the shadows beginning to swirl around him. "My turn."

My stomach squirmed, and that look in his eyes, I felt it. Goddess, did I feel it. "Shoot."

"Do you want me to fuck you, Zinnia?"

My body instantly responded. A pulse throbbed deep inside me. So many things were flying through my head right then. He was beautiful; he wanted me and only me. I was his consort and I would be until my last breath, and if things went the way they usually did for Death, that would be coming sooner rather than later. I'd lived my life to the fullest, as best as I could, anyway, with the responsibility I'd had. And I realized, looking over at him, I wasn't about to stop now. "Did your consorts die because they kissed you? Slept with you?"

"No," he said.

He could be lying, but I didn't think so. His pain was too real. He didn't want to lose me; I saw it, felt it. "You're overwhelming, Mors, in so many ways. The idea of surrendering to you, of letting you have me in that way, it's too much. So no, I don't want you to fuck me, not yet."

He flinched, but besides that, he didn't move, every muscle in his body rock solid. "I understand—"

"I haven't finished," I said and took a steadying breath while my heart tried to leave my body. Apparently, I was a masochist, and I'd decided to give in to it completely. "No, because the first time we do sleep together… I'll be the one fucking you."