Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Zinnia

I woke in bed alone, the sound of the piano drifting up from downstairs. He was back. Blinking up at the ceiling, I fought down the dread inside me. I'd lain awake for hours, waiting for Death to come back, to explain what the hell happened in those woods, to tell me who Alga was and what she was searching for.

Pushing back the covers carefully so I wouldn't wake Hemlock, I got out of bed and walked out into the hall. Would he even talk to me? I had to try, because right now, my brain was struggling to understand what I saw out there or what any of it meant. I rushed along the hall, the shadows dancing along the walls as if they were swaying to the music. The song was achingly sad; goddess, it was heartbreakingly beautiful.

My footfalls were silent as I made my way down the stairs and across the main hall.

The room beyond it was dark still—only light from an artificial moon filtered in through the tall windows.

Then I saw him.

His bare, tattooed back, head dipped while his strong hands moved over the keys.

Emotion poured from him, so enormous that despite everything, it pierced my soul. I stayed where I was, listening as he played his mournful song, watching as he felt every note. When the song finished, he sat there, utterly still.

"Come here," he finally said, voice low.

He'd clocked me as soon as I came down the stairs; of course he had. I felt his words in the pit of my stomach, his deep voice rolling through me, pulsing inside me. As soon as the command left his lips, I was moving across the marble floor.

I stopped beside him, and he turned to me, waiting for me to say whatever it was I was going to say, and I could see in his eyes that he wasn't going to give me the answers I wanted. "One of those things I need to learn on my own?" I said instead of all the things I wanted to say.

He shook his head. "One of the things you never need to know."

I had no idea who Alga was, but he'd been gentle with her—at least until he tore off her head. He was the God of Death, and she'd most certainly been dead. "She wasn't a soul. She was… something else."

"She was," he said.

"Is she part of some fucked-up skeletal army? I've seen the way you look when your cloak is called forth, when the shadows cover you. You change—you are Death. Somehow, she's part of that, isn't she?"

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, about my world, and a lot you will learn over time. There are other things, though, little witch, I pray you never have reason to learn." Taking my hand, he tugged me closer and cupped my cheek over the slices I'd cleaned and dressed when I got back. He stood, crowding me. "Where else are you injured?"

"My side and my thigh. I washed and dressed where she clawed me. I have my healing balm with me. It's fine."

"Are you in pain?"

"They're not that bad now. I have a potion that helps with pain, and it kicked in a while ago."

He studied me, trying to see if I was telling the truth. "You could have been killed," he rasped.

"I wouldn't have gone down easy," I said, now sounding breathless.

He gripped my hips, avoiding the slices on my side, and lifted me, planting my ass on the piano. His hand went to my throat, not gripping it, his open palm pressed to the base, and then he slid it lower, as low as he could go without his skin leaving mine.

I was in a pair of shorts and an old, stretched-out T-shirt, and the neck hung low. His palm sat directly over my heart. "You're so warm," he said roughly. "Your heart, it's beating almost frantically."

"You tend to have that effect on me." I lifted my hand, pressing it to his bare chest, right over his heart and the stars tattooed there. It was pounding, hard and fast.

"You have the same effect on me, love." His other hand gripped my uninjured thigh tight. "You always have."

"Even when you were stalking around, cloaked and full of rage?"

He licked those gorgeous lips. "Yes."

Hot, rough-skinned fingers slid up my thigh, then over my hip before gripping the worn fabric of my shirt tight. He dragged it up, forcing me to lift my arms. He dropped it on top of the piano beside me, and my nipples puckered as soon as the cool air hit them. Without taking his eyes off me, Death lifted a hand, aiming it at the door behind him, and invisible hands swung it shut with a loud click.

Then his hands were back on me, gliding, massaging, moving over my bare skin. He watched where they traveled, as if what he was doing was the most enthralling thing he'd ever seen.

"I don't think you realize how important you are to me, Zinnia. You don't get it, and that's not your fault. But believe me when I say, if something had happened to you today…" He looked up, darkness swirling. "I would have torn it all down. I would have burned so hot in my fury and grief that there would have been nothing left but stardust."

I swallowed, trying to process what he was saying. I couldn't. "You can't say things like that… you can't—"

"It's the truth. Do you want me to lie to you?"

I was struggling to take it all in, to focus, because his hands were still moving over my body, making my skin warm and tingly, making my breasts ache and causing a deep throb between my thighs. He carefully but forcefully pushed me back so I was lying on the piano's cool surface. His hands slid down my belly, and then he tugged my shorts and underwear down my body and tossed them onto the piano with my shirt.

"Spread your legs for me," he demanded softly.

I did as he said, instantly obeying. I should stop this after what he'd just said, after that declaration, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted whatever he was offering with an intensity that made me quiver. Resting his hand low on my belly, he dragged his thumb through my slick pussy, sliding it up and back. I was fully exposed, naked, and sprawled out in front of him. Death seemed content to take his time touching me.

"You can't imagine how good it feels buried deep inside you," he said and pushed the tip of his thumb inside me. "You don't know this, my precious consort, but I am your humble servant. Anything you desire, all you need to do is ask, and I will bend and twist, I will contort my world to make it yours as well."

My hips rolled. "Mors…" I said, even though I had no idea what to say next. What could you say to that? I had a god in the palm of my hand, but not even he could save me from fate, from death, if that's what was destined for me—just like the rest of them. But while I had him, while he was mine, he would worship me, and I would worship him.

If anyone deserved happiness, it was the male watching me like I was the brightest star in the sky.

"But it seems no matter what I say, you refuse to allow me to protect you." He slid his thumb the rest of the way inside me and kissed the inside of my thigh. "Outside this castle, if you are not with me, if you are off the path that I already told you not to wander from, you are at risk… yet you left the safety of these walls and ventured into the forest." He grazed his teeth along my skin, then nipped me. It wasn't hard, not enough to really hurt, but I gasped. "How many times do I have to say it? How many times do I have to ask you to remain at my side or in the safety of these grounds?" He looked up at me. "Do I need to punish you to make you do as I say, is that it?"

I moaned as he slid his thumb from me and replaced it with two fingers. "Y-you needed me," I said, quickly losing the ability to think or speak logically.

"Did I now? How do you know that, little witch?"

"B-because…" My hips rocked against his hand, trying to take more, to take those long, rough fingers deeper. "Because… I felt you. Your pain, your anger. I felt it here." I pressed my hand to my chest. "I just… I just knew, and I had to find you."

He stilled for a second, and I whimpered in protest. He started moving again, fucking me with his fingers, as shadows swirled around him, as his cloak manifested. "Then let me make something clear." He leaned forward. "Unless I ask you to come with me, you will remain here." Half of his face transformed, turning it into half a shadowed skull, half the male I was growing to care for more than I knew how to understand or process. "If you risk your safety again, your punishment will be a lot worse than the one I'm about to give you."

"What are you…?"

He lifted me, flipping me over. The stool scraped against the floor as Death planted my knees on it, and then he grabbed the back of my neck and forced my upper body down. My hands slammed down against the keys, making a chaotic, tuneless sound. He shoved the stool farther in and changed my position so my forearms were on top of the glossy black grand piano.

Then, leaning over me, he pressed his bare chest against my back, his arms bracketing me. His cloak brushed against my bare skin, and the power flowing through it lifted sparks all over me. I was in sensation overload.

One of his hands left my view, and a moment later, it was on my ass, squeezing. "Are you ready?"

"W-what are you…?"

His hand came down, hard.

I cried out and tried to bolt upright, but he held me down. "Mors—"

"You refuse to listen to me, so now I have to punish you," he said roughly, then spanked me again.

Humiliation burned my cheeks. "Don't you dare do it aga—" He did it again. I hissed, outraged, as his hand came down on the other cheek.

"You will learn, and you will obey me," he said against my ear as he massaged where he'd no doubt just left a massive handprint.

The burn sank in deep, and I squirmed.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure you've quite learned your lesson yet."

"Don't," I said, but my protest was weak because, goddess, it felt… I squirmed again, and my inner muscles throbbed, clamping down. It felt good.

He shoved my thighs wider. "One more," he growled.

This time, when he spanked me, his hand was low, slapping my pussy, but instead of crying out, I groaned, dropping my head to my forearms. Death covered my body, and having his skin against me, the feel of his hard body pressed to mine, was like having a craving I hadn't even known I'd had satisfied. He was hard; I could feel his cock through his pants pressed against my tender flesh.

"I need you," I gasped. "Please."

He dragged his nose up my throat. "Fucking you is a reward, love, and you haven't earned one, not yet." His staff appeared in his hand beside me.

"You want me," I managed, pushing back against his hardness.

"More than you will ever comprehend, but I've also had thousands of years to master my control, and if making you understand the severity of your actions means I walk around hard as fuck for a day or two, then that's what will happen." His cloak surrounded us, like a dark, warm cocoon. "I'm not a sadist, though," he said as he dragged his hand down my bare back, his roughened skin lifting goose bumps all over me. "I will deny you of me, but I also won't leave you wanting. Your needs are paramount always."

I pressed back against him more firmly. "Then don't deny me," I said, so hot and wet and achy, I was close to begging.

He kissed my shoulder. "I'll make you come, love, and it will feel earth-shattering." He pressed his mouth to my ear. "But nowhere near as good as when your male, the god who owns you, who is the master of your cunt and the owner of your heart, is buried deep inside you." He nipped my shoulder. "But that's the point. How will you learn without consequences?"

"Arrogant asshole…" The insult died on my lips as he kissed his way down my spine.

"I have reason to be arrogant, and you know it."

Something warm and smooth slid along my pussy, gliding over my opening, then up to my clit. "What… what is that?" I groaned.

"Did you know my staff is part of me?" His mouth came back to my ear. "I feel what it feels. It's alive in my hands, like another arm or leg or…" He pushed the tip of his staff inside me, the smooth wood hot, yes, as if it was alive.

"Oh gods," I breathed, dropping my head to my forearms, panting, desperate for more.

He pushed it deeper, and I felt every knot and twist of the gnarled, worn wood as it filled me. "If the conditions are just so, I can come just stroking it," he said, panting against my throat. "You feel… so good. So fucking good, Zinnia."

He slid it out, then back in, and I cried out.

"I'm going to make you come now, love, so hard that you'll make a mess all over my piano stool. Are you ready?"

I was only capable of making sounds—desperate, needy sounds, like an animal, a creature that only existed for Death and the pleasure he chose to give me.

He fucked me with his staff faster. His front was still pressed to my back, his cloak surrounding us. I knew his face was at least half his skull mask, and the thought only turned me on more. He was breathing heavily in my ear as he slid his hand down my stomach and started circling my clit just the way I liked it. Simultaneously, his staff hit me at the exact spot that had me quickly spinning out of control.

"Mors… Oh fuck …"

"You're dripping, love. Your juices are sliding down my staff, soaking into the wood, filling every divot and channel, marking it with your hunger, giving me a part of you for eternity." He groaned. "I feel you too now, love. I can feel how badly you need to come, how good you feel right now. How much you want your god inside you."

I sobbed. "Yes, please. Mors… please."

His hand left my clit, then came down on my ass, hard, before it was back at my clit, spanking me there as well. I screamed and came, spasming around his staff while he soothed my clit with firm pressure, circling, rubbing, prolonging my orgasm.

"I won't give in." He pressed his hard cock against my bare ass, the fabric of his trousers rough against my tender flesh. "Because I won't lose you. And until you prove to me that you won't put your life at risk, I won't fuck you. Understand?"

I collapsed against the cool surface of the piano, breathing hard, and shuddered as he slid his staff from my body. It vanished, and he scooped me up in his arms. His cloak was still draped over him, and it hid his eyes. His face was all skull mask now, all Death. I snuggled closer, sliding my hand over his chest, and stared up at him, into the shadows of his hood, where not even the blue of his eyes glowed anymore. He meant what he said. He would deny us both until I proved myself the obedient little consort and did as he said.

"I get you're worried, I do." How could he not be after what he'd been through? "I promise I won't take any more risks, okay? But you can't expect me to stay locked up here when you're away from the castle."

"I expect you to stay here where it's safe unless I'm with you," he said.

"That's what I just said."

"No, it's not. I won't ever lock you up."

"What you're suggesting sounds pretty confining if you ask me."

"Which means the punishment stands." He held me closer. "It pains me as much as it does you to do this. Denying you goes against every part of me."

I flashed him a grin. "Oh, it pains you much more, my lord, and if you think I'm going down without a fight, you are sorely mistaken."