Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Zinnia

Eighteen months later

A roar echoed down the hall, and I shot up in bed. It was deep and filled with agony and sent ice shooting down my spine. Hemlock scurried onto my lap; my familiar was the fiercest little rat in existence, but even he found those roars of pain unsettling. I ran my hand down his back to soothe us both.

The sound of Death's bedroom door opening was closely followed by the heavy thud of his boots as he strode past my room and down to his brother.

Somnus, his twin and the personification of sleep, lived in the castle as well. I'd yet to see him awake, though, and sometimes, like tonight, he roared and made awful noises for hours, as if the god were being flayed alive in his dreams.

He was also how Death first visited me when I was just a teenager, so it was a good thing he stayed asleep because the god was not one of my favorite people.

Hemy ran up my arm and tucked himself against my neck. There'd be no sleep tonight for anyone, not with Somnus having one of his episodes.

Sliding my hand under the pillow, I grabbed my knife, scooped up Hemlock, and slipped out of bed. Easing the door open, I checked that the way was clear, then rushed down the hall.

Somnus's door was ajar, and I could hear Death's voice rumbling low from inside. Just hearing him talk used to make me tremble in fear and horror. Yes, there was still some fear, and on occasion, I was overcome by the volatile emotions that he was able to evoke in me, but I'd been coming and going from this place long enough now that I'd managed to gain some control over my responses to him. Well, I had until I arrived back a week ago. I'd gone to the library to let him know I'd returned as instructed and found Death without his cloak. I'd never seen him without it before and it wasn't something I'd ever forget.

"You came," he said, his voice rolling over me like thunder.

Words he said every single time. It took me several attempts to reply. I was having trouble catching my breath. "L-like I had a choice," I said, like I always did, but this time, my voice shook.

He carefully placed his glass on the mantel and turned to me, firelight dancing across his features.

I took an abrupt step back. Mors was… terrifying, his features etched by violence and carved by death, and so utterly beautiful, it was hard to look at him.

His face was free of ink, and he had a prominent nose, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and sensual dark crimson lips.

"Your robe?" I rasped.

"I no longer require it."

He'd said it in that deep, terror-evoking voice, shaking me to the depths of my core, and offered nothing more. After eighteen months of not knowing what he looked like beneath that dark shroud that covered him from head to foot, it had been a major shock, and it was still taking some getting used to.

Before the cloak came off, all I knew was the brutal intensity and raw power that poured off him. I hadn't been able to see the way he watched me or, goddess, feel the lightning strike when his glacial gaze pierced right through me. Every time that stare locked on mine, it caused shards of ice to shoot through my chest and down to my gut, and since finding him like that, I'd felt as off-balance as I had the first time I'd come here.

The god was inscrutable, watchful, stubborn, infuriating, and confusing as hell, and I didn't know him any better now than I did that first cold, wintry night he'd brought me to his castle. In fact, somehow, I knew him even less.

Doing my best to ignore the constantly moving shadows and the weight of a multitude of invisible eyes watching me, I darted into the library, shut the door, and climbed into the massive leather chair that sat in front of the always-blazing fire. Curling up, I dragged the fur that Egon left draped over the wide arm for me across my lap while Hemy scurried down from his spot tucked against my neck, settling in under it as well. I didn't know what it was about this room, but spending time in here was the closest thing to peace I'd found inside this castle. Maybe it was all the books, the smell of leather, that reminded me of home, of the library in Aunt Daisy's house or the rows of spell and recipe books in Aunt Else's workroom.

The book I'd been reading was still in its spot, on the deep mahogany table beside the chair, and I picked it up—

Somnus roared again, so loud that the windows rattled. Hemlock trembled, and a cold chill skated down my spine.

I covered Hemy's back with my hand to calm him. I hadn't known if it was safe for him here in Limbo the first time I came, so I'd left my tiny familiar at home. It'd been extremely hard on both of us.

But this was my life now.

Even though my family at home in Roxburgh was still desperately trying to find a way to get me out of this bargain, I knew there was no escape.

And deep down, I thought they did too. Jazzy's twenty-first birthday would be here before we knew it, and my visits home would end. I'd be trapped here in Limbo with Death, in this castle, for the rest of my life.

I ran my fingers over the scar on my forearm, where I'd cut out the markings given to me by a demon—a different bargain that had kept me hidden from Death for thirteen years until I couldn't hide anymore. The price I'd paid for it was immense, but even then, deep down, I'd known my reprieve was only temporary.

In the end, it had all been my choice—protecting my cousin, my coven; leaving my sister; and coming here. Yes, an impossible one, but a choice all the same, and one I'd make again and again.

That meant I had to make my peace with it, with saying goodbye for good, with never seeing my family or Jasmine ever again.

* * *

I woke to the clink of ice against crystal.

Blinking the sleepiness away, I lifted my head from the arm of the chair, and my heart immediately leaped into my throat before I snatched up my knife.

Death stood in front of the fire, a drink in hand—watching me.

I sat up straighter. My body had instantly sensed the threat and reacted before my mind fully had a chance to engage. His gaze dipped to the knife now gripped in my hand, his brow lifting. I shrugged. What did he expect?

He was shirtless, as he often was now, in only a pair of black trousers that sat low on his hips. I tried not to stare at the shadows the fire created on his skin or the way they danced over the taut ridges of his muscled chest, but it was hard. That smooth, hairless, inked body was as beautiful and terrifying as the rest of him. The very thought of touching him was so utterly absurd and wrong and frightening, it was laughable. It'd be like petting a beast capable of eating you whole or swimming in lava or touching the sun—unthinkable.

He took a sip of his drink and ran a hand over his tattooed skull.

I waited for him to say something; he didn't.

Death looked tired.

The room was still dimly lit, but it was morning. There was no sun here in Limbo; there was the illusion of one, though, and light filtered through the arched windows.

"A little early for that, isn't it?" I said, eyeing the amber liquid in his glass instead of looking directly at him. I couldn't take the silence any longer, not with all that turbulent energy radiating from him.

"You didn't sleep in your bed," he said, ignoring my comment.

"What gave it away?"

He ignored my sarcasm. "Why?"

"Because I didn't want to." Hemlock poked his head out from under the fur. He'd become bolder around Death lately, and I'd noticed a look in his cute, beady eyes that was beginning to look alarmingly a lot like worship when he gazed at our jailer.

"Somnus kept you awake?" he asked.

"He kept the whole castle awake." If it wasn't Somnus screaming in his sleep, it was Death playing his piano—dark and mournful songs that I'd never heard before and made you want to curl in a ball and sob. I shoved the fur aside and stood, holding Hemy to me. "I need a shower."

"You will eat first. Meet me in the dining room in fifteen minutes."

I paused, fighting down my natural instinct to tell him to go fuck himself and his orders, but I'd been there and done that, and it'd gotten me nowhere, so I bit back what I wanted to say and carried on toward the door.

Are you just going to roll over and stop fighting?

No, I wasn't. I would never stop. If I wanted a goddamn shower first, I'd have one. I turned back to tell him so and froze.

Death had his back to me, facing the fire. He held the fur I'd been wrapped in all night in his hand—and it was pressed to his face.

I spun and darted off on silent feet. Death hadn't touched me, not in all the months I'd been coming here, even though he called me his consort. After that first night when nothing happened, I'd been relieved. Then, as the months drew on and still he didn't demand more from me, I'd actually started to feel… even more off-balance. Yes, I was thankful, but if not that, what did Death want from me? Why was I here?

Then he'd gone and taken off the cloak, after all this time, and I had no idea why or what it meant, but it had to mean something, right? And now he was smelling the fur I'd slept with?

I rubbed my arms, now covered in gooseflesh, and rushed into my room, shutting myself in.

The room he'd given me was large and filled with antiques and trinkets. It was like someone had just gotten up and walked out, leaving everything behind. It also had its own sitting area, but I didn't use it. I wasn't sure why, only that I got this odd, queasy feeling when I did and an ache in my chest that I didn't understand, which was why I preferred the library.

I sat Hemy on the bed that was shoved in the corner like an afterthought, snatched up some clothes, and quickly showered. I may be his prisoner, but I wasn't going to just give up and obey every one of his unreasonable demands. Still, I didn't linger. I needed to make a stand, but I didn't want to make him angry either.

Death was already sitting at the massive black lacquer table when I walked in.

He eyed me over his mug, gaze sliding from head to foot and back. "You ignored my order."

"Are you surprised?" I said and sat, smiling at Egon when he put a cup of tea in front of me, just the way I liked it, smelling of the fragrant herbs I'd grown.

I'd planted the herbs I needed in the kitchen garden. I was a witch—being without my herbs wasn't something I could tolerate. Death hadn't said anything when I'd brought a bagful of seedlings my third month coming here and made room for myself in his grounds. It was bad enough my medium powers were greatly hindered here, which was not surprising. I was in Limbo, after all. There was no need for souls to communicate with me; I didn't even know where the hell they were. Honestly, I had no idea how this realm worked. Thankfully, my magic was still okay.

"No," he said, his long, thick, tattooed fingers curling tighter around his mug. "I'd be more surprised if you actually did as I asked of you, consort."

"You don't ask—you demand. In case you haven't worked it out yet, I don't like orders." I smiled at Lyle, Egon's adult son, when he placed my overnight oats beside my tea. "Thanks, Lyle." He gave me a quick grin and hustled back to the kitchen.

"Eventually, you will learn my way is best," Death said. "In all things."

"Well, that's not going to happen," I said, scooping up a spoonful of oats and shoving it in my mouth. Something moved through his eyes; they kind of brightened, or maybe I was imagining it.

"Since we missed our evening drink, we'll make up for it now. I'll go first," he said.

Dammit, I'd hoped he'd forgotten. I shook my head. "You went first last time."

Death had pulled on a shirt—it was black—but he'd only done up a couple of buttons, so most of his chest was visible. It was as if he didn't like wearing clothes or could barely tolerate them. I wanted a better look at his tattoos, but I didn't want to stare. I'd caught glimpses of them but not a good look—again, because staring was not something I wanted him to catch me doing. The only one that was easy to see was the star that covered most of his chest. The center of it was decorated in swirls that created the appearance of shadows and light.

He sat back in his seat. "Your answer the night before was unsatisfactory. So I'll go first."

"And you gave me the same answer you do every time," I fired back.

"Because, so far, that has been the only answer required."

Our nightly drink took place in the library and consisted of us each asking the other a question. I'd refused when he'd first proposed it. The last thing I'd wanted was to spend any more alone time with Death. When I'd denied him, he'd raged for hours, throwing an epic tantrum. Then, when my cousin Magnolia had inadvertently pissed him off during her trial, I'd been forced to barter with him. The only way to save her from his wrath was to let him have his way. So I'd reluctantly agreed to question time.

From the moment I first came here, he'd been angry and intense and volatile. He still was, but since I returned a week ago, the anger wasn't rolling off him in hot waves like it had, and the volatile energy had calmed as well. It was still there but not as bad as before. Again, I wasn't sure why. This Death was different from the one I left the month before, and I wasn't quite sure how to deal with him.

I defied him—something I'd done since I first came here—but the Death sitting across from me now wasn't furious because I was bickering with him. He seemed almost… intrigued.

There had been questions I'd wanted to ask him but hadn't dared. I'd kept them simple for a reason. But without all the unhinged rage, I decided to try my luck. "Fine. I'll let you go first, but I get two questions."

He sat his mug down and rested his lightly clasped hands on the table. "Very well."

I was taken aback by his easy acquiescence.

The blue of his eyes grew darker and then stormy, the calm I stupidly thought I saw vanishing before my eyes. "Tell me, wife, how many males have you fucked?"

Inside, I flinched; outwardly, I showed nothing, or at least I hoped I hadn't. This was a turn I hadn't anticipated—not at all. I shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes."

"I'd have to count."

"I'll wait." He stared me down.

I tried not to squirm. What the fuck was this? Was this some kind of trap? Was he hoping for a virgin bride? I had no reason to lie, and I wouldn't, but this could be a good way to test this newish version of Death. I sat back and pretended I was having a hard time remembering, counting on my fingers. Was it stupid to rile Death? Absolutely. Had I been doing it anyway since I came here? Definitely. Finally, I sat forward and winked. "Less than ten."

"I want a number."

"More than five. I will say, my number would be a lot higher if I hadn't been so busy looking after my sister and working all the time. I've had more offers than I can count."

He set his mug down slowly. "Are you mocking me?"

"Of course not." I scooped another spoonful of oats. "Seven," I said, giving him his answer and shoving the oats in my mouth.

Fury etched his terrifyingly beautiful face, turning it utterly sinister. He didn't like that.

I gripped the edge of the table so he didn't see my hands tremble and forced a smirk. "Am I too much of a whore to be your consort now? By all means, send me back and forget I exist."

Darkness began to swirl around him. His cloak was made of moving shadows. Right now, they were barely there, but I saw them. His cloak gave away his moods—the more volatile he was feeling, the darker it became, wrapping around him. "Ask your questions," he said, voice filled with quiet menace.

I refused to be intimidated, even if I was trembling inside. "From what I understand, your mother created you and your brother rather than birthing you, turning you both into gods. Is that true?" My question obviously took him aback as well. He was used to my simple, no-stress questions. Nox, his and Somnus's mother, was the personification of night. I had yet to meet her, and from what little information I'd been able to find about her, that was a good thing.

"Yes," he said.

The passage I'd read said she'd created him and Somnus from light, that he'd existed before his godly status. "What were you before she made you a god?"

He went utterly still, studying me so closely, I had to fight not to whimper.

"A star," he finally said and stood.

I stared at him, unable to hide my surprise. "Like you were part of the universe?"

"Yes," he said. "I have something I need to attend to, if you'll excuse me," he said, then strode away, the dark shadows of his cloak flowing heavily around him as he left the room.