Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Death

Growling, I rushed down the stairs, across the wide entrance hall, and into the kitchen. "Where is she?" I barked at Egon. I felt her close, but she wasn't inside the castle.

He looked up from chopping vegetables and pointed his knife toward the door that led to the back garden. Of course that was where she was. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. She spent hours out there every week, tending her herbs; I should have known that was where she'd be. Still, my heart refused to slow until I saw her for myself.

Shoving the door open, I strode out to the gardens. The oxygen was punched from my lungs the moment I saw her.

She was on her hands and knees, her wild red hair tied back in a messy knot on top of her head. She was singing low, something I'd never heard before. The kind of music they probably listened to at the hellhounds' compound or the wolf shifter keep or while she was with those twisted fucking crows. Where all those males no doubt watched her, wanting her.

My fingers curled into tight fists just thinking about their eyes on her.

Hemlock poked his head up from behind one of the bushy herbs, and Zinnia chuckled, making my heart fucking squeeze.

The last few nights had been unbearable. I told her I was punishing her for her carelessness over her safety, and I was, but it was me who was suffering. Especially since she was taking every opportunity to tempt me.

I rubbed at the ache in my chest. The thought of her leaving me in a week's time for another month twisted my insides. Every time she came back, the month passed by faster than the last.

It always caused me pain when she left, but this time, above all others, felt the worst. So much had changed between us this last month, and I'd actually contemplated breaking our deal and forcing her to stay, but I never broke my word; it was part of the foundation of who I was. Not to mention, forcing her to stay would not only push her farther away from me, it would be breaking her trust, and she'd never forgive me.

I also could never hurt her in that way.

Biting back a groan, I took her in. My body had reacted to the sight of her instantly. Gods, I wanted to lift her from the garden, pull her into the small orchard behind it, and claim her all over again, but I couldn't, not yet, not until she understood how important her safety was. She'd teased me about it again while we'd eaten dinner last night, making light of it. I didn't know why she insisted on testing me, but if she made light of something so important, how could I trust her to heed my warnings?

She glanced up then, spotting me, and stood.

I strode toward her. She was irresistibly beautiful, and her soul, it shone through her eyes, so bright and warm. It was all I needed—those eyes on me, that glimpse of her soul—and I was home.

I was no longer alone.

I missed you. The words lingered on my tongue, but I didn't speak them. I'd seen her less than an hour ago, but the way I felt about her, it surpassed love or any descriptive word for the emotion. What I felt for her surpassed explanation. "Your garden looks healthy," I said instead of all the other things flying around my head and filling my heart.

"Checking up on me?" she said, dusting her hands off on her jeans.

Yes . "No. I was simply passing by and saw you." She was looking at me as if she didn't believe me. I brushed my hand over a particularly bushy plant. "So what's this one for?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

No other being made me feel this mortal, or what I assumed it felt like to be mortal, than the female staring up at me, her lips quirked up on one side. The last three weeks, the shadows had receded more and more. It'd been so long, so long in the darkness, consumed by rage, I'd forgotten who I was. Until Zinnia. Until she drew me from the cloak and touched my soul.

"Do you really want to know? Or are you just trying to cover up that you were, in fact, checking up on me?"

She was making fun of me again, and I liked it. I was also interested. I was interested in every part of her. "I want to know." Hemlock poked his head up again, squeaked, and lifted onto his back legs. I scooped him up. The tiny rat seemed to like me. Zinnia watched as I placed him on my shoulder, and he tucked himself in close, but she didn't comment.

"Okay… well, this one here is licorice. I use it in a few of my healing tinctures. The root is good for an upset stomach, for example," she said and pointed to the one beside it. "This one, on the other hand, will give you an upset stomach if used… irresponsibly." She smirked. "So watch yourself, my lord, or you may find yourself making frequent and urgent visits to the bathroom."

"Are you threatening me with diarrhea, little witch?" I said and fought a grin.

"Possibly."

"Threatening your consort is never a good idea, especially when he's a god." I tilted my head to the side, studying her pretty lips. "Do you require more correction, do you think?"

Her face flushed, and my body heated with hers. "That would be a no, thank you. Correction doesn't work on me. I have my own mind, and no amount of spanking from you will change it."

"Apparently not." I took a step closer. "It will make you come very hard, though, won't it, Zinnia?"

She grinned wider. "Tell me, my lord, exactly how blue are your balls? Still planning on holding out to teach me a lesson, or have I been punished enough?"

She enjoyed mocking me, playing, teasing, and I liked that as well, even if I feared she didn't take the reason behind my actions seriously. "My balls are fine, thank you, love. I have my hand and images of you riding my cock locked away in here." I tapped the side of my head. "So I'll survive just fine." It was a lie. I was suffering so goddamn badly. "But if you're struggling, a quick blood oath will put this all behind us, and I'll happily spend the next few days in bed curling your very pretty toes."

Her smile slipped. "I'm not doing that."

I wanted to fucking snarl, to demand she do it, to drop to my knees and fucking beg her to let me keep her safe. "Why?"

"You really don't get it?"

"I really don't," I said and had to fight back the growl in my voice.

She planted her hands on her hips. "Because I'm your consort, Mors, we're supposed to be partners… even if the power dynamic is so unbalanced, it's ridiculous. And even if my time with you here is most likely limited, I will not be bound by oaths and forced to obey you like a prisoner, not anymore. Why can't you understand that?"

I understood it, but history told me not to believe in good intentions or promises from those I loved. When someone cared for you in return, risking their lives for you was nothing. It didn't matter that I was a god and she was mortal. She'd already shown me she was prepared to walk into an unknown, dangerous situation when she thought I needed her. Things had progressed. She felt my emotions when they were elevated or I was distressed—something she'd already proven—which was why a blood oath was more important than ever.

The look on her face, though, was one I recognized well. She would not back down, not yet, and if we carried on with this conversation, she would only end up even more angry with me, and I didn't want that. I wanted her smiles and her teasing. I wanted her blushes and her soft looks. So fool that I was, I chose to change the subject back to her garden. "I will attempt to," I said, lying through my teeth. "This garden, it's really important to you, isn't it?"

She stared up at me for several moments, knowing exactly what I was doing and deciding if she wanted to call me out on it or let the subject drop. She blew out a frustrated breath but went with the change of subject. "Creating a garden is the first thing a witch does when she moves to a new home, especially when she's mated or married," Zinnia said. "On our mating or wedding day, we're given a small pot with a vervain plant in it to start our new garden."

"Why that herb in particular?"

"The leaves of the vervain and its tiny purple flowers can be used to protect against evil spells and negative energy. It can also be used to purify our homes and has many medicinal uses. Vervain represents home and family—love." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "When a witch takes it out of the pot and plants it in her garden, though, is the most significant."

"Explain," I said, searching her face, struggling to read the look in her eyes and hating that I didn't know what she was thinking.

"We only plant the vervain in our new gardens when it feels like home. That one herb provides us with nearly everything we need to take care of and protect our families… so we only plant them when we're sure that's where we are, with family. When we're with the people we choose to love."

I looked down at the plants flourishing in her garden. "Which one is vervain?" I asked.

She was silent. I looked back up.

Her gaze held mine. "I don't have one."

I swallowed abruptly. Of course not. Of course she didn't have one. Words escaped me as she stared up at me.

"We didn't have a mating ceremony, Mors, and my family didn't send me off with my new husband holding a tiny pot of vervain after an epic party. That's not what this is… This is no love story for the ages."

My heart physically ached at her words.

You have no idea, little witch.

The answer to all of this was mixed up in those words. She had the answer to how this ended, how it could end, but she just had to surrender to it, to let me in.

She just had to choose me.