Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DEATH

A whisper caressed my consciousness, like a stroke along my soul, and I jerked so abruptly that the pinking shears in my hand snipped off the rose I'd been pruning. Shit. My mouth tightened as I watched it tumble to the grass of my beloved garden, but that whisper came again, less like a caress this time than a wrenching tug.

The second I understood what it was, I threw down the shears and rushed to my feet, darkness already streaking the air around me. I needed to tell Tor and Miz I was leaving, needed to tell them so they wouldn't panic, but common sense flew out the window the moment I realised Cat was calling my name.

There was a certain magic between me and anyone who knew my name, and it had a direct line to my power. The darkness thrashed urgently around me, making the tulips and peonies dance in its wind. Cat wasn't calling for me casually—she was afraid. I felt it through my power, heard it in her voice when I reached for the thread of connection and held it tight.

"I'm coming, little bride," I promised and hoped she heard me.

A single finger crooked at my power was enough to engulf me in darkness. I let it take me, following the call of Cat's voice to a dark, foreboding corridor that made even me uneasy. A shrill alarm rang through the air, stabbing my eardrums, but I moulded my darkness into a dome to block out the awful din.

"Cat," I murmured, a single glance at her telling me she was terrified. She shook from head to toe, pink-laced white hair shivering where it spilled down her back, her body locked in a fraught line beneath her black jeans and hoodie. I didn't miss the knife in her hand, but it was clean of blood.

She spun at the sound of my voice, a heartbreaking cry in the back of her throat, small and whimpering. Her face was bleached by fear in the dull light coming from her phone, her eyes glassy with tears. I was already opening my arms when she threw herself at me, my hand coming up to cradle the back of her head when she collided with me.

Finally, every part of my body and soul cried. Finally, she's back where she's supposed to be.

"Can you take me to my room?" she asked in a small voice, trembling in my arms.

I pressed her face against my shoulder and wrapped the darkness around us, sweeping us from one building to another. I hated her new room, hated the emptiness and lack of Cat in it. It was blank and uninviting, and I worried its depressing appearance mirrored her mental state after losing Byron.

When the shadows fell away, I brushed a strand of tear-damp hair from her face and peered into her eyes. "What happened?"

Her throat bobbed, reluctance crossing her face with no small amount of panic, but she didn't pull away. "Someone locked me in. They followed me there. I don't know who."

Rage darkened my vision for a moment, and I had to physically rein in the urge to hunt whoever had scared my girl and rip their head from their neck. I wasn't supposed to deal death personally, just handle those who died, but it hadn't stopped me before when it came to the people I loved.

Loved. Did I love Cat? I wished the answer was easy, wished it was clear. I knew my feelings before that night on the moors, but the curse had changed us. It made her my wife, connected us in ways I didn't quite realise at the time. With it gone, that connection was gone, too. And if Cat had never really cared for Tor and Miz, how could I be sure I cared for her?

"Why were you in the building in the middle of the night?" I asked, dragging myself out of the dark mire of my thoughts. "It's not safe, even with the curse dropped."

Her pale throat bobbed as she pulled away from me, slumping onto the edge of her bed. My hands flexed, missing the warmth of her. "I left my laptop in a lecture hall."

The only thing she held was her phone and the knife. I sighed, fighting back another wave of anger. "And you couldn't get it because you were followed. Tell me where it is, little bride, and I'll go get it for you."

"No," she said too quickly, a flash of panic in her eyes that had answering panic clenching my stomach. She wouldn't meet my eyes even when I stood in front of her, even when I knelt before her.

"What's going on?" I asked as gently as I could, a pain cinching my chest. Why would Cat be sneaking into a campus building under cover of darkness?

"Please don't ask," she breathed.

I moulded my hand to her cheek, my heart cracking when she leaned into the touch, her eyes falling shut, creased with pain. I prayed Tor was right in thinking he could win her affection back, because in that moment with her arching into my touch like she was starved of it, I knew I couldn't let her go. But there was no having me without having Misery and Torment, too.

"I need you to tell me, Cat, or I can't help you."

"You can't help me anyway," she said without opening her eyes. There were shadows around them, and exhaustion cut into her face, lining the slouch of her body. "No one can. But I—I think I can do it. I know I can."

I didn't like the sound of that at all. Cat sneaking around at night, keeping secrets, unable to tell me what she was doing… it had the hallmarks of Nightmare all over it.

Fuck it.

I rose from the floor and sat beside her, pulling her onto my lap. I had to bite back a groan at how fucking perfect she felt, but this wasn't about what I wanted, this was about comforting my girl when she was obviously shaken.

I needed to stop calling her my girl. I didn't even know what we were. Not together, not the way we were. She wasn't my bride. But she was my friend, and I could hug my friends, right?

"You don't have to stay, I'll be fine," she murmured, but she rested her head on my chest and the way she softened in my hold told me she needed this. Needed me.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong. Why were you out so late? You could have been hurt, little bride. What if the animal that killed your therapist followed you?"

She shivered, and I regretted scaring her more, but if Nightmare had gotten to her, if the goddess was making her break into locked buildings at night, we had a bigger problem than monsters.

"I needed to find something," she answered after a long pause, her hands knitted together in her lap. "For a friend."

"Not your laptop."

"No," she whispered. "I don't like lying to you but I—it needs to be a secret. I'm sorry."

I tightened my arms around her, sighing deeply, and pulled her peaches and cream scent into my lungs on my next inhale. I missed her so fucking much. Even with her in my arms, I wanted her closer, wanted everything. Which should have told me enough about my feelings for her, but the doubts lingered.

"I don't like secrets, Cat," I murmured, my heart fluttering when she pressed her face into my chest, the very tips of her fingers curling into the ragged black T-shirt I wore to garden in. I ought to have put on something more appropriate to meet a beautiful woman— my beautiful woman, my soul cried in defiance—than a holey shirt and black sweatpants, but I hadn't exactly been thinking straight. And she needed me.

I dared to kiss the top of her head. "Please tell me."

"I can't," she insisted, her voice thick, strangled. "I want to, but I can't tell you. I won't."

I recoiled. Right. We weren't together anymore, weren't anything but friends, and clearly, I wasn't the kind of friend she confessed all her fears to.

It hurt, more than I would have expected.

"I would start and end wars to keep you safe," I breathed, the truth slipping free without my permission. "I would do anything to ease your mind."

Cat peered up at me, blinking back a silver sheen of tears. So beautiful, so sad, so—alone. She looked lonely, and I only recognised it because I saw the expression so often in Miz. Two of the people I loved were suffering, and both refused to let me in. How could I help them when they'd built a brick wall around themselves?

I shouldn't have done it. I knew that the moment I cupped her face, my thumb stroking her cheek. I knew it when I dipped my head, knew it when she tipped her face up towards me, a plea in pale grey eyes. It would end in disaster and heartbreak but that didn't stop me kissing her.

It wasn't enough. A single press, a simple brush of her lips on mine, the softness of her both welcome and painful.

I would have withdrawn after that simple touch, but the desperate sound in Cat's throat convinced me to stay, to give her more. I decided to give her everything the second she twisted on my lap to straddle me, her fingers hooking in my worn shirt.

She kissed me with a ferocity and need that made my blood catch fire. I squeezed her hip, dragging her flush to me as she caught my bottom lip in her teeth, not asking for more or even demanding it, but taking it for herself. The second her taste exploded on my tongue, I was gone, a deep groan in the back of my throat and my cock hard in an instant.

"Please," she gasped into my mouth, arching into my body as she kissed me hard and deep. "Please don't ask for answers I can't give. Just—this. Please."

I was powerless to resist her. I needed this, and I'd suffer whatever fractures it formed through my heart later. I wrapped my hands around her waist and ignored the pinch of longing, the wish that Miz and Tor were here with us, too.

"Just this," I promised, but I knew that was a promise I couldn't keep. Nightmare had got to her somehow, and I wouldn't rest until I found out what she'd done. But for now, I laid Cat out on her bed, soaking up the sight of her flushed and needy and so fucking beautiful it would kill me if I wasn't Death.

I took my time running my hands down her thighs, scraping my fingernails down the denim and watching her squirm. I knew this would be a fast joining, knew we were too impatient, too desperate to take our time, but I enjoyed teasing her now, enjoyed the involuntary jolt in her hips when I met her eyes.

Tor was right. It didn't matter what was between us before, whether it was all curse-induced or real. Everything from this moment on was real, and I would win her affection back. I started by sliding the tight denim down her legs and settling my hips between them, pulling the hoodie over her head but leaving it tangled around her wrists.

"Death," she breathed, a shiver running through her, clasping her legs around me when I pinned her bound hands on the pillow above her. She could get free if she wanted but we both knew she wouldn't.

"Hm," I said, luxuriating in the feel of her soft, warm skin as I stroked up and down her bare legs, the heat of her pussy hitting me even through my sweatpants. "Is that my name, little one?" I met her gaze and held eye contact until her breathing turned choppy, letting my dominance show.

"No," she whispered, her eyes fluttering when I pushed up the vest she'd worn beneath her hoodie, adding that to her bindings. Her bra I handled with razor tips of shadow on my fingers, shredding the straps and the delicate fastening at the front until it fell away, baring her to me.

My bride, my heart roared, but that wasn't true. Mine, it countered, and yes, she was mine.

All fucking mine.

The sight of her chest heaving tempted me to suck one of her breasts into my mouth. I groaned at the taste of her, the feel of her nipple hardening with each circle my tongue made.

"Death, please," she gasped.

I bit that sensitive peak, enough to make her jump but not enough to draw blood. "Try again, little one."

I flicked my stare up at her flushed face as I moved to her other breast, sucking and licking until my tongue memorised the taste of her, until she was squirming under me. Her hands struggled at her bindings in a clear plea for me to remove them so she could touch me. I didn't, scraping my teeth over her nipple, a dark enjoyment uncoiling in the pit of my stomach at how completely under my control she was right now.

"Daddy, please," she whined, rolling her hips against mine, dragging the fierce heat of her pussy over my cock.

Fuck. I couldn't take any more. By denying her, I was denying myself, and I'd been without her for too fucking long.

I scraped my teeth over her sensitive areola as I let go, the sight of her reddened skin so satisfying that a low sound escaped me. Her eyes were wide when I glanced up at her face, her pupils dilated, mouth parted. Mine.

I summoned a swarm of darkness to remove my clothes and the second my cock was freed, I pulled her underwear to the side, angled her thighs wider, and sank inside her.

Heat. Heaven. Hell.

Fuck, how had I gone so long without her? The deep sound that punched from my chest spoke of relief and homecoming, an admission I wasn't ready or willing to make. I never wanted to stop, never wanted her scent to leave my lungs, never wanted her wet, needy pussy to stop fluttering around my cock.

"My little one," I groaned, giving her slow strokes that quickly gave way to hard, fast fucking. My control was in tatters. "My fucking girl."

"Yours," she whimpered, her eyes never leaving me, her tits bouncing with each possessive thrust. I seized her hips, hauling her closer, and was treated to the sight of her eyes crossing.

"Is that angle good, little one?" I wasted no time in abusing that new weakness, gripping her hard enough to leave marks as I drove my cock into her over and over, making sure to hit that spot each time. "Oh, fuck yeah, you like that."

She tightened on my cock, the soft heat of her fucking maddening as her muscles rippled faster and faster, the throbs deeper, more powerful. A tingle started at the base of my spine, promising sheer fucking bliss, but I wasn't ready for this to end yet. I wanted to ruin her, wanted her shaking and messy and in no doubt that she belonged to me.

"Please," she blurted, reaching for me with her bound hands. "Please, please—"

"You want to come for me? Is that what you're asking, my bride?"

Not my bride. Not anymore. But that was hard to remember with the delicious suction of her cunt all around me and the shiver-inducing feeling of her thighs clasping my hips.

"Yes!" Cat's next whine was almost a scream, so loud that it went straight to my ego. I didn't let my angle change even a fucking millimetre, frantic to feel her orgasm, greedy for the sight of it on her face.

"If you want to come," I said, brushing her clit with my thumb, a smile curving my lips when she arched off the bed, "you need to be a good girl and ask."

Her eyes rolled back, a tight shudder rocking her whole body. "Oh, please—" Her words were taut, fast, desperate. "Please can I come?"

"You can come," I allowed, smiling when her back arched off the bed again, her mouth hanging open as her pussy clenched around my cock over and over. The waves of ecstasy made her convulse under me. She was so fucking beautiful, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.

A loud moan hung between us, raspy and deep and so fucking sexy. I waited until she fell back to the bed, then wrapped my hand around her throat, pressing her head into the pillow as I drove my hips into hers with enough force to ram the headboard into the wall.

Her eyes slammed shut, her pussy still gripping me, pleasure pulsing through her with every thrust. Good. I wanted her ruined and messy and mine.

"Please, please," she chanted, her head thrown back, tendons stretched in her pretty throat. I wasn't sure if she wanted mercy or wanted to come again. I wasn't sure if she'd ever stopped coming from the first orgasm.

Her hands were trapped between us, her vulnerable neck at my mercy. She could only moan and plead as I took her exactly how I wanted, imprinting the shape of my cock, my body, my kisses on her so she'd never forget me again.

"So fucking good for me," I groaned, dragging my lips up her jaw to her swollen mouth. "Such a good girl, my good girl."

Her breath hitched and then she was coming again, her inner muscles strangling my cock, not encouraging my release so much as demanding it, dragging it from me whether I liked it or not. I fucking loved it. Loved her.

Her mouth found mine as we reached mutual devastation, lips wrapping around my tongue, pulling it into her mouth so I could claim her there, too. There was no part of her that didn't completely and utterly belong to me, and I assured her of that fact with every stuttering thrust as I came so hard I couldn't breathe. Sparks and stars and fireworks—I saw them all behind my eyes.

It wasn't a sweet kiss, wasn't loving and slow—it was animalistic and possessive. When I drew back, when her mortal body demanded air, a line of spit still connected us. I licked it off her tongue, a deep sound of approval in my throat at the way her mouth dropped open, her tongue hanging out for more. Beautiful, responsive, and needy, but not nearly messy enough. But there was plenty of time for that; I wasn't going anywhere.

I wasn't going to leave until my girl was a sweaty ragdoll covered in my cum. Because she was mine, no matter what curse had drawn us together and torn us apart. The past didn't matter when my future had her in it.

"Death," she breathed, blinking at me. "Will you stay?"

I crashed my mouth into hers, frantic for all her kisses. "I'm not going anywhere. You were so perfect for me, so beautifully submissive, so good. And good girls deserve rewards, don't they?"

She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip. "I don't think I can come again."

My smile deepened. "As long as you're conscious, you can come."

Her eyes widened.

Yes, little one, I'm not stopping until you pass out.