Chapter 16

Ifroze on the road outside the castle, forced to choose between being murdered by these three men or being caught in the crimson glow of Nightmare's magic again. In the end, the gravelly-voiced man threw me over his shoulder and took the choice out of my hands, and thank fuck he had. Any longer and Nightmare would have reached me.

I didn't know what she wanted, but it couldn't be good. Cold trickled down my arms, lifting fine hairs as I helplessly followed the riders through a massive wooden door into an endless warren of hallways and rooms. Their horses had gone up in smoke, literally. One second they were there, the next gone.

The gentle man who'd held me as we rode was nothing like I'd expected. He was tall and broad and so unfairly handsome that it was hard to keep my eyes off him. He'd just kidnapped me, kind of, and the last thing I should be doing was tracing my eyes over the planes of smooth, brown skin, the mouth curved into a patient smile, the eyes watching me with an endless well of kindness I wasn't sure was a lie. I definitely did not look at his wide shoulders, his powerful biceps, or the way the sleeveless, embroidered tunic he wore stretched across his chest.

I jumped when his hand skimmed my forearm, and panic at getting caught looking held me in place as his touch travelled down, fingers intertwining with mine. I remembered the reverent kisses he placed on my body while we rode, though I tried very hard not to. It was the most intimate I'd been with someone in months, and I didn't know how to feel about wanting more of it.

"What's your name, my bride?" he asked, his voice like caramel—sweet, rich, and addictive. I bit my bottom lip.

I swallowed, nerves making my pulse race. They'd just ostensibly saved me from Nightmare, and my paranoia suggested it could all be one big set-up to get me to trust them, but… I didn't have Nightmare's sharp eyes on me right now, didn't have her soft taunts in my ears, didn't feel the heavy thump of her power, and I was so grateful for that.

"Cat," I answered quietly.

"Like a pussy cat?" he asked, his smile deepening, making him even more handsome. Ugh.

"Yeah," I said too quickly. "Like a pussy cat."

"That was an obvious lie," the man with the gravelly voice said, spinning to face us where he walked ahead, like he'd been waiting for an excuse to look at me. He kept doing that. Looking at me. Touching me. "What secrets are you keeping, Cat?"

I scowled at the floor, looking away from his face—equally handsome as the others' but different, harsher. His features were soft but sharpened by his shaved head and tattoos, his mouth set in what appeared to be a perpetual smirk. His golden skin and glittering soft-brown eyes, made me think of Central America. He was also far closer to my five-foot-seven height, which would make kissing him easier and why was I thinking about kissing him? It was similar to the force that had propelled me out of the car, Nightmare's magic brushing my soul but… I wasn't compelled. Not completely. And—oh god, he was right in front of me.

I slammed to a halt in the middle of a dark corridor lit by green lamps and jumped back with a shriek, his face exceptionally close. I could see the flecks in his eyes, his irises the colour of milky coffee and—my latte! Fuck, I abandoned it in the middle of the road with my car. And my book!1

"What's your name really?" he asked with an intensity that made me break out in goosebumps.

"Cat," I answered, my breath a little short. "Cat Wallison."

"Mm." He flicked out his tongue, so close to brushing my lips. A shot of heat laced my blood. "No, I still taste the lie."

"You can't taste lies, don't bullshit," the pale, long-haired man said with a sneer that made me instantly dislike him.

"My name's Tor," said the man two inches away from my face with the shaved head and sexy intensity.2 "This is Miz. And um—"

He glanced at the six-foot-three man towering over us, all beauty and sincerity.

"Death," I finished for him, gratified by their shock. "Yeah, I figured that out by you all calling me your bride. I was dressed as the bride of death the night Nightmare… well, I'd rather not talk about what happened. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together and get Death."

"We already know what happened," Death said gently, squeezing my hand. I jumped. I'd forgotten he was even holding it; the sensation was so natural, so right. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He wasn't what I'd expected of Death. The spiked helmet and horror horse or whatever Tor called them was more accurate. But this softness was … strange.

"Let's get you a drink, and we'll explain who we are to you," he suggested kindly, dropping a kiss on my forehead that stunned me into compliance.

The pale-haired man said nothing throughout this, only speared me with disapproving glances as we moved through the castle that was surprisingly ordinary and solid brick, not shadowy or smoky like the horses. I avoided his stares, barely keeping my breathing under control without getting into a staring match with a man who obviously hated me.

But… were these actually men, or something else, something more sinister like Nightmare? The man beside me was Death. The Death. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I knew it meant I was his bride and he was my… husband? Fuck, I didn't know. I wished Honey and Byron were here with a fierceness that made my chest hurt.

I saw what Death did to the gates to stop Nightmare following us. The dark magic, like a veil of ink stretched across the iron, with people inside fighting to get out, hands and faces pressed to the surface. I shuddered, and gasped when Death stroked a hand across my shoulder blades, a weight settling over me.

Fear made my throat tighten. I glanced down at the cloak of feathers that flowed from my shoulders to the floor, warm and reassuring despite its terrifying origin.

"Thanks," I mumbled automatically. Shit, should I be thanking these people? Were they like the fae where expressing gratitude implied a debt I'd have to pay?

"Don't worry so much, Cat," he murmured, fingers stroking down my hair next. No feathers or darkness gathered around me this time, the gesture simple. Comforting in a way I didn't want it to be, and entirely blamed on Nightmare's fucked up magic tying us together. "You're safe here. You have my word no one will hurt you."

I glanced at him quickly, looking for signs of deceit and really struggling to find any. Maybe he believed what he was saying. Maybe Nightmare was playing a game with all of us, and had tricked them into caring about me. Her face formed in my mind, unnaturally beautiful, her eyes mismatched, the pale one bleeding down her flawless cheek as she smiled. I shuddered and pulled the cloak of black feathers tighter around me.

"Here we are, Cat," Tor said, my name soft and lingering in his mouth. He guided us through a stone archway and into a warm sitting room decorated in shades of amber and red, a fire roaring in a huge gothic fireplace across the room. Above it hung a portrait of the three of them. In the portrait, Miz was smiling at Death, his eyes a bright, piercing gold, his cheeks curved, one arm slung around Tor's waist.

Oh. I blinked, looking quickly away from the painting, like I'd glimpsed something private I wasn't supposed to. They were all together, intimate and clearly possessing a deep affection. What did that make me, as Death's bride? A homewrecker? No wonder Miz hated me.

But why didn't Tor? His latte eyes still shone with an intensity I hesitantly labelled interest as he swept me away from Death, the tall, gentle man holding onto my hand until he was forced to surrender it. I was bundled onto one of the plush, amber-coloured sofas, my taut body immediately swallowed into comfort and luxury. Tor plopped down beside me and—stared at me, his elbow propped on his knee, chin propped on his hand.

Uh. Okay.

"What's it short for, beautiful bride?"

I glanced away, my cheeks hot at his constant attention, nervousness tightening my chest. "Cactus," I begrudgingly admitted.

Miz snorted, sinking onto a sofa opposite us and watching as Death approached a drinks trolley shaped like St. Paul's Cathedral, opening the dome to draw out a bottle of gold liquid the same colour as Miz's eyes. At least in the painting. I daren't look at the actual man long enough to see if they were the same in real life.

"My cute little succulent," Tor breathed with something like fascination. I stared at him in surprise and a little like he was insane.3

"Here, Cat," Death murmured, catching my hand to place a glass in it, handing another to Miz when he sat beside the pale, stiff-backed man. I watched him thaw, surprised to see it at all, when Death rested his broad hand on his knee. "So," he said, watching me, "you know I'm Death. But you might not know what that means."

"Probably that you can kill me," I muttered, then took a quick drink when it came out a little louder than planned.

"I can kill anyone with a single touch and a flicker of magic," Death agreed with a smile that struck me as sad. "I don't kill everyone, obviously, or there'd be no one left in the world. Most die naturally, and arrive in my domain of their own will. But it's my job to kill those who stubbornly cling to life when their time is up. To maintain the balance of life and death in the world. A balance," he added, "that Nightmare has thrown into chaos."

I swallowed, then drank more of the burning golden liquid. It wasn't pleasant, but I needed the warmth when this conversation made me so cold inside. "Did you kill the people at the party?"

"No," Death replied with clear irritation. "And neither did their souls arrive here. She consumed them."

"Consumed," I echoed, the cold spreading further inside me. "I think I—felt it. Like a sick heartbeat. They died and then it was all I could hear, feel…"

Tor slid closer to me. I jumped when his arm came around me, holding tight to my body, my new feathered cloak trapped between us.

"How do you tie into this?" I asked, looking at each of them. "I'm not an idiot; Nightmare turns up, kills people, and suddenly you're here racing to my rescue."

Tor held me tighter, like he was trying to hold off the inevitable and stop me pulling away from him.

"We're here because of what Nightmare did," Death said gently, his grey eyes heavy, sad. "Nightmare is consumed with a thirst for power, and she'll stop at nothing to get it. This isn't the first time she's gathered a cult, enacted a ritual, and killed people. I'm so sorry you were caught up in it."

"She said it could have been anyone," I murmured, turning the glass in my hand. "It just happened to be me because I picked the bride of death costume."

"It's all a twisted game to her," Miz said with a low laugh, throwing back the contents of his glass and pushing off the sofa to get more. "She likes playing with people, pushing them to the edge of their limits and seeing what happens when they break."

"Miz…" Tor murmured, watching him.

"She cursed you," Miz said harshly, pinning me with a look that made my heart quicken, my whole body prickling with warning. "Everyone who was there that night is cursed. That's why you're wearing an illusion—you look normal on the surface, but deep down you are hers and your face shows the truth."

"Misery," Death said, soft and steely at once. "This is not the way to tell her."

Miz—Misery—laughed high and sharp. "She'll find out either way. It's better that she knows the truth instead of you dancing around it." He looked me in the eye. "Nightmare caught you up in her ritual, bound you to be the bride of Death—which means you are the bride of all three of us—and now she can find you anywhere and do whatever the fuck she wants with you. She owns you, Cactus."

For the first time, I didn't cringe from my name. I was too afraid to even feel embarrassment over it. "How do I undo it?" I breathed, shaking.

Misery shook his head, his beautiful face cold. "You don't."