Foxglove (Belladonna, #2)(107)
From his expression to his posturing, everything about Fate bristled with agitation. Still, he must have sensed that Signa meant every word. “It is more than he deserves, but I will give you your night. Only one, to say goodbye.”
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Still, she crouched to pick up a shard of broken glass and pressed it into her thumb, waiting for the blood to swell before extending it to him. “Until the moment I bind myself to you, you must agree that you will allow me not only to see Death whenever, but to touch him without harm. Swear this to me, and that you will free Elijah the moment an oath is made, and you’ll have yourself a bride.”
“Signa—” Death reached for her, and her heart nearly shattered when she sidestepped him.
Fate did not smile but looked plainly upon her as he withdrew a needle from his vest pocket, pricking it into his thumb and pressing it to hers to seal the blood oath. “I agree to your terms.”
Fate was a fool if he thought this was how he was going to win. She didn’t know how long it would take, but eventually she would escape him. Eventually she’d find Death again, whether in this life or the next.
Signa turned to him, not caring that Fate and Blythe were watching. Not caring that they were in the middle of a dark ballroom surrounded by curious spirits and Fate’s marionettes as she took Death’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss onto his lips.
Signa hated that her first thought wasn’t of the kiss itself, but that she should commit the way his lips fit against hers to memory. That she should memorize every dip and curve of his bare skin beneath her fingertips, and the wash of coolness that settled over her. The tension in her body eased as Death drew her into his chest, winding his arms around her.
“Come,” Signa whispered as her fingers closed around his. She pressed onto her toes, kissing him once more. “Let’s get out of here.”
Music resumed the moment Signa stepped out of the ballroom, hand in hand with Death. Voices trilled from within once more, laughter floating in the air as the ball swept back into action. No one seemed to remember that the lights had gone out, or anything of two immortals fighting beside them.
Signa paid no mind to the guests in her home; let Fate and Blythe see to them. What did it matter anyway, when she would soon be leaving Foxglove as quickly as she’d settled in?
There was an overwhelming sadness in such thoughts; one that would consume her if she let them. And so she had no choice but to cast them from her mind as she glided down the stairs with Death in tow. No choice but to cast all thoughts from her mind, considering the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her at any minute. If this was to be her last living night with Death, she refused to spend it crying.
Death whispered her name, calling to her, but she didn’t still. Signa hurried to the second level and the room that she’d made her own.
“Signa,” Death called again, urgent this time. “Stop whatever this nonsense is and talk to me.” His grip on her hand tightened, and he pulled her to him as he leaned against the wall in a hallway. Empty as the hall was, Signa couldn’t help but feel like there were eyes upon her, watching. But what did that matter now? If people saw her talking to the shadows, what repercussions could there be? Come tomorrow, Foxglove would no longer be her home and nosy neighbors would be of no concern.
“There’s no time,” she whispered, wishing that he would hurry and follow her. Wishing that he would stop fighting. But Death held tight as he bent to rest his forehead against hers. He was in his human form, dark eyes blazing. Signa’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch of his cool skin, her own still warmed by her beating heart.
“We could have all the time in the world, Little Bird,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this.”
There was nothing more that Signa wished than for that to be true. She would spend an eternity with Death, would their circumstances allow it. And oh, how happy she would be.
Signa tilted her face up, pressing a kiss onto lips that had been made to fit hers. “You know I do,” she whispered, taking his bottom lip between hers and kissing him again.
Death held her in both arms, dragging her body into his with no sign of letting go. “Then we’ll find a way to break the oath once Elijah is free.”
She cupped his face in her palms, unable to stop her tears. Once her blood was on that tapestry, there was no saying how long it would take to break her deal with Fate or how he might retaliate.
“Listen to me.” Signa settled her palms against either side of his face. “I love you. You have made me happier and more myself than I have ever been. If we’re only to have one more night, then I want it to be something that we can always think back to.” Her hands slid down his body, fingers intertwining through his. She brought one of Death’s hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles. He was still and silent, but he gave no argument as he let her peel away and start back toward the suite she had hoped to one day share with him.
It’d been little more than a child’s fantasy, really. With something so big as life and death between them, she should have known it would never be her reality.
She didn’t let go of his hand even as they stepped inside and she bolted the door behind him. The moment she let go, she feared he would disappear entirely and that would be the end of their story. And so she held him close, facing him as she backed toward the bed.