I pull his lips to mine and steal a kiss, one of my hands tangling in his hair.
Angel sex is wild.
One of Death’s hands slip between the seam of my ass, until his fingers are touching that other hole.
Breaking off the kiss, I go tense in his arms. The action causes Thanatos’s cock to jerk.
He makes a pained noise. “Relax, kismet. You can tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” He waits for me to do so.
A part of me considers it, but another part of me is far too curious to stop things now.
When I say nothing, one of Death’s fingers presses against my back entrance until it gives way.
I suck in a breath, even as the pressure somehow coils up within me. Each thrust of his becomes much more sensitive.
“I can’t believe this was your idea,” I say.
In the darkness, I can see the gleam of the horseman’s dark eyes as he takes in my expression. “Next time, it can be yours.”
“You are filthy,” I breathe.
In response, he presses his finger in farther.
Jesus. I feel impossibly full like this, and having him work me from both sides is causing sensation to rapidly build … and build …
“Thanatos—”
It’s too much.
With a cry, I shatter, my orgasm exploding through me.
He groans as I come, and then his hips are pumping feverishly against mine. Moments later, I feel him thicken inside me. Death bellows my name as he comes, his cock slamming into me again and again.
Our climaxes seem to go on forever, but eventually, I feel him withdraw his finger so he can clutch me close.
I go boneless in his arms, my body shaky and spent.
Slowly, Thanatos lowers us back to the ground, landing at the foot of our makeshift bed.
He lays me out on the sheets before draping himself against my side.
Death looks at me and my breath catches. For an instant, a strange feeling passes through me, like everything I thought I understood was all a mirage, and that the curtain that separates life from death is so thin I might actually catch a glimpse— “Lazarus.”
My gaze focuses on Thanatos. The markings on his skin glitter like stars and they seem ancient—he seems ancient. Ancient and otherworldly.
“You are exquisite,” he says. He leans forward and kisses the pulse at my neck, his dark hair tickling my skin. “Exquisite and troublesome and curious and alive.”
“I thought you didn’t like the fact that I was alive.”
He gives me a soft smile. “Even angels can be wrong.”
Chapter 55
Interstate 10, Arizona
August, Year 27 of the Horsemen
I wake to the sound of echoing howls.
I sit up, my eyes scanning the darkness for whatever animal might make that noise. I can’t see past the wall of carts and the revenants around us, though those strange cries seem to be close.
Wait, howls?
But all animals flee death …
The wooden carts shake and now I can make out whoops and bellows, and fuck, those aren’t wolves.
They are the battle cries of marauders.
I suck in my scream just as Thanatos rises next to me, his hair mussed. I don’t have time to read into that before, around us, dozens of figures materialize from the darkness.
They descend on our camp like a swarm of locusts. One man jumps on a cart, causing it to nearly overturn. Another smashes through a skeleton.
Death lifts his hand, but before he has a chance to unleash his lethal power, an arrow pierces him through the heart. A split second later, another slams into his head.
“Thanatos!” I scream, lunging for him as, all around camp, the remaining skeletons crumple, their bones clattering against the ground.
I catch the horseman as he falls back and cradle him in my arms, even as our attackers stream towards us.
“Death,” I say again, cupping his face.
I know he’s dead, I know the self-persevering thing to do is drop his body and fight, but I’m seized by a paralyzing panic at the sight of my horseman limp in my arms. A sob slips out.
How many times have I seen him die? A dozen? More?
Never have I felt this way before. Like the world is collapsing around me. I can barely breathe around it.
Another arrow whistles by, grazing my shoulder. I cry out, reaching for the wound. That snaps me out of my grief.
Get up, Lazarus.
I force myself to my feet, my hands and forearms slick with the horseman’s blood. It’s a small favor that I actually decided to slip on an oversized shirt and a pair of underwear. I don’t always when I lay with Death.
“Do not harm the woman!” someone shouts.