“Lazarus.”
“Oh my God,” I say, “don’t act like I took your firstborn. This is how we mix bread dough.”
Death grimaces, though I can’t be sure whether it’s this method of mixing or the thought of bread itself that displeases him. And to be honest, I could’ve used a spoon for this part.
Regardless, he does let me lead him through mixing, then kneading, the dough.
The movements are unfamiliar to the horseman, but somehow those deft hands of his aren’t clumsy. Not that it makes him appreciate it any more.
“This seems like a frivolous task,” he says, the edge of one of his wings brushing against my back.
“I imagine if I were an ageless, deathless angel who didn’t need to eat, it might feel frivolous to me too,” I say.
Thanatos’s eyes move to my face and after a moment, I meet his gaze.
You see me, his expression seems to say.
I briefly glance at our hands.
“Now you’ve pressed a little of your soul into the recipe too.”
“That’s ridiculous, kismet.” But now he sounds less skeptical and more curious.
A little smile slips out.
“So it’s done?” he asks.
“Technically it is, but—” We still have to cook it.
I never get that last part out.
Death lifts me onto one of the counters, knocking over a bowl of red sauce that one of the skeletons worked hard at making. It shatters against the ground, splattering both me and him.
Neither of us pays it any attention.
“Good. That was a fun secret,” he says, his gaze fixed on my lips. His hands move to the edge of my shirt, his fingers still sticky from the dough. He lifts the garment off over my head.
Death glances speculatively around. “Now, it seems to me that a kitchen is the last sort of place one should be caught fooling around.” He flashes me a mischievous smile and pulls me to the edge of the counter. Grabbing my legs, he wraps them, one by one, around his waist.
I mean, in this post-apocalyptic hellscape of a world, there are definitely worse places to get down and dirty …
I tug on his black shirt, pulling it off of him and revealing his sculpted chest and the lines of glowing writing that stream down it.
Thanatos’s grin falls away and he cups my face, his gaze growing heated.
“You were made for me,” he says fervently. “And I for you.”
He kisses me savagely, and we forget all about the soul bread.
The fully cooked bread loaf sits on a platter on the dining room table. Death stares at it like an adversary.
“You don’t have to try it,” I say.
“Of course I must,” he replies. “It’s soul food, and I am the overseer of souls.”
I give Thanatos a cautious look as I begin to cut it. Last time the horseman tried bread, he hated it.
I slice off a thin piece of the bread and hand it to him. Reluctantly, Death takes it. I don’t bother offering the horseman some butter or olive oil or anything else that might add some flavor. I’m afraid that anything might scare him off.
Around us, the candles flicker, and the only noise in the room is the soft sounds the flames make as they burn their wicks. It feels like the room itself is watching, waiting.
Death glances at the bread, a slight frown on his face, as though he’s dreading what he’s about to do. He brings it to his lips and, after a momentary pause, he takes a bite. He chews for a long moment, his face expressionless, and my stomach plummets at the sight.
I don’t know what I was actually expecting or why it even matters. He’s a horseman. He doesn’t need to eat food nor enjoy it.
I just wanted him to, I guess. It’s as simple as that.
Thanatos swallows, and his brows pull together as he studies the bread slice again.
“I like it,” he admits, scowling. He takes another bite.
“Soul food,” he says to himself, a private smile on his face. His eyes meet mine, and they twinkle like we’re sharing an inside joke.
And maybe we are—but soul food or human food, Thanatos eats every last bite of it.
Chapter 66
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
I’ve gotten used to the sensation of waking up confused. Different city, different bed, different surroundings. It always feels like I’m falling for a moment, like my feet are no longer on firm ground.
That’s what happens tonight. When my eyes snap open and I stare at the massive windows, I don’t know where I am. But then there’s a familiar arm thrown over my waist, the glyphs along it softly glowing, and my body relaxes as I remember that I am with Death.