A smile slips onto my face. I keep doing that lately—smiling at the little details I notice around the horseman. It’s a softer, more subtle emotion than the breathless rush of desire I usually get around him.
I think this is what being in love feels like.
I reach for Death’s hand, threading my fingers through his. I expect him to give mine a squeeze. When he doesn’t, I flip around.
His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted. The sharp angles of his face are somehow softened in the dim light, and that tattoo-riddled chest of his is rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
He’s … asleep. Death actually managed to fall asleep. First he ate the bread, and now this. It isn’t the first time this has happened, but it’s the first time I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
I don’t dare make any sound as I watch his wings lightly rise and fall with each breath. His arm is still slung over my waist, and his other one is buried beneath my pillow. A lock of his dark hair has spilled onto his cheek.
My heart flutters at the sight. Oh so gently I reach out a hand and tuck his hair behind an ear. And I stare and stare.
I’ve seen him unconscious plenty of times. This is different. There’s no pain or strife to the horseman’s features; this is the smooth set of a face that knows peace.
On impulse, I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. Next to me, Thanatos stirs. He throws a leg over mine, and pulls me in close.
“Love you, kismet,” he murmurs in his sleep. One of his wings extends, just a little, covering me like a blanket.
I smile to myself, warmth spreading through my stomach. “I love you, too.”
Chapter 67
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Death
I startle awake, my eyes snapping open. The room is dark.
Still nighttime.
I take in the woman tucked under my arm. Lazarus is curled up tightly to my chest, so close that even in the darkness I can see the arch of her eyebrows and the sweep of her lashes. The sight makes my chest tighten in the sweetest way before I remember— I fell asleep.
Again.
It’s been happening more and more. The whole experience is unnatural and off-putting. Humans with wings were not made to sleep like this—though one such wing of mine has stretched itself out over Lazarus, and at the sight of it, I feel a deep, primal sense of satisfaction that the woman I love is right here with me, tucked within my embrace.
I am not the man I used to be. Not in the slightest. And this woman is almost wholly to blame for that.
It would be a lie to say I haven’t toyed with the idea of giving up everything for Lazarus. The thought has crept up on me more times than I should admit. She thinks I haven’t been tempted to turn away from my task, but in truth, I’ve always been tempted. Back when I first considered it, it symbolized my fall, and it was something to fear.
Now … now I could live with her here forever, making love under the stars, swimming in that unpleasant ocean just to hear the trill of Lazarus’s laughter. My nights would be spent sleeping at her side, her body tucked against mine—just like this.
I ache for that.
My hand slips down her soft skin, resting on the swell of her lower stomach.
What if?
What if things were different?
What if I stopped killing? What if I gave in? Truly lived as a human?
What if I formed life?
My cock hardens at the mere idea.
I’m so close to waking her up. To spreading those thighs of hers and driving myself in. Of making good on this one, truly forbidden thing.
She doesn’t want kids with you. She thought you’d be a terrible father.
That stops me completely.
I could change. If I did, perhaps she’d reconsider. I want her to reconsider. None of it has to be this way— This is how Famine fell.
That day, when the Reaper tried to strip himself of his immortality and his purpose, I felt his intentions while I lay in my stupor. They are what roused me. And how they now mirror my own.
Here I am, on the brink of giving up everything, all for the love of a good woman.
I’ve spent so long thinking I was better than my brothers, thinking I was different. And perhaps, in some ways, I am.
But my God, this is how Famine fell.
Unlike the Reaper, however, I do believe in humanity. I always have. None of this was ever about humans’ innate goodness. One look at their souls and it’s plainly obvious.
No, this has always been about carrying out the task the four of us horsemen were given.
Even as I think on this, I sense those brothers of mine. I haven’t mentioned to Lazarus how close they are, but now they lie just outside this city. Tomorrow they will be here.