I hadn’t wanted to hurt this man before our last encounter. Now that he saved me and healed me … I am especially reluctant about using the knives in my bag. I know that’s ridiculous, but there it is.
The horseman stops in front of me. “Grab your blades then, kismet,” he dares. He must see how at odds I am with myself.
When I don’t, he steps in close. Taking my hand, he guides it to the sheathed dagger at my side. Closing my fingers over it, he pulls the weapon out. The entire time there’s a daring, defiant gleam in his eyes. “If we are to be enemies, then hurt me.”
It’s only when he brings the blade up to the side of his throat that I begin to resist.
“Do it,” he commands. “My artery is right there beneath the skin. All it would take is a knick. I would bleed out in minutes and it would buy you a day.”
“Stop it,” I whisper.
Death releases his hold on my hand, and my dagger slips through my fingers, clattering to the ground.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit, the words spilling out of me. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I cannot seem to stop you any other way.”
Death’s hand rises to my cheek. His fingers stroke it, and fool that I am, I let him touch me. It feels so much better than I remember.
“Before I healed you,” he says softly, “I assumed using my power to heal was wrong. I can see now that it was me who was wrong.” His gaze dips to my mouth. “I find myself longing for another reason to hold you close.” This last confession just seems to slip out with the rest.
My breath hitches as his eyes move back to mine. All those forbidden thoughts of him I’ve had over the months—thoughts that would creep in during my long lonely nights on the road—they resurface. Until recently, I assumed they were one-sided. Now knowing that they’re not, that Death wants this more than I even do …
A completely inappropriate ache pounds deep within me.
Thanatos’s attention moves to my stolen bag. He opens it up, staring at all the knives.
“I’m guessing these are meant for me.” He says it so conversationally, so unafraid. It should dissipate the strange sexual tension between us.
It doesn’t.
“I’m not going to let you take me,” I say vehemently.
“I’m not going to give you a choice,” Thanatos says, gaze rising to mine.
And yet, he hasn’t grabbed me. He keeps not grabbing me, as if he’s waiting for me to fall into his arms. If that’s the case, then he can wait until Kingdom Come.
Death cups my jaw then, and his nostrils flare. “Tell me you don’t feel this … this consuming need.”
My stomach somersaults at the intensity in his eyes.
“I don’t feel it,” I say, only my voice comes out all breathy and wrong.
Thanatos narrows his gaze. Slowly, he smiles.
“I will count to a thousand,” he says. “That’s as generous as I’m going to be. You can do whatever you’d like in those thousand seconds. I won’t fight back, I won’t come after you, but once time’s up, we’ll no longer be playing your game. We’ll be playing mine.”
We were never playing any sort of game. Ever.
My stomach drops. “I’m not going to—”
“One … two … three …” he begins, a savage look on his face.
I look breathlessly at him, then around us before jumping into action.
I slide my satchel off my shoulder, letting it drop to the ground. Kneeling down next to it, I pull out a knife and begin sawing away at the strap of the bag. Once I cut the strap free, I glance at the horseman.
He raises his eyebrows. “Sixty-seven … sixty-eight …”
“Turn around,” I command, half-expecting him to ignore my demands. Much to my shock, however, he turns, exposing his massive wings to me.
My breath hitches at the sight of all those coal-black feathers. I step up to his back, my skin pebbling as those very feathers brush against my skin. I swear I hear Thanatos’s sharp inhale, and maybe I’m not the only one affected by the contact.
I grab one of his forearms, pulling it behind his back, then the other, pressing his wrists together. I bind his hands together with the satchel’s leather strap, making sure to tie the knots extra tight. His body sways.
“I like this, kismet,” he says, “This makes me think very strange, very … human thoughts about you.”
My core clenches at his words.
It’s only as I finish my work that I remember his absurd strength. He’ll get through the bindings in seconds.