Page 84 of A Kiss From Death (Oath of Vengeance #1)

A heaviness sits on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I try to push through the thickness in my lungs, shoving as much air into them as possible. I startle when the heaviness in my chest…shifts.

Using all the energy I can muster, I peel one eye open. Sunlight assaults my eye, making it sting as I squint my surroundings into focus. The heaviness in my chest stirs again. No, not in my chest— on my chest.

Black, unruly curls come into view, splayed in a pile of madness across my chest, and I yearn to run my fingers through them. Even, deep breaths fan from his lips, the same plump lips that currently sit inches from my face.

Trailing my eyes up, I trace the white lightning bolt scar from his nose up through his pale eye, ending just before his hairline before it disappears underneath his obsidian curls .

I take a moment to study him, enjoying this peaceful moment for myself. I soak it up, every scar, mark, and feature etched within his skin that make up this unique beast. I’m lost in the moment, enjoying a second of quiet for the first time in weeks.

“Perfection,” I whisper under my breath as I grip one of his unruly curls between my thumb and finger.

“Are you done stripping me bare with your eyes?” His voice comes out gruff, like he hasn’t used it in a very long time.

I jolt, shocked I didn’t notice he was awake. “How did you know I was awake?”

Grunting, he shuffles, lifting his head to brace his chin on his fists, his elbows on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he drags his eyes down my entire body, looking me over for any wounds, I’m sure. “I notice everything when it comes to you, Nyxi .”

Empress , the way he says my name sends a jolt straight to my heart, threatening to stop it completely and revive it wholly in the same beat.

“You’re making it a habit of walking death’s door.” It’s a statement, not a question, flooding me with a million emotions.

“As long as you stand on the other side of that door to catch me, I don’t see the problem. What is it Winston called you? Daddy Death? ”

“It’s a nasty habit you need to break,” he threatens, but it holds no malice, only an underlying tone of concern.

“As long as you keep saving me, I will make it my life’s mission to never stop.”

Rolling his eyes playfully, he looks me over once more, satisfied with my intact limbs and healed skin. He leans back in his chair, pulled close to his bed where I’m currently lying, and pins me with his stare.

After an intense moment of locked eyes, I manage to speak. “What happened?”

“You won the Crucible,” he replies simply .

I nod in understanding, remembering the last moment of dragging my battered body across to the finish before being devoured wholly by pain and nothingness. “How long have I been out?”

“A week. The blessing ceremony is set for tonight, but you don’t have to attend if you aren’t feeling up to it. It took a lot of mending to get you healed, and clearly, your body needed time to recuperate, seeing as you’ve been out cold for a week now.”

“I want to go.” The answer comes out firm, leaving no room for doubt. I’ve made it this far. This is the last step between me and my freedom, and then my revenge. I’m suddenly whipped in the face by the reality of what tonight’s events entail.

I will be granted magic .

“What does it feel like?” I question, nervously chewing on my bottom lip. His eyes track the movement before going back up to my eyes in understanding.

“Like a steady hum beneath your skin, a pool of untapped potential at the tips of your fingers, ready to use and shape as you please. It’s overwhelming and can corrupt someone if they are overtaken.

” Thinking to himself, he continues, “To me, it’s always felt like a weapon, like I’m the definition of death, which I guess I am.

Others who have lesser magic say it feels freeing, like floating on a cloud, but I’ve never experienced that side of magic.

It takes everything in me to control the power threatening to escape and destroy.

It is why I always must stay in control.

If I let one ounce slip between my fingers, I could corrupt everything in my path. ”

“You are no weapon to me. You are light. You are healing.”

He searches my face desperately for any deception, but he won’t find any. He means every sense of the word to me and has shown me what it’s like to live again, to see beyond the dark veil clouding my vision, opening my eyes to all the light around me.

Reaching forward, he dusts his knuckles gently across my cheek. “Do you think you got your freckles from your mom or dad? Or maybe the gods blessed you with their touch, each hand placing their mark upon your porcelain skin.” He hums to himself happily.

Did he just compliment me? This is uncharted territory, and I don’t know how to respond. I open my mouth, and he smirks at my malfunction, chuckling to himself.

“Did I leave you speechless, dream? ”

“No,” I rush out. “I’m still recovering, is all.” Attempting to shove the attention on him, I ask, “Why does it look like you’re in the same clothes as the last time I saw you?”

“Because they are. I haven’t left your side since the Crucible.”

I recoil. “But that was a week ago.”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“You mean to tell me you sat in that chair by my side for seven days straight?” I look at him like he’s gone mad.

“No. I also held your hand for most of it and ate once when my body protested.”

That’s it—he’s definitely gone mad on me. No one in their right mind would waste seven days of their life sitting in a chair, especially for someone like me.

Reading me like a book, he grunts. “Stop that.”

“What?”

“Acting as if you are not worthy of my time or attention. You were hurt badly, and I was there to make sure air remained in your lungs. End of story.”

Is that why his head was on my chest? Was he listening to make sure I was still breathing?

That is… Well, that is… What the fuck do I even say back to that?

Thanks for making sure there was sufficient air in my lungs for the last seven days, even though it meant sleeping in a chair and not washing or eating property? It’s too much.

Once again, he reads the emotions flitting across my face, as if we share the same head.

“I am right where I wanted to be, Nyxi. Lunaria could be crumbling, falling from the damn sky, and I still wouldn’t have left your side.

Nothing could have pried me from your healing body until I knew you were okay.

” I go to protest, but he halts me with a single finger to my lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for someone like you. ”

“You’ve waited for damaged goods?” I whisper around his finger.

“More like perfection . In every sense of the word. I could not find a better entity to represent the word. You are perfection and nothing less.”

I drag air into my lungs, trying to remind myself how to breathe. This softer side of Hade is a lot, but it’s also healing parts of me that have been dark for far too long. I think back to my conversation with Theo and the promises I made him.

Fight and live. Truly live in every sense of the word.

He made me promise to use this life I have to be happy, to continue without him by my side but always in my heart. To live and to love again. To be free. All of this has been for him. Once I finish what I came here to do, I will fulfill my promise.

I will continue to live in every sense of the word. For him, but also for myself.

“Thank you,” is all I can bring myself to respond with, because how does one respond to a man serving compliments like that on a silver platter, as if I personally hung Lunaria in the sky for him?

“Now that you’ve confirmed there is indeed air in my lungs, maybe you could go wash up.

You positively stink .” I’m only playing with him, because this man could walk out of battle and still smell like a smokey dream, but I also know he needs to take care of himself after dedicating a week to taking care of me.

That deep chuckle I love so much washes over my skin as he pulls the back of my hand up to his lips. “I’m glad to see you’re back to your annoying, attitude-filled self.”

The door swings open at the same time Hade moves to stand. “I still don’t understand why you placed her here and not her room. It’s like you purposely did it to make me walk a million extra steps to see her.”

Stretching my neck, I peer behind Hade’s tall frame and collide with a stunned pair of forest green eyes.

Des is dressed in a blush pink dress with red hearts stitched into the fabric that I’m sure she sewed herself.

She paired it with a black leather corset, red hearts clipped in her light gray locks.

“ Always and tomorrow, ” she gasps between hysterical sobs. She breaks into a full sprint and tackles me in bed. My muscles groan on impact, still sore from being mended.

“Shit, sorry. Are you hurt?” Turning as if I’m not capable of answering myself, she asks Hade, “Is she okay?”

“I’m right here, you know. I can answer for myself.”

“Shhh, not now. Is. She. Okay?” she asks Hade with a deadly seriousness I’ve never heard from her. I sigh, rolling my eyes and trying to pull away, but she just moves along with me.

“She’s okay,” he says thoughtfully, and I swear, a silent conversation passes them.

Satisfied, Des scoops me up into the tightest hug that threatens to remove the air from my lungs after Hade made it his life mission to make sure they stayed filled.

“I knew you would come back to me. You’re too much of a badass to die.

That would be so beneath you. Plus, who would dress you to perfection in the afterlife? That would be truly criminal.”

“I missed you too,” I giggle into her hair.

“Don’t ever give me a heart attack like that again,” she threatens. Peeling her body from mine, she pins me with her pleading stare that hurts my heart a touch, spotting the pain I’ve caused her. “Promise me,” she whispers.

“I promise. Always and tomorrow, remember?”

She grips my pinkie in hers and then tugs me forward, planting a sloppy, wet kiss on my cheek.

“I have to catch you up on all the castle drama!” she exclaims excitedly, back to her over the top, chipper self.

“Oh, Empress, what is that god awful smell?” She pinches her nose, making a show of it, and Hade takes it as his cue to dismiss himself to the ensuite washroom.

Sinking back into the bed, Des slides in next to me and strokes my hair while she spills all the drama. We laugh, we cry, she tells me about the romance book she’s reading, and we just enjoy each other’s company and this life we are blessed to live. I feel happily content.

“I almost forgot,” she screams. “I have a surprise for you we’ve been working on!”

We?