Page 7

Chapter Seven

Asha

E mily cleared her throat, and my brain was electrified back to life with the sound. “I’m sorry, I never caught your name?” she asked in a far-too-polite-to-be-Emily kind of way. Lawyer Emily. Shit.

“Thanatos,” he replied.

Lies.

“That’s…interesting.”

Lie buddies.

The word interesting was Emily’s polite way of saying fucking weird, but okay to someone she didn’t know. Clearly, she wanted to investigate more about how I, the social pariah, landed a hunk like him. From the eyes she made at me in between their back and forth, she was committed to the task.

Fuck.

“You can call me Than,” he offered, no longer smiling. No, his eyes were penetrating my thoughts, most likely doing voodoo only supernatural types could do—mind manipulation or something as equally invasive. So, I hadn’t obtained a poltergeist, just a motherfucking demon.

Fuck my life.

“Emily,” she offered in return, knocking her elbow into me. Ouch. “The best friend. Roommate. Enabler. Whichever title you’d prefer.”

I nursed my sore arm with a glare her direction. “I prefer nosy bitch, but I guess friend works, too.”

“Best,” she corrected, gesturing something vulgar when Thanatos wasn’t looking.

She’d definitely heard me last night. All those sounds. The begging. The filthy side of me I gave into because I thought it was a goddamn dream. Oh god, the shame. Could you die of shame? Might save Mr. Killer the trouble because I was mortified. Humiliated. Ready to accept the whole demon thing, but not the things I’d done because of it.

“So, you two met at the club last night, then?” Emily pried, undeterred.

I opened my mouth, but Thanatos spoke first. “We did. She was all I saw when we crossed paths. I’m sort of a…monster when it comes to a woman I like.”

The jokes, they just kept coming.

Sort of like you did last night.

I was going to Hell. I was sure of it now. Watched five men die horrible deaths—okay, deaths they indisputably deserved—but here I was, hyper-focused on the fact that I’d disintegrated into a submissive sex kitten with the demon presently cooking me eggs and talking to my best friend like none of it happened.

Emily’s squeal was barely smothered by her hand, and I eye-rolled the shameless bitch so hard that I nearly threw myself off kilter. “Maybe we shouldn’t do all this…”

“Do you have a brother? Or maybe just a very close relative with the same genetic disposition as you?” Emily asked searchingly, a little crazy in the eyes. Give her enough time and she’d be smacking her lips, ready to offer a trade— me —for one of his friends’ phone numbers. If there was a poster girl for thirsty, Emily would be it.

I smacked a hand over her mouth, glaring because I didn’t know what Mr. Killer was capable of. What if she pissed him off and he tore her to pieces? What then? Did she even know how close she was to death right now? I was basically saving her life by shutting her up.

I’m such a good friend.

“Don’t you have a deposition to prep for your next trial? Or did you drag another poor victim home last night and leave him to wake up, disorientated and crying in your bedroom?”

She licked my hand, and I pulled it away with a nasty look her direction. Real professional of her. But then again, even at the office, Emily was a menace. Men had tried and failed to put her in her place, but she was a powerhouse. Gifted. An asset they couldn’t afford to lose. That was my best friend. And even though I hated her right now, I loved her.

“What’s in this kitchen is waaaay more interesting than what’s in my bedroom, promise.”

Whichever poor bastard she’d tied to the bed last night, my condolences. He was probably enslaved, enchanted, bewitched, besotted—or whatever word you wanted to use—after a kinky night of being her toy. So, of course, she was already bored. He’d chase, and she’d forget his name.

I’d seen it enough times to know that Emily never got attached, and she liked her sex string-less. Spicy but detached. Full of kinks but no future. I couldn’t actually remember a time when she dated someone. Meaningless sex buddies, sure, but never date. Her general opinion of men was that they were only good for one thing. Sex. Anything else, she could do herself.

Fuck, I loved her, but I was going to murder her if Thanatos didn’t. Emily never read the room when it came to me. Which was a talent being a goddamn lawyer literally trained to do just that.

Typically, I told her everything. I’d bled my soul to her from the moment we met. She and I were two cold pieces of jagged glass that somehow fit together. Damaged, standoffish, dark humored with general contempt for anyone and everything. She might be bright and shinier than I was on the outside, but she was a sadistic queen who enjoyed putting men on their knees. And I, well…I just liked that she loved all the weird bits about me.

I didn’t get along with people. Barely had any friends at all. Not from a lack of trying, but people had a tendency to think my sarcasm was cause for concern and I was too quick to throat-punch an asshole who mouthed off. Not Emily. She laughed at my jokes, helped me dodge legal bullets, and was genuinely happy to just stay in with me for a glass of wine and serial murder documentary.

But Emily hadn’t believed that a bird was chasing me everywhere I went. She’d never believe I was fucked by a killer, or demon, or maybe the anti-Christ after he saved me from five ready-to-kill rapists. Besides, the less interaction these two had, the better.

Questions pressed on my mind like nails piercing flesh. I needed answers, and Emily was in the fucking way.

“You should go,” I started before my savior—killer?—quickly interrupted.

“Forgive me for intruding,” he asserted politely, but I got the distinct impression he didn’t mean any word of it. My bullshit meter was screaming.

Didn’t matter, though. Emily was quick to elbow me again and say, “Rude, Ash. He’s making breakfast. You can’t kick a man out who’s making us breakfast.”

“I meant you, Ems. Not him.”

“Rude times two. I live here.”

I saw right through her. She was going to play this like one of our usual arguments. Dirty. She’d go for the throat, and I didn’t know if I had the headspace left to fight back. But still, I had to try. Her life depended on it.

“Not for long if you don’t go find something else to do,” I warned, mad-dogging her with my best be-gone-with-you-woman stare.

We both knew she paid the lion’s share of the rent, and my words were an empty threat. But still, she played her role well, hand over her heart like I’d damaged it in the crossfire. “At least let a girl eat before she’s thrown to the curb, abandoned by the one person who owes her a lot of fucking favors for the shit she’s gotten her out of…”

What a sly bitch.

Massaging her shoulders and leading her over to our thrift-find bar table, I dialed up the charm. “But of course she should. And this bitch…this bitch is super grateful for your continued help”— because I might end up in the looney bin, or worse, dead, if I don’t play my cards right —“and would never want to insult, belittle, aggrieve, or dismiss her nearest and dearest friend.”

“Pulled out all your fancy words for this one, did you, Ash? Nothing but synonym rolls for your girl here. I’m flattered.” Pleased with herself, Emily took a seat and dropped her chin on folded hands. “The bitch stays!”

I hated her so much right now.

The twitch of Thanatos’s lips was damning. He was having fun. Fuck him. Fuck him right back into yesterday. I couldn’t ask him a single goddamn question with Emily here, and by the acrobatics my face was doing, he knew it, too.

That look of his changed, though. In a single heartbeat, his secret smile and seductive onceover of my body set my skin on fire. It was the look of someone who’d seen you naked. And begging. Someone who’d figured you out in one night. Someone who’d not only pinned who you were, but every egregious kink living inside your head. And even though I should be full of rage, and rage only, the place between my legs had the audacity to pulse with the memory of what that mouth— that stupid fucking gorgeous mouth —did to me last night.

His eyes roamed my loosely-clothed form like he owned it. Every fucking inch. His icy gaze was full of steadfast possession and the confidence he’d trace every curve, dip, and crevice again. Lick every stretch of exposed skin. Memorize my valleys and ridges, my wetness and softness. He looked hungry, and I felt violated, but in a way that made my pulse take off running for the forest, desperate to be chased. In an instant, I was back under him, his prey, his willing victim, his desperate sex kitten.

His little raven.

“Shit,” I accidentally said out loud, and his all-consuming stare finally slid away, back to the eggs he cooked with a gentleness a person like him shouldn’t possess.

Usually, Emily was perceptive as shit when I was unraveling, loose at the seams, and dangerously close to combustion. But obviously, the handsome bad boy chef, who might also just so happen to be a demon prince sent from the underworld, was enough to distract her from her usually astute Asha face-reading talents.

“Come here,” came his soft-spoken command when he turned back to stare at me.

I almost thought I’d misheard him. But before I realized it, I moved to stand next to him as ordered.

What the fuck?

His hand engulfed my face, and as if my friend wasn’t in the room, Thanatos bent his head down and claimed my mouth in a greedy kiss. My knees buckled, nearly taking me to the floor in an outright ridiculous way, but he was quicker. His hand wrapped around my waist, and before I could fully gasp, his tongue stroked mine without any regard for who was watching. His lips tasted, and his teeth bit and yanked my lower lip. The tight, familiar coil in my stomach warned me any more and I’d make Emily a voyeur to some shit I’d regret later. But thankfully, Thanatos pulled away, leaving me sufficiently dazed.

“Good morning, little raven,” he whispered so sweetly that I’d never believe he was a demon if he hadn’t brutally killed those assholes last night. “I’m sure you have questions.”

Emily whistled, probably upset he stopped and didn’t fuck me right in front of her, the voyeuristic queen. “Holy shit. I’m going to need a list of the people you know. I’m willing to trade that hot piece for one of yours.”

Called it.

The awkwardness continued well past eggs and kisses Thanatos was apparently fond of stealing, but finally, Emily found a reason to leave. Mostly to avoid the guy who’d fallen in love with her after their night together. I was grateful that she needed an excuse to send him on his way by stating that she was a very busy lawyer person and needed to stop by work for “things pertaining to my deposition.” Incidentally, the same deposition she didn’t care about earlier when I’d asked about it.

But it was now just Mr. Killer and I, alone.

Thanatos regarded me from his chair, which he’d put as close to mine as physically possible. The way his ice-blue eyes traveled down my body, eating me up, it was clear he wanted to get me undressed and under him again.

And it was fucking distracting.

But he hadn’t burned up in the sunlight, so not a vampire. Or at least not one like the stories told. I wasn’t an expert, but I’d read a few paranormal romances in my time. He fit demon more than vampire, but what did I know? This was fucking reality, not some fictional romance written by a creative mind and depraved heart.

Not one to beat around the bush, and definitely not ready to let this gorgeous but dangerous killer tear my clothes off with the same hands he used to dismember five people, I got to the point, safe from being overheard by my roommate who’d practically sold me off to him for a phone number.

“What are you, some kind of…demon?”

His eyes flashed with something akin to contempt. “They should be so lucky to be as powerful as I am. But to answer your question, no.”

I could see we were about to play twenty questions if I didn’t get to the heart of things, so I followed it up by asking, “Mind elaborating there, killer? What kind of creature can tear five guys to pieces and murder them in cold blood like it’s nothing?”

Thanatos’s amusement reached his mouth and he leaned back in his chair, plenty happy to drag out this little conversation of epic, reality-upending proportions. “Murder is a strong word, little raven. More like…deliver their souls to where they belong. You haven’t forgotten what they planned to do to you, or is that part of the night fuzzy?”

Condescending ass.

“I remember it all perfectly. In a little too much detail, if I’m honest. Like, for example, the fact that some kind of symbol was burned onto their foreheads and their eyes fucking hollowed out. Well, Bad Lay, anyway. The rest you tore up at lightning speed, so I didn’t exactly get a good look at them before they were butchered. Unlike some of us in this room, I’m not used to the sight of carnage.”

His thick arms crossed over his naked chest, drawing my attention to it in an instant. I hadn’t forgotten the muscles. Or the piercings. My eyes took a stroll down memory lane, and the killer cleared his throat when I stared at his lap for a beat too long.

“I’m not a demon. Nor am I a vampire.” Mind reader! “No, just incredibly good at reading your expressions, Ash.”

I swallowed thickly around the intimate use of my nickname. It sounded both foreign and insanely forbidden in his deep, panty-wetting baritone, but I wanted him to say it again. He might if I asked or pretended I didn’t hear him.

My head clicked back over to the entire reason we were here, and now I was angry I got distracted by him again . If he wasn’t a vampire or demon, what kind of creature could have this sort of enthralling lure? Nothing good, I bet.

Our eyes connected. The way he sucked in a deep, powerful breath then wet his lips as the blue of his irises faded to a haunting white sent alarm ringing through my head. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. Call it a woman’s intuition—or maybe a trained fighter’s sixth sense—but I just knew I couldn’t outrun this monster.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” I pointed out, leaning back in the same manner, asserting my own dominance and refusal to get anything but the truth. “What are you? I know it wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. Those assholes are dead.”

“As I admitted only a second ago.”

Twenty questions, it is.

“So, not a demon, not a vampire, but something with a creepy shadow power and the ability to tear men apart, burn their heads, and steal their souls?” I searched my very limited database on the subject. “Reaper?”

His lips twitched, and I could almost fist-pump my brilliance. “Close, but not quite.” His eyes dropped to my mouth then my breasts before lifting. “I would think you’d be more interested in why I chose to show you.”

He wasn’t wrong. A normal person would wonder why them, why now, what for, but I wasn’t exactly normal. Of course, I did wonder why he’d fucked me like a beast. Or probably more confusing, why he’d saved me in the first place. Or maybe why he stayed when he could’ve let me think it was all a dream. What did he stand to gain from all of this? Who was I to him?

When my eyes sliced back up to his, the smile he offered me was the sexiest yet. “Now you’re getting there, little raven.”

“But will you answer any of it? So far, it feels like we’re going in circles. It’s giving me a headache.”

I glanced at the clock. Today was the only day I could laze around, but tomorrow it was back to work. Major Asshat Boss pulled a fast one on me and ordered I go into the office tomorrow to catch up on a few client documents, stating in no small way that it was my sole responsibility even if it was his initial error that they got missed.

But alas, this was the life of a girl living in a capitalistic white man’s paradise. Unfortunately, supernatural killer or no, I still had bills to pay. If I was lucky, whoever or whatever this man was, he’d lose interest and go on his merry way. I’d deal with the other night the same way I dealt with my childhood—by not dealing with it. Stuff it down. Pretend it wasn’t there. Ignore the trauma I incurred, and then suffer when I was rudely triggered in public at random.

“Death,” he said after a long, very pregnant pause. One I was certain would lead straight into me giving up and leaving.

“Pardon?”

“Humans call me Death. The Reaper of Souls. Not one of many, but the only one of my kind.” He watched me, gauging my reaction by the way his jaw clenched and his muscles firmed all over his chest.

If I hadn’t experienced what I had the night before, I would’ve laughed. Instead, a deep, aching sense of dread crept into my chest. A vice-grip took hold of my heart and lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream.

My trauma response kicked in, the numb reaching my head. “Death…”

“Yes.”

“And what…um, does your job entail? Wait, do you work? You said you sent those guys where they belonged, so…like, Hell?”

He was quiet, but like the night before, it was full of meaning. The killer—Death?—was silently studying me, figuring me out, wondering what my puny, human mind could handle. Then he spoke. One short, damning reply. One that would change the way I saw the world forever.

“Yes.”