Page 16 of In Death’s Hands (The Threads of Fate #1)

Sighing heavily, I turn the light back on and look around.

I don’t know where my laptop is, and I don’t feel like digging it up.

Not even the thought of plunging back into a comforting fantasy world gives me the strength to look for a book.

Maybe because real life has started to feel too close to those stories. I am depleted and riled up all at once.

With nothing better to do, I get up and softly open the door. Peeking out, I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed to find the space quiet and empty.

On silent feet, I walk to the kitchen and snoop around the cabinets. They’re all empty except for a couple of glasses, some plates and silverware. Does he even live here?

I open the fridge next and find some milk, white bread as well as jam and chocolate spread.

Shrugging, I take it all out and make myself a snack.

It doesn’t escape my notice that they’re all brand new, probably bought today by Turan, as I’ve been with Nathan the entire time and he hasn’t once stepped inside a store.

Ignoring the questions adding themselves to the already existing mountain, I warm some milk and drop some of the chocolate spread in it. I don’t like natural milk, and there’s no cocoa powder to be found in this depressing as hell kitchen, so I guess it’ll do.

When I’ve finished spreading an indecent amount of chocolate on a few slices of bread, I pour the milk into a glass and take my bounty to the couch.

I wish the fire was on, if only to fill the silence and drown out my thoughts.

The milk is surprisingly good, and I drink it quickly as I devour the bread, hoping against reason that a food coma will take me down for the night.

I close my eyes and try counting my breaths. I’ve attempted meditation a few times in my life, but never stuck with it long enough to reap its benefits. Now seems as good a time as any to give it another go.

Trying to push the insidious thoughts away before they can take root, I yelp as I suddenly feel the couch dipping next to me. My eyes open quickly only to find themselves stuck on Nathan’s chest. Bare chest.

It’s hard to swallow as I force my gaze up the vast expanse of sleek skin and toned muscles.

His eyes are dark and full of words I can’t hear.

He refuses to share them as he bends over me.

My brain freezes completely as his scent hits me, reminding me of a crisp winter night in the forest. The memories of bright laughter around a campfire and huddling in a tent dissolve as quickly as they appeared when Nathan lets out a sharp breath that skitters across my too-hot cheeks.

Before I can understand what’s going on and attempt to slow my wild pulse, he settles back down, holding the blanket that was previously folded behind me.

Right.

Instead of wrapping it around himself and providing a much-needed break from my filthy thoughts, he gently drapes the fabric on top of me, making sure I’m covered from shoulders to toes. The warmth in my cheeks suddenly drops lower. Like way down south lower.

Still without a word, he relaxes back into the couch and pops his feet on the coffee table. While he wraps his hands on top of his well-defined stomach, he closes his eyes and lets out a long breath that has his shoulders relaxing.

I gape at him.

He doesn’t move again, and it takes me an embarrassing amount of time to allow my own jaw to shut and my body to relax. I curl into a ball, careful not to touch him, and close my eyes.

Convinced it’s a waste of time, especially with him looking like that, a mere touch away, I don’t realise how fast I’m falling asleep. The sound of his soft breathing is the only thing I take with me to the dream realm.

Waking up is an experience.

It doesn’t happen all at once. No, today I get to savour it.

My thoughts become a little bit more conscious.

I burrow deeper into the warmth at my side, willing the world to just stop for a minute.

I start to register that that warmth I’m so comfortably nestled against is moving ever so slightly.

A pleasant rhythm that threatens to take me back under.

Sadly, all good things crash around me, and this moment is no exception. A chuckle has my brain cells exploding with life and understanding.

I jolt awake, blood rushing to my cheeks so fast I feel lightheaded.

Nathan slowly blinks at me. He looks adorable, rubbing his eyes with his right hand while trying to get his left back. Back from where it is trapped between my back and the couch.

His eyes widen when he focuses on me, probably mirroring mine.

I hear the same chuckle and remember what woke me. Slowly, I turn towards the woman who emitted the delighted sound.

Shit.

Nathan jumps quickly to his feet, mumbling about a shower, and I am left facing the shit-eating grin on his sister’s face.

Shit.

“I—Uh…” I sigh. “I’ll make some coffee.”

Turan bursts out laughing and saunters to the kitchen alongside me, saying brightly, “You couldn’t make it even if you wanted to in this place, so I’ve brought it for you.” Right, no coffee machine. Just another example that this place is unreal.

I look at the to-go cup in her hand and smell the delicious scent emanating from it. I reach for the cup. “Bless y—” My thanks crash and burn when she quickly takes her hand and the offering away.

“Uh-uh. Wanna tell me about your night?”

I glare at her and imagine all the ways I could hurt this little woman. She seems to see all this and only laughs in response. Either she’s dumb enough not to realise how much danger she’s in by standing between me and my coffee or she’s certain Nathan would end me should anything happen to her.

I reach for the drink again only to have her dancing away, cackling.

“Nothing happened. We just happened to fall asleep on the couch.”

“You two seemed awfully cosy there.”

I was awfully cosy. Before she interrupted. So what? Can’t a girl enjoy waking up next to a half-naked guy who looks like sex on a stick?

A girl can. And a girl should.

Whether it’s smart for that girl to be me and the guy in question to be Death’s assistant, the jury is still out.

Having coffee would help with the decision-making process, so when she looks up at the ceiling in her next bout of evil laughter, I jump and snatch the elixir of life right out of her hand.

She stops laughing right away to gape at me, and I swear I see respect in her eyes. I don’t spend another second dwelling on it, however, as I’m too busy chugging the black liquid like my life depends on it.

“Your girl got spirit,” Turan says to the overcharged presence I can feel at my back.

That was a quick shower. I look at him and note that his hair is wet and he’s wearing a black shirt that does things to my pulse as it stretches across his chest and shoulders.

“She does.” The deep voice, the implication of his words and the lack of denial from his lips have my throat closing, and I end up in a coughing fit, choking on my coffee. Elixir of life my ass. I’m lucky to still be breathing when I finally calm down enough to find Turan smirking knowingly at me.

I turn away and head for my bedroom to change into appropriate clothing, her laughter snapping at my heels all the way.

I take longer than I truly need to open the boxes and change into tight blue jeans and an old, too-large white sweater.

I let my hair cascade down my back, not caring and certainly not having the energy to tidy it.

I admire women who take time to do fancy updos and classy makeup.

I’m usually too lazy to bother and always end up with free-falling hair or a messy bun to hide the fact that I should have washed it.

It certainly never looks like the fancy, fake kind of messy you see in movies.

When I walk back out, I find Turan and Nathan, heads bent together, whispering animatedly. They both stop talking and turn my way.

I plop my hands against my hips. “So… what do we do?”

Turan sighs and shakes her head before letting herself drop rather unceremoniously onto the couch, right where I spent the night curled up against the man currently observing me with a concerned expression.

“We need to get a member of the Novensiles.”

“You want to capture one?” I ask, and Nathan nods. “Why?”

“I went searching for the Fates a long time ago, following their threads, but it led me in circles. The Novensiles claim to work for them, and since they seem intent on killing you”—his jaw ticks—“capturing one might provide a lead to finally finding the Fates.”

“You’ll need her permission,” says Turan.

“Whose permission?” I ask, although the way Nathan’s shoulders bunch tells me he knows who she’s talking about and doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

They both ignore me, however, preferring to stare at each other long enough for me to wonder if time has frozen.

Turan sighs. “You already need to apologise for keeping her in the dark so long. You need to present the facts and have her approve your plan.” Nathan looks ready to argue, but Turan continues, “If you don’t, you’ll be putting Liv at risk.”

Nathan snarls, and when the violence quickly turns to surrender, I’m left speechless.

“I don’t like it,” he says.

“Don’t like what?” I ask, sick of third-wheeling this conversation.

Turan finally answers me. “Our society, like yours, has rules. And Nathan dearest has already broken a few with you.” She glares at the man in question. “To salvage the situation, we need to visit our leader before we create an even bigger mess.”

“With the Novensiles?”

She nods. “Yes, but not only them. Many have tried to capture some of their members, but they are skilled at evading us, almost like they know where we’ll be in advance.

Our leader has been trying to broker peace with them for decades now, in vain.

We cannot hurt whatever progress she has made by capturing one without her permission. ”

I don’t miss Nathan’s eye-roll but am too much out of the loop to give it any meaning. He holds out his hand to me. “Fine, let’s go.”

“Nathan!” says Turan. “You cannot just stroll in with a human at your side.”

“Why not?” I ask. “What’s wrong with me?”

Turan raises her eyebrows at me, and I choose to ignore her, focusing instead on Nathan dragging a hand over his face. He’s so tense his arm bulges in a deliciously distracting way.

“Don’t tell me…” he starts.

“You know it has to be done,” concludes Turan.

I think I could start painting my toenails and they wouldn’t even notice. I feel utterly superfluous here.

“They won’t help.”

“They will.”

“I don’t want them to,” growls Nathan.

“Tough luck.”

“And how would you suggest I approach them?”

“At their—”

“ Don’t. ”

“Fine! Then in a neutral place.”

I’m wondering how easy it would be to find my nail polish amidst all the boxes Turan packed. Deciding it would be almost as much hassle as participating in this conversation, I give up on the idea and ask, “How ’bout you fill me in? Where do we need to go?”

Nathan’s dark eyes bore into mine. “Where we woke up.”

It’s like pulling teeth.

I roll my eyes and head back to the kitchen, where I notice some muffins neatly arranged on a plate.

I pick one up and the bite of lemon and blueberry explodes in my mouth.

If only I had more coffee, I think as I remember the empty cup I left on the bathroom counter.

When I turn around to face the tight-lipped man, my eyes zero in on the coffee cup he holds up for me. The one meant for him.

“It’s not mocha, but it’s yours if you want it.” The offer as well as the tentative smile on his face make breathing a more difficult task than it should be.

I hesitate for half a second before taking it and enjoying the bitter taste as it washes down the sweetness of the muffin. Then I look at him questioningly, hoping he’ll finally deign to explain everything.

He winces slightly and rakes his hand through his hair, pushing longer strands out of his eyes. “We were not always… as we are now.”

I interrupt him quickly. “Who’s we?”

“We,” Turan answers as she gets up from the couch and joins us, smoothing her hands down her bright yellow dress and looking resigned, “are servants of the Order.” I open my mouth to speak, but she puts her hand up to stop me.

“Our purpose is to keep it from collapsing into chaos.” A strange tightness invades my system as my heartbeat accelerates.

“We are beings powerful enough to steer the world, and the humans in it, towards the courses created and envisioned by the Fates themselves.”

“What—” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I don’t understand. What are you?”

Nathan is the one to drive the point forward, to take away the last flicker of normalcy I felt in my life. “Gods.”