Caged by Damnation (Caged #2)(43)

While I understood that people sometimes gave gifts which were kept for sentimental reasons, Death's reaction had been odd. The protective stance he’d taken as he’d moved to claim his box reminded me of someone from The Lord of the Rings and his ‘precious’ ring.

Death's refusal to look me in the face brought me to examine the other items on his balcony. Most were ordinary, but the foot and a half high stack of papers caught my eye. I leaned down to brush my fingers against the pages, clasping one and turning it over. I found a novel, written in chaotic scrawl. Death was a writer?

Death seethed, "Why can't you leave things well enough alone? Did it ever occur to you that might be private?"

Leaving the words to their home, I stood with empty hands to face him. "Yes, but you can get into my room without even asking. As far as I'm concerned, everything in here is fair game."

Our silence was a war, which I felt was my position to issue a treaty on. I understood his anger and embarrassment with the situation. "We're equals, remember?"

Death nodded, still holding his music box. "My writing is private. I don't share it with anyone and would – " he stopped short, his veins nearly bursting from his temples, and he calmed. "I would appreciate it if you could respect that privacy."

His eyes were changing rapidly. As soon as I had a fix on their appearance, they would transform and I would forget how they looked previously. "Okay. I can live with that." I smiled. "What's with the music box?"

Winds of fury burst forth from Death's lungs, but he fought the anger for which it was a portent. "It's a long story and I'm not sure I want to tell it."

"Does it have to do with what you write about?"

"Yes and no."

I frowned. "That's not much of an answer."

Death sneered. "Just be happy that I am giving one." He became serious. "Have you finished your rounds?" He eyed the diadem I now wore.

I shrugged. "Mostly, I still need to visit Kali." When he began to speak, I pointed for him to be silent. "You're not getting rid of me that easily,” I said. “If I were you, I wouldn't even try. Besides, it wouldn't look good for you to try that hard to make me leave."

Moving around him, I descended the stairs and took to the chaise.

Death reluctantly followed, ending with a confused stance just out of arm’s reach. He sighed, glancing up at the balcony. "I'm not trying to get rid of you, but you do need to stay on schedule."

"Do you really think of me as an investment?"

Death's face turned quickly. An astonished look spread across his features before settling into a consuming expression. "No, I could never think of you that way."

The room suddenly felt warm and I became aware that I was sitting on what he used for a bed. Why was he looking at me that way? I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. "It makes me uncomfortable when you do that."

He arched an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Stare at me. It's rude."

Death laughed, but looked away before settling his gaze upon me once more. "Can I ever do anything right with you?" He crossed to the chaise and knelt, leaving me more uncomfortable than his stare had. "I'm not trying to make this worse." His fingers trailed across my jawline and tilted my face to look at him. "Tell me what to do."

I couldn't breathe. I liked it better when I assumed he was a conceited jerk who cared about nothing but himself. Now, I could see the loneliness hidden behind his eyes, I could hear the sincerity of his tone, and feel his longing for someone to really see him. I had always been a sucker for wounded animals, and I had a feeling that Death was more wounded than all the others I had saved. I just wasn't sure I could help him.

"What's your name?"

He seemed shocked by the question, dropped his hand, and regarded me with a smile. "That's what you want?"

I nodded.

"You're sure you don't want anything else?"

I couldn't answer. He cocked his head to the right, regarding me the way a bystander might examine an exotic creature at the zoo.

"What makes you think that my name isn't Death?"

Honestly, I wasn't sure, but I couldn't tell him that. I asked for his name to get him to refrain from touching me, so that I could fall away from his eyes. "It's what you are. That doesn't mean it's who you are."

Death stared me down. It was clear that he was proud of my intelligence, but struggling with the answer to my question. "I've never been asked for my name. Everyone assumes I am simply Death." Standing, he moved to the Pitchrose Fern, lifted the lid, and plucked a single pink flower.

I took the plant, as he offered it to me on his return. He sighed. "My true name is Kai. Though it lost meaning to me long ago. I thought it had faded like this plant, but here you are resurrecting it." He scrubbed his hair nervously. "Is it a bad name?"

I laughed. "You're worried you might have a bad name?"

His eyes were guarded. "No, I'm concerned that you might not approve. After all, you gave my plant such a fitting name. It would be a shame for you to hate mine."

Kai. I churned the name around in my mind. It had a distinctive quality to it. It would roll off the tongue nicely. I doubted that I would meet another Kai in my lifetime. I had expected something more obscure, a name I wouldn't be able to pronounce or something easily repulsive. Kai was lovely in a masculine sort of way. Death even looked like a Kai. He was dark, strange, and there was something hidden beneath the austere way he carried himself, more to him than simply someone who left a trail of dead plants in his wake. If there weren't, he wouldn't care if I hated him.