Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(76)

As he’d claimed my mouth over and over, his grip had been crushing, but I’d nearly cried with pleasure.

On the very night that he’d ridden out, likely to reap some unsuspecting kid, I’d experienced the most erotic dream in my life—of Death?

Dear God, what was happening to me?





33

DAY 281 A.F.

Death was expected back tonight, and I had my excuse for going to his study: returning his book. I simply chose to ignore his “parting gift” jab.

With the memory of that kissing dream firmly buried, I readied myself to see him. I took care with my clothes, wearing a fawn-colored skirt and a scoop-neck navy blouse. The neckline plunged lower than any I’d worn since the apocalypse. I left my hair loose.

I had an agenda for tonight, one made even more important in light of Matthew’s curt check-in last night: —We got away. We all lived.— It was as if he’d been overridden by other calls, the Arcana abuzz for some reason. Something about the Arcane Navigator?

My friends were out there in a dangerous world, doing God only knew what. And I couldn’t help them from here.

I exited the bathroom, crossing to the bed, where Cyclops was sprawled. “How do I look. . . .” I couldn’t manage another word, too stunned even to shriek.

Part of Death’s book was still lodged between the wolf’s mighty jaws; the rest was an array of slobbery bits scattered over my bed, like a crime scene. Cyclops belched wetly around his new four-hundred-year-old chew toy.

“Oh my God.” I had to tell Death that one of his precious books—his favorite—was no more. Under my care, his “child” had been eaten.

When Thanatos’s hooves charged onto the property, heralding Death’s arrival, I trudged down the stairs with leaden feet.

Death strode through the front doors not long after, removing his helmet. He looked exhausted, his eyes dim, blond stubble highlighting his defined jawline. His armor was splashed with mud.

Once he saw me, I could have sworn his eyes lightened a fraction, as if he was happy I was here. He looked approving of my appearance.

Then his eyes went dark once more. “Ah, my lady awaiting her knight’s return,” he said in a derisive tone. “I am far too tired for your intrigues tonight, Empress.”

He looked so whipped that I actually felt sorry for him. How could I be softening toward someone who had me in the crosshairs?

This was probably not the best time to tell him about the book, but I could still shoot for proximity. “Where did you go? Lark said you might be sourcing.” Nothing. I fiddled with my blouse. “Won’t you talk to me?”

“Leave me, creature. I’m in no mood.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way between us.”

“So says the girl who wants me dead.”

I exhaled with disappointment. “I only wanted you dead because you kept terrorizing me, and I knew you’d force the issue until only one of us survived.”

He gave a harsh laugh as he removed his spiked gauntlets. “You believe that’s changed?”

“I believe it could. Wouldn’t you rather have me as a friend than an enemy? Maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have friends. Maybe you never knew.”

His expression said I’d hit the nail on the head.

How awful. “But you could have them now,” I said quietly.

“I hold your life in my hands—and you dare to pity me? Your eyes are filled with it. You think I want friends? Perhaps some like yours?” he scoffed. “Then I wouldn’t need enemies.”

“What does that mean?” My question was forgotten when I spied a new icon on his right hand, a simple white star. “You made a kill.”

Death gave me that unsettling sneer. “The Star was very bold.”

So that’s what the buzz was about. The Star, the Arcane Navigator, was no more.

Feeling sick, I turned away. What if Death truly craved killing? Like Ogen, who hungered for offerings?

In past games, Arcana had said Death preferred to kill with his touch. Perhaps, like Finn, he was compelled to use his power?

Death grabbed my arm, yanking me around. “You, of all people, are giving me a repulsed look? You’ve nearly as many markings as I have!” He released me, splaying his fingers as if he’d just handled a live grenade.

“I took mine in self-defense.”

“And you assume I didn’t? The Star neared much too close to my sanctuary. He sought me.” Death ran his palm over his jaw. “I will protect my home and anyone in it. Even you.”

In a faint voice, I said, “How did you do it?”

“Without my customary ease. Long nights had strengthened the Star, making for ideal conditions for him to use his powers.”

“Like what?” I couldn’t remember.

“Echolocation, heightened senses, the ability to create a light blast from his skin, like a supernova. In a black night, he detonated himself, paralyzing my senses, my body.” Was that the quake we’d felt? The one that had made Ogen roar? “Then he used his night sight to attack.”

“But you got the upper hand? How’d you end him?”

Death closed in on me, armored, terrifying, staring down at me until I started to tremble. He lifted one glove to my face. “These spikes”—he lightly skimmed them down my cheek—“through his temple.”