Belladonna (Belladonna, #1)

by Adalyn Grace

“Your name is no curse, Little Bird. I just like the taste of it.”

“Because death is only a reprieve for the dead, Mr. Thorly. It cares little for those it leaves behind.”

I know you better than you think, just as I know that you will never rid yourself of me, Little Bird. As I will never rid myself of you.”

“I have tried to leave you alone,” he continued. “I have tried not to care. To not get involved. But we are connected, you and I. Our fates—”

“Perhaps it was more selfish of me than I realized, but I couldn’t stand by and watch how they treated you.”

“All those I touch,” Death whispered, “die.” His other hand pressed against her cheek suddenly, and he breathed out a wondrous sigh so heavy that Signa’s entire body warmed. “Except for you, Signa Farrow. When I touch you, I feel you. On you, my influence is temporary.”

“so you see why I enjoy teasing you so. I am not so lonely anymore, Little Bird. Not so lonely at all.”

“You think I’m … What? Death?” Death’s shadows shifted, making him a touch smaller and less intimidating. “A reaper,” he clarified in perhaps the softest voice she’d ever heard. A lake beneath the stars, still and quiet. “Yes.”

For so many years she’d seen him only as the reaper—a shadow with a lethal touch who’d pluck away any and every person in her life. But as he set a hand upon her knee with a touch that made Signa’s heart leap into her throat, she realized he was something else entirely.

He was close enough that she could imagine pulling down that hood of his, and finally looking upon him. There was a heat in her lower belly, for what she envisioned happening after that was far from chaste. Death stepped closer to take her by the shoulders, as though daring her to act on her impulses.

You have the power of the world within you, Signa Farrow. You need only to embrace it. The unspoken truth hung heavy between them—she would be doing more than embracing her powers. She would be embracing him.

I would come to you. His voice dropped lower, almost tender. Should you call me, I will come.

Do not change the parts of yourself that you like to make others comfortable.

But just as a dance ended and she began her retreat, all heads turned to watch a new guest arrive. Signa was certain she’d never seen the man before. Hair silver as starlight was tied at the nape of his neck, while his attire was a black suit of rich imported fabric and boots of the finest dark leather, as were his gloves. On his face was a mask of pure gold—one that had everyone in the room buzzing with whispers. It was a far more gruesome mask than anyone else had dared to wear, almost devilish in its severity, with two long horns spiraling from the base of the skull. He was impressively tall and well-built, and as he stepped forward, people parted for him. He didn’t acknowledge them as he crossed the floor to stand before Signa, nor did he say even a word when he offered his hand to her. She took it before she knew what she was doing. The music disappeared with his touch, and she knew at once who it was that pulled her into his arms.

“Hello, Little Bird. Care to dance?”

With him, Signa no longer wanted to wonder. She wanted to know. Death dipped his head low, words brushing against her ear. “I have waited for you for a very long time, Signa Farrow.” Breathless, she couldn’t find the words to respond. So instead, she lifted up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.

“Because I have waited an eternity to meet you, Signa Farrow.” The words were a balm she clung to, relished. “To me, you are a song to a soul that has never known music. Light to someone who has only seen the darkness. You bring out the absolute worst in me, and I become vindictive toward those who treat you in ways I don’t care for. Yet you also bring out the best in me—I want to be better because of you. Better for you.

“In all my existence, I’ve asked only for one thing—for one person who might understand me, and whom I could let myself touch. When I touch someone, I see the life they’ve lived in flashes of memories as they die. But the first time I touched you, it was your future I saw. A glimpse of you in my arms, dancing in a beautiful red dress beneath the moonlight.” He tilted her chin up and Signa shivered, savoring the touch.

“I believe that I have always been yours, Death. As you were made for me, perhaps I was made for you. For I want to feel the way I feel when I am by your side forever. I want to feel the way I feel when you touch me.”

Signa knew before she wound an arm around his neck—before she pressed her chest against his—that there would be no turning back. When they kissed, his touch broke something within her. Something small and timid. Something that had been holding her back for too long.

“I have waited for you for millennia, Signa Farrow.” There was a silky husk to his voice now, too pleased for his own good. “Since the dawn of this earth, I have waited. You are mine, and I am yours. And together, this world is ours.”

Family arguments were a new experience, and certainly not her forte.

“A human life is a beautiful thing,” he said. “You humans … you feel. You feel so deeply that it consumes you. There were humans I kept a watch over, though I would blink and they’d be fifty, sixty years older—and the time would come for me to meet them. For the longest time, I pitied them for their short lives. And I admit, Signa, that I have grown more callous with my age. But I have also grown to admire humans. They’ve such a short time to experience their lives, and so they must feel deeply. They must experience in one lifetime things it’s taken me an eternity to experience. When I see men like Elijah, rather than feel guilt for what I’ve done, I remember that he feels sorrow because he loved so deeply. And were I not real, Little Bird, were I not Death, he would never have experienced that love. So which is better? To live forever, or to live and love?”

You are not cursed—you are a reaper. You are the night incarnate, the ferrier of souls. You are the bridge between the living and the dead—a caged bird that’s ready to fly. So spread your wings, Signa Farrow, because you are limitless. Spread your wings, and oh, how we’ll fly.”

And so she curled her fingers around his. “Neither of us will ever be alone again.”

We will try. And in the meantime, I’d like to make use of the time we have left.” Death swallowed as Signa shifted upon the bed. It was fortunate she was still in a tea dress—one without a corset, which she could easily undo herself. Her eyes flicked to his with a silent question, and Death responded by twisting to pull her onto him so that she straddled his lap. “Are you certain?” he asked. “Even knowing that it may be some time before we see each other again?” “You are the one thing I am certain of.”