A Twist of the Blade (Shadows and Crowns, #2)

by S.M. Gaither

“Well, I’m sorry too,” she said after a pause. “About…?” “About your sexual frustrations.” He massaged the space between his eyes. “When you were the god of Death—” “I’m still the god of Death.” “—and you couldn’t, you know, get any, did it negatively affect your work? Did you go on killing sprees to work through your unmet desires?” “How much have you actually had to drink tonight?”

“What is this?” “It’s called water.” “You’ve tricked me again.” “Yes, but for your own good.” “Well, it tastes terrible compared to the wine.” “Just drink it, you ridiculous human.”

But it was impossible not to love him in the silence, impossible not to worship the dozens of little movements of him. The way he worked his fingers into the spaces between hers. The way he lifted his gaze to the stars and studied them while his free hand moved along her arm, as though he was retracing constellations against her skin. The way he noticed her shivering, and then without a word he made a bed of that blanket she’d been wrapped up in earlier, and then he retrieved her coat and draped it around her. He brought a second blanket from somewhere, too, and he wrapped this around them both and pulled her in close.

What he knew for certain was that he had fallen in love with her twice now. I answer to a higher power, he’d told her. But perhaps there was no higher power than this. Than her.

He stepped forward to meet her. Words failed him as soon as she said hello. So he didn’t bother with words; he just took her in his arms and kissed her, because he could not stand another second of not kissing her, and because he didn’t know how many more chances he would have to do it.

to head for the armory and—” “I love you,” he said. She dropped the bag she’d started to rifle through. “What did you just say?” “I love you, and I always have, in this lifetime and in every other.”