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Releasing him, I bring the blade to my mouth. I’m mystified as to why I even do it. Wolfgang’s darkened gaze widens, seeming just as surprised as I am. It doesn’t prevent me from slowly licking the blade, my tongue collecting his blood into my mouth.
“You vile little whore,” I can’t help but hiss.
“If we’re already damned like you claim we are,” he says low and dark, fingers digging into my cheeks. His face is serious but the corner of his mouth curls into a bitter smile. “Then killing you is not how I want to meet my death.”
If this is what it tastes like to die, then there is a reason why I worship the god of death.
And here we are now. At the very crescendo of our forbidden dance. A dance macabre, where even the threat of our own deaths did not stop us.
I kiss her like this might be our last.
“Haven’t you heard, Crèvecoeur?” I chuckle darkly while dragging the tip against her wet slit. “You’ve always been mine.”
“And you’ll be mine even when your god has claimed us both.”
I slip his ring on my index finger, the gold now unexpectedly warm. “Sealing our fates.”
“My, my, my,” he says with mirth. He pulls me even closer, my head now resting on his bare chest as he leans into the pillows. “What a pleasant thought that is.”
“The servant of death on her knees is a good start.”
That I love Mercy more than anything in this damned world. Even myself.
