Death (The Four Horsemen, #4)

by Laura Thalassa

“Hello again, Death,” I say. “Did you miss me?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words clipped. “Don’t be,” I wheeze out. “Next time we meet, I fully plan on gutting you alive.” And this time I won’t let my damned conscience get in the way.

Death no longer needs to kill me, I think my own embarrassment will do the job just fine.

“You think to flee from me, Lazarus?” he calls out. “You, a mortal woman, and me, death incarnate?” “Yes!” I shout. I mean, he asked.

“If you’re planning on killing me, you’re going to be disappointed.” I’m not so easy to get rid of. “Kill you?” he says, incredulously, clearly taken aback. “Woman, we want to unleash you.”

“Come now, tootsie,” Famine calls out, “don’t tell me you doubt your ability to fuck a man into seeing reason.”

“Are we not going to finish our previous conversation?” he demands. “There’s nothing to finish,” I say. “On the contrary, there is the matter of finishing your pleasure.”

“I have given you so much pain, kismet. Let me give you pleasure to match.”

This is just one more thing I’ll have to file away under “Shit Lazarus Doesn’t Notice When She’s Boning a Hot Dude.”

And this is the tale of how I, Lazarus Gaumond, fucked over the world.

“You snatched my loneliness from me,” he breathes, “and I hope you never give it back.”

I hear one of the women whoop. “They did it! Pussy power for the win!”