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Tears spring to my eyes and I’m frozen, stunned by the immensity of it all, of the fact that life will keep going on without my dad in it and how fucking unfair that is.
“Did you know I forged this sword?” Death says, staring down at it in his hand. “One of my many talents. My hands might be deadly, but I assure you they are especially skilled where it counts.”
You can call me Death. And I will call you mine.”
“Never trust the living. Never trust a God. And never trust a redhead.” He glances at me. “I’m afraid you’ve already done all three.”
“You might like it in the end. Oh, you’ll fight me on everything, you’ll hate me with all your fury. But you might love to hate me, and that will make all the difference.”
He likes to think he’s not cruel, an old woman’s voice says, but the real truth is that he is. Death is cruel, no matter how you view it—or him.
“Like it or not, you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice thick and husky and brimming of promise. “But if you choose to like it, you might even love it.”
“Now, I want you to spend the night on that bed,” he says, quietly commanding. “Naked. On all fours. Your ass in the air. I will come for you when I feel like it. You will not turn around, you will not look at me. You will take whatever I give you and you will take it well. Do you understand?”
“When I’m done with you, little bird, you’ll forget everyone you ever let inside you. You’ll forget every climax you’ve ever had. Every tongue that’s licked your body, every finger that’s touched your skin, every cock that’s fucked your cunt. After this, there will only be me.”
“Fuck yes, you’ll take me,” he grinds out, his fingers digging into my hips as he keeps squeezing himself in. “You’ll take all of me, every thick, hard inch of my cock until there’s stars in your eyes and no air left in your lungs.”
