Part 20 (2/2)

Grave Dance Kalayna Price 68450K 2022-07-22

Death lifted my hand to his lips, drawing me several steps forward in the process, but he didn't so much kiss my knuckles as smile into my skin. His eyes watched me as he did this; then, as if we were dancing, he spun me so my back was to him. Dropping my hand, he wrapped one arm around my shoulders. He was tall enough that he could prop his chin on the top of my head.

”I heard Alex was having a slumber party and decided to crash,” Death said, and though I couldn't see it, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

I'm tall-I have been ever since I turned twelve and in a single year shot up from a respectable twelve-year-old height of four-eleven to a gangly height of five-ten. I'd slumped for the rest of the year, until I'd left the academy for summer break and my father had threatened to make me spend my entire vacation in a social polis.h.i.+ng camp if I didn't stand up straight. I'd soon stopped caring that I towered over my female peers and learned to enjoy the fact that I could look most guys in the eye. It was some time after that when I decided kicka.s.s boots that added an extra three inches to my height were the only way to go. All that said, I wasn't used to feeling short. But with Falin towering in front of me looking like some sort of p.i.s.sed-off Greek G.o.d carved out of marble, and Death pulling me back against his wide chest, I felt downright pet.i.te.

I also felt like I was suddenly caught in a situation that was about to spiral wildly out of control.

”You shouldn't be wasting energy. We need to get your body temperature back up, not invite in the chill.” Falin stepped forward and, apparently deciding the best thing to do was ignore Death completely, rubbed his hands over my arms-which was more annoying than helpful.

Death's arm wrapped tighter around my shoulders. ”I have body heat.”

”Stop it, both of you.” I shrugged away from Falin's hands, which earned me a frown from the fae, until I ducked out from under Death's arm. Then I garnered frowns from both men.

But I couldn't escape Death's touch. He and I had to be in contact for him to be visible unless I wanted to start channeling major amounts of energy, which I didn't, maybe even couldn't at this point. So I stood there for an awkward moment, my hand clasped in his, but my arm outstretched to add s.p.a.ce between our bodies. How do I get myself into these things? Well, there was always one safe topic: business.

”There was a collector at the crime scene earlier. Or at least I think he was a collector. But he collected the souls before death.” Well, with the female skimmer he did, though I could have sworn the male was going to make it before the collector showed and snagged the man's soul. ”Can you guys do that? Get impatient and collect a soul early?”

I'd been focusing on studying the layer of dirt coating my boots from my recent misadventures in the great outdoors, but as the silence stretched I looked up and found Death staring at me. Not the dark but intense I'm-imaginingyou-with-a-lot-less-clothing stare he'd been p.r.o.ne to giving me lately but a you've-stumbled-into-something-over-yourhead stare.

”What did he look like?” he asked.

”Male. Average height. Late twenties to early thirties. Dark hair. Long dark trench coat. What are you thinking?”

Death frowned, his gaze moving past me.

”Could he be involved?” Falin had snapped into cop mode while I wasn't paying attention. ”He was at a murder scene that had a rift into the Aetheric. Could a . . . collector”-the way he said the word made it clear it wasn't a t.i.tle he was accustomed to using-”have ripped through to the Aetheric?”

Death shook his head, but I wasn't sure if he was disagreeing or simply dismissing his own thoughts. Then his eyes focused on me again. ”You're trembling.”

”I'm fine.” I should have saved my breath.

”She needs sleep,” Falin said, his gaze going icy again.

”With you, I suppose?” Death asked.

Falin crossed his arms. ”It's an option.”

”I'm fine,” I repeated. Not that either of them noticed-they were too busy attempting to stare holes into each other. Perfect. Just what I need. I was cold to the core, magically drained, and far beyond the point of exhaustion.

”You know what, guys, maybe you're right. Have fun with the p.i.s.sing contest. I'm going to bed.” I dropped Death's hand, closed my s.h.i.+elds, and marched over to collapse fully dressed on my bed. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Chapter 21.

I woke trapped under a warm arm. A quick status check showed I was still in my own bed and fully dressed, though my boots had vanished at some point in the night. I was sure the warm body curled around me belonged to Falin only because Death was staring at me from where he leaned against the wall across from my bed.

”Did you stay all night?” I kept my voice low, trying not to wake the man behind me.

Death lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ”Wasn't much night left. More morning and early afternoon.”

”You know, that is kind of creepy stalkeresque.”

”I'm not the one who crawled into bed with you after you were asleep.”

Point. The men in my life were . . . complicated. And so much for my resolve. I craned my neck to glance back at Falin. His face was relaxed, peaceful with sleep. Good. Now to get out of this bed without waking him.

Easier said than done.

I tried to slide out from under his arm, but the more I wriggled, the more his muscles flexed, tightening around me. He dragged me back against his chest without waking, like it was a reflex.

c.r.a.p.

I grabbed his wrist, hauling his arm off me. Then he did wake. The bed s.h.i.+fted as he moved, and he lifted his wrist from my hands, wrapping his arm around me once again.

His breath tickled along my jaw as he placed a kiss on the sensitive skin under my ear. ”Good morning,” he whispered, his voice still rough with sleep.

My mouth went dry, my body waking to answer his in ways I really wished it wouldn't-especially with Death still standing three feet away, watching me.

”I, uh-I have to pee.” I broke free of Falin's arm and rolled to the edge of the bed.

As I crossed the foot of the bed, Falin flopped over onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, he bunched both his hands in his hair. ”How many hours should I wait to start breakfast?”

”What? I-” Okay, so I had hid out in the bathroom the last time I woke with Falin in my bed, but this was different. ”I'll be right back.”

Death trailed me. I ignored him until I reached the bathroom-I had no intention of making him visible and encouraging a repeat of last night's posturing. Once I closed the door, I rounded on him.

”Out. This is alone time.”

”You're cute when you're fl.u.s.tered.”

I frowned at him. ”I'm being serious.”

”Then you should seriously make him leave.” He jerked his chin toward the inner wall and the one-room apartment beyond.

”He's not here in the bathroom.”

Death gave me a look that said I knew what he meant, and I sighed.

”He's helping me, okay?”

Death just continued to frown, and I turned my back on him. His reflection in the mirror watched as I tried to drag a brush through the snarls that my curls had turned into after they'd been slept on, and before that, hours of being tossed around in the wind while crossing over from the land of the dead.

”How do omelets sound for breakfast?” Falin's voice called from somewhere in the kitchen, and Death's reflection shook its head.

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