Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4)

by Laura Thalassa

  “How I have yearned for this moment.” His knuckles graze my cheek. “And yet none of my wildest yearnings could’ve prepared me for the sight of you beneath me, or the press of your skin against mine.”

  I shift a little, the action causing him to make a noise low in his throat.

  “And the feel of you clenched around my cock like you don’t want it to leave.”

  “I don’t,” I admit.

  The ground trembles at my response.

  Death’s thrusts begin to pick up speed, his breath hitching as he finds his pace. A line has formed between his eyebrows and I’ve never seen anyone as sexy as Thanatos is in this moment, all his exquisite agony on display.

  “I can’t get over the feel of you.” His fingers skim over my flesh. “And the taste of you,” he adds, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “You are how I expected wine to taste.”

  His wings flex with each thrust, and I can’t help but reach out and run my fingers over the inky black feathers.

  He groans, driving deeper into me. His cock pistons in and out—again and again and again.

  I spread my legs wantonly, moaning. This is definitely worth the direct hit my morals are taking.

  “Thanatos.”

  His eyes flash. “Say my name again,” he demands.

  “Thanatos.” I barely get it out. I’m all sensation.

  Rain is battering against the house, and outside lightning flashes. For an instant, I see strange, skeletal markings overlay Thanatos’s skin and wings, then they’re gone. Somehow, the terrifying display only adds to his dangerous appeal.

  I’m writhing against the horseman, my entire body moving with each throbbing thrust, barreling me towards an orgasm.

  Not ready.

  Not nearly ready.

  This is the best sex of my life and I want to last more than a couple minutes.

  But Death is having none of that. He’s given himself over to pleasure completely, pumping into me with abandon as he devours my expression. Somewhere along the way this went from soft and sensual to primal.

  Can’t put it off any longer—

  “Death!”

  My orgasm explodes through me, my vision darkening in the wake of it.

  The floor trembles, rattling the bed, and then Thanatos bellows, his wings spreading wide. His hips slam into mine, his cock sinking deep within me. The earth shakes and lightning flashes again, illuminating that skeletal overlay. Outside I hear strange, fearsome noises over the rain.

  The two of us come down slowly from our orgasms. The horseman’s wings fold back up and his thrusts turn languid. Eventually, he pulls out. But then he’s kissing me all across my cheeks and the bridge of my nose, my eyelids and forehead, and finally my mouth.

  I feel my throat tightening at how gentle he’s being, how cherished he’s making me feel.

  “Lazarus, Lazarus, Lazarus,” he murmurs. Outside the rain is subsiding. “Tell me that was the most amazing experience you have ever felt—because it was the most amazing thing I ever have.”

  Tell this virgin that he just gave me the best sex of my life? If I wasn’t so mind-blowingly satisfied, I’d be annoyed at the sheer audacity Death has to not fuck up the most fuck-up-able first-time act.

  My fingers slip through his hair and I catch his mouth with mine. And then I nod against him. “It was.”

  He pulls away, his dark eyes intense. His gaze moves down my body, his expression hazy with possessive pride. His gaze stops at the juncture between my thighs, and he must be seeing evidence of his own orgasm.

  He shakes his head in disbelief. “This is very, very strange to me, Lazarus.” He runs his fingers over my pussy, smearing his cum. “Strange and enthralling.”

  Now that my skin’s cooling and the deed’s been done, my heart begins to pound, my stomach knotting up as I look at him.

  I don’t know what to do.

  In the past, I had so many reasons to push Thanatos away. But now, those have evaporated. More than that, I have a deep seated fear that somehow, this is what breaks the spell that’s come over Death. Now that he has been inside me, whatever force that drove his obsession with me will wither away.

  Yesterday, I left Thanatos after I had finished him off. I brace for him to do the same.

  Instead, he withdraws his hand from between my thighs and stretches out on his side. A moment later he pulls me to him, his face achingly close.

  My heart is still pounding, but that sick feeling is evaporating away, particularly once he throws one of his legs over my own.

  I reach out and touch that perfect face, with his enviable cheekbones, and I stroke his pale skin. He really does have the sort of face that myths are made of. I’ve never in my life seen someone who looks like this, and I could never imagine what it might feel like to have them look at me the way Death is looking at me now—like I am the only thing worth having in this world. His eyes are devouring me, the candlelight making them look like water in the moonlight.

  I don’t look away. I stare and stare and let this terrifying feeling between us build.

  “Lazarus,” Thanatos says softly. He wets his lips, and the two of us are balancing on some precipice.

  I don’t respond, ensnared by his eyes.

  “Kismet, tell me you are mine,” he says softly.

  I’ve spent so long fighting, it’s a strange feeling, giving in.

  “I am yours.”

  For better or worse, I am.

  Chapter 48

  Hallettsville, Texas

  July, Year 27 of the Horsemen

  I wake to the press of Death’s mouth against my body. I’m already arching against him, my flesh hungry for more of his touch.

  “I tried to let you sleep—I did—but I cannot get this fire you’ve stoked out of my veins,” he whispers against my skin.

  Why hadn’t I thought to give in to the horseman earlier? This is so much preferable to fighting.

  As Death moves up my body, trailing kisses in his wake, I feel the brush of his erection. He stops only when the two of us are face to face, his hips nestled between mine.

  “Tell me you no longer want me like I want you,” he says, searching my eyes. “Tell me I am mad.”

  “You are mad,” I say.

  Something flickers in his eyes. Disappointment?

  “But then,” I add, “so am I.”

  With that, I pull him to me.

  Early morning sunlight filters into the room and someone is drawing shapes into my skin. I smile, stretching as I bask in the feel of it all.

  I jolt when I remember.

  Thanatos.

  I turn, and there he is, propped up on a forearm, his naked body pressed against mine, and I can smell faint traces of frankincense and myrrh wafting off his skin—or maybe it’s on my skin. Or the sheets. Somehow, he’s everywhere.

  In the sobering light of morning, this is all real in a way that last night wasn’t. We don’t just go our separate ways. This will continue on and on.

  Death’s eyes crinkle at their corners. “You look like I have left my mark on you.”

  I discreetly run my tongue over my swollen lips and smooth my tousled hair. “You seem pleased by that.”

  “I am. I have never left my mark on any mortal—at least, not like this.”

  I feel my cheeks heat.

  His hand is back on me, his fingers drawing lines across my body once more.

  “To think I once hurt this skin.” A very real shudder courses through him. “Unfathomable.”

  I mean, my pussy took a beating last night and it probably will take another one today, so it’s not too unfathomable …

  “I have hurt you too,” I remind him.

  “To protect yourself and your people. I was always the aggressor, even when you waited to ambush me. I know you only ever did it to protect those people—people who were strangers to you.”

  He strikes something raw and real, and it hurts.

  “I would hunt down my enemies too if I knew they w
ere bent on destroying all that I cherished.” He has an intense look as he says that.

  I swallow. “You have a lot of perception for a man who isn’t even human.” I don’t know that many people can empathize this well.

  Death exhales, still staring at me. “I have had hours alone to think about it all.”

  “But it changes nothing,” I say quietly—almost questioningly.

  “But it changes nothing,” he agrees.

  “I still intend to stop you,” I say. Just in case he’s forgotten.

  “I know,” Death agrees, his eyes sad.

  Now it’s my turn to exhale, the easy, uncomplicated morning dissipating away. Thinking of humanity reminds me of Ben, and all I must do to save him for good.

  I have a plea for Thanatos, one I want to make so badly it hurts. But being in this man’s bed changes nothing—he said so himself—and I am afraid of drawing his attention in this particular direction.

  “What is it, Lazarus?” he asks. “You look as though a cloud has covered the sun—what troubles you?”

  I stare into Death’s strange and complex eyes and I come to a decision.

  “I spent an entire year hiding from you, all to keep my son alive,” I say.

  Thanatos’s face grows solemn.

  “Can you promise me that you won’t kill him?” I whisper.

  “Kismet,” he says, “I take everyone. Not even your son is exempt from that fate—but I have no plans to take him any time soon.”

  I nearly choke on my relief, even as a part of me now wants to analyze the horseman’s definition of soon.

  I grab Death’s hand and clasp it tightly in mine. “Promise me you won’t.”

  I’m supposed to be seducing Death for humanity’s sake, but I’ve always placed Ben’s life above the greater good. I’m not about to grow magnanimous all of a sudden.

  A line forms between the horseman’s brows.

  “I will do anything you like.” I press in closer as I speak.

  Death’s nostril’s flare and his jaw clenches with his restraint. “Stop it, Lazarus. I don’t make deals like that.” Even though he wants to. He definitely wants to.

  He’s still unbending on this. I try not to let that worry me—but it does. Sleeping with him was supposed to soften him. What do I do if it doesn’t?

  You spent a year battling this man into changing his ways. You can spend a year banging the change out of him. Have a little patience, Laz.

  “Tell me about your Ben,” Thanatos says. “That night in the hospital, you said you thought he was deathless, like you. Why did you think that?”

  I shudder out a breath. “The first time you took me captive, shortly after I escaped, I came across a nearby town …” I fall back into the memory. “The people were all dead, but the structures still stood.” I can still feel the chill sting of the rain and the desperation that pushed me onwards. “I only meant to stop long enough for supplies, but then I heard a baby crying inside one of the homes.”

  My eyes meet Death’s. “Ben survived your attack on the town.”

  The horseman listens raptly, though now his lips pull down into a slight frown. “That’s impossible,” he murmurs, even though I can tell he believes me.

  “You thought my survival was impossible too,” I say.

  Thanatos inclines his head.

  I draw in a breath, and continue. “So I took Ben, and I fled from you.”

  I run my teeth over my lower lip, lost in thought. “The truly strange thing,” I admit, “is that it is nearly identical to how my mother found me two decades ago.”

  I swear the horseman’s gaze sharpens on me.

  “How so?” he asks.

  “My mother discovered me in a town that Pestilence had ridden through. She’d heard my cries as she was passing through, just as I heard Ben’s, and she saved me and took me in as one of her own.”

  Death looks troubled by this information, but before either of us can say anything more, movement out of the corner of my eye has me jolting. Without thinking, I clutch Death close to me.

  I feel the horseman gaze down at me as he pulls me in deeper.

  “It’s only my revenants,” he says as the skeletons in question move through the room, hauling a chest. “I wanted to wait until you were awake before I had them bring in your things.”

  I sit up, keeping myself covered with a blanket—even though the only other person in this room who has actual eyes is Death, and he’s already seen his fill. I watch as more skeletons enter and fill the closet and bathroom up with clothes and amenities.

  I get my first real look at our surroundings now too.

  The inside of the home has a southwestern feel to it, with painted tiles inset around doorways and windows and a red tile floor covered by a large sheepskin rug.

  Even as I watch, the skeletons are removing some of the less permanent objects that decorated the space. They take hats, shoes, clothes—all those little, personal mementos of the previous owners.

  I continue to watch the revenants. They still give me the chills, but when one happens to come over and lay out a platter of sliced bread and cheeses, I don’t pause too much before I start eating.

  “This was considerate of you,” I say to Death.

  “I live in fear of the day I hear your stomach speak again,” he says. “I think she hates me more than the rest of you.”

  I almost forgot about that time Thanatos heard my stomach growl.

  “I didn’t realize it had made such an impression on you,” I say.

  “Everything you do makes an impression on me,” he says solemnly.

  At that, I quiet.

  Death doesn’t have much room for remorse in him, but he seems to have saved a little for me.

  I polish off the bread and cheese, not bothering to offer the horseman any. I already know he’ll refuse. Once I finish, I dust my hands over the tray.

  “Can you have your skeletons draw up a bath—one with hot water?” I ask curiously. It’s the rarest of indulgences in this day and age.

  Thanatos’s brows pinch together, but his gaze slides to the nearest revenants. Abruptly, one of them stops what it’s doing and moves to the adjoining bathroom.

  I can hear it working a hand pump, and then the splash of water.

  “Have you ever had a bath?” I ask the horseman, perking up a bit.

  Death shakes his head. “No.”

  I grab his hand and tug him as I slide out of bed. “Then let’s hope the tub is big enough for the two of us—and your wings.”

  “Why would it need to be?” he asks.

  “Because you’re going to join me.”

  The bath is big enough for the two of us, I discover when I pull the horseman into the room. It’s a sunken tub, the basin large enough to hold two adults—though Death is going to have to drape his wings over the edge.

  The bath is mostly full, though the water is still being warmed up. A skeleton enters the bathroom then, holding a kettle. I ignore the burning urge to cover my naked body—they don’t have eyes—though I do back up into one of Thanatos’s wings.

  It curves around me, and when I glance up, I see the horseman gazing at me, wearing a small smile.

  “I have seen you face pain and certain death stoically, kismet. Surely my revenants do not frighten you.”

  “Of course not,” I agree, not moving away from his wing.

  Death’s smile reaches his eyes. After a moment, he takes my chin. “You can always hide in my wings—though I will require a kiss every now and then.”

  Before I can respond, the horseman bends down and steals one from my lips. It’s over before it’s even begun, and I’m left staring at Thanatos’s face as he pulls away.

  “That was sneaky,” I say, though my delivery comes out all wrong. I sound full of want.

  “I am standing naked next to you,” Death says, his voice low, “nothing about me is sneaky right now.”

  He does have a point.

  The horseman turns his
attention back to the tub, where more skeletons are pouring hot water into the basin.

  “Tell me about bathtubs,” he says.

  I try not to laugh. “I’m sure you know about them.”

  He frowns a little. “I know humans wash themselves. But that is about it.”

  Right. Okay.

  “There’s not much to them,” I say as the skeletons file out of the bathroom. “You fill the tub with water, you get in, and you bathe.”

  Death frowns again, and it makes my heart pound a little faster. I don’t really understand what divides the horseman’s vast knowledge on certain subjects with his ignorance on others, but with this … he seems to be more than a little lost.

  “Here,” I say, stepping into the bath. I almost sigh at the hot temperature. It’s been far too long since I took a hot bath. Turning around, I reach out a hand for him. “Come on in—I promise you’ll like it.”

  He takes my hand but doesn’t immediately let me lead him in. Instead, he lowers his other hand into the water.

  “Are we going to wash each other?” he asks, a note of curiosity in his voice.

  “Of course,” I say, letting his hand go so that I can sink into the bath.

  Ahhh. This is divine.

  I think it’s my ease that finally convinces the horseman to get in—that or my boobs, since they’re basically waving to him.

  Thanatos steps into the water, doing his best to sit down across from me. He glances over his shoulder at his wings, which do in fact drape over the edge of the basin. “I clearly wasn’t designed with bathtubs in mind.”

  He really wasn’t designed for human life in general—not with those wings.

  The horseman settles back as best as he can. “What now?” he asks.

  “Now you enjoy it. I mean, if this was a cold bath, you’d grab a bar of soap and scrub yourself as fast as you could. But hot baths you soak in.”

  Death sits there gazing at the water, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips, as though he doesn’t know how to just idly sit and enjoy something.

  On a whim, I move over to him, slipping onto his lap and straddling his thighs, his cock trapped between us. Beneath me, I can feel it thickening.

  His hands slide around my waist, and I can see the want in his gaze, but he doesn’t press me for any sort of intimacy. To be honest, the horseman probably has no idea how much sex is too much for a mortal to take. Death really doesn’t have limits.