Death is a Bitch Page 3

  Azrael touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  His soft voice shook the last of her resolve, and she laid her head against his chest. “Hold me.”

  “Anytime,” Azrael whispered in her ear. His embrace doubled when his wings enfolded her within their downy curtain.

  She sank into his chest. Such a wonderful respite.

  He cupped her chin in his palm and tilted her face to his.

  She looked up into his eyes wishing she could lose herself in their crystal depths.

  She inhaled the warm air he breathed out and drank in his scent — of sky and cloud, wind and rain. All the elements come to life. It ignited her deepest desires. Her senses flooded with the fire of the sun, whorling like a storm.

  She trailed her lips up his neck and whispered his name. She knew she need say nothing else.

  ***

  Azrael’s embrace tightened. Could she truly desire him?

  He eased away to take her in, make certain he wasn’t making the biggest blunder of his existence. In her upturned face, there could be no mistake. Fire lit her eyes, lids heavy with desire, and focused on his lips. She rose to tiptoe to graze her lips against his. The sweetest sensation he’d ever known.

  A brief jolt, and then a singular madness consumed him. He crushed his mouth to hers, tongue exploring. When she grasped his head and pressed against him, his equilibrium faltered, and his wings spread to keep him from falling over.

  The air around them crackled. Their desire spanned the breadth of the universe and the length of time eternal.

  Azrael held her closer, his hands exploring everywhere, and clouds rushed together in a heated embrace. She wrapped herself around him, opened to him, and the winds around them swept hot air crashing into cold. Desire sizzled through him and lightning crackled. They moved with the rhythm of his wings, faster and faster, streaking through the black night. Glimmering stars swirled past and the planets hummed in delight.

  He murmured and planted light kisses along her neck as if in a fever. His mouth found hers desperately hungry for her sweet taste. She shuddered against his touch, his damp, warm skin moving against hers, igniting a trail of heat. The skies roiled as they clashed against one another.

  Bolts of lightning seared the heavens. Azrael could hold back no longer. Her thighs clenched tight and drew a moan from him. She threw back her head in ecstasy, signaling the release sweeping over her, equally delicious to see and feel. A release he needed, too.

  Azrael clutched her tighter, the tremors wracking his body reverberating through hers. After a final tremor, his wings stilled, then enfolded her. They plummeted downward, leaving a plume of sparkling light in their wake.

  From Earth, it would look like an incredible thunderstorm, followed by a shooting star falling in a blaze of wondrous glory. They landed in a field of wildflowers atop a mountain, his wings shielding her as they tumbled through the columbine, king’s crown, purple fringe, larkspur, and tall chiming bells. The flowers released their scent, and the air grew sweet with it. So did Death’s skin, and Azrael let his lips linger open to taste it.

  To him, she was sanctuary and salvation, bliss and enchantment. Eternity wasn’t long enough a time to explore the universe they could create together.

  Exhilarated, he reveled in her caresses along his back, how she teased her fingers across the base of his wings. He pressed closer, nuzzling every inch of her.

  She curled her arm around him and stroked his hair. Such a rare moment, he didn’t want it to end. But would it ever happen again?

  “What’s wrong?” She shifted to study him.

  Nervousness twisted his tongue. Desperate was never a turn-on for anyone. He grappled for the right thing to say. When she sat up with a groan and a scowl at her tattoo, he knew he’d missed his chance.

  “Duty calls.”

  He caught her around the waist. “Must you leave now?”

  She stroked his hair and he closed his eyes, reveling in her warmth, her scent. “I wish I didn’t have to,” she said. “But I’m sure you have to get back to work, too.” She rose and extended her arm to the sky.

  Somewhere along their path through the galaxy he’d shed her dress. A distant flicker alerted its return, and it fluttered down and draped across her open palm, its filaments sparkling like tiny stars.

  Standing, he straightened his tunic. So easy for him. But then, he enjoyed watching Death slipped her gown over her head, its silkiness molding to her curves. She made dressing a sensual act, almost sexier than stripping. Especially when stepping into her stilettos, the muscles of her long legs taut and lean.

  She glanced up, and he realized he was grinning. “What?”

  “I like watching you reassemble yourself.”

  She fastened the strap of her shoe. “I suppose now that I’m assembled I should go.”

  “Wait,” he blurted.

  “What is it?”

  “I….” He clenched and unclenched his fist. Just ask her! “May I see you again?”

  She glided up to him, and cupped her palm to his cheek. “Of course.” She sent an exasperated glance at her tattoo. “I have to go.”

  As she stepped away, he resisted the urge to grasp her, hold her there.

  With a whispered “Goodbye,” she vanished into the night.

  ***

  The warmth of Azrael’s touch followed Death across the skies. Who’d have guessed? Beneath his aloof exterior, Mr. High and Mighty—in charge of the Department of Death and Dying—hid an amazing lover. She loved how he responded to every caress with equal passion. The only thing stiff about Azrael, she had more grace than to repeat. But whew, she had trouble concentrating on her duties after such an intense time.

  Darkness shrouded the alley, though she needed no guidance. The dim glow of the fading soul led her. A man slumped against a dumpster, head drooping against his chest, hair matted with sweat and grime. Blood flowed through three gunshot wounds blasted through his stomach. Someone obviously wanted him to suffer before dying.

  Through fluttering lids, the man looked up. His features contorted, hard and full of hatred. Teeth clenched, he muttered, “No.”

  She really wasn’t up for an argument. Not tonight. “It’s time.” She extended a hand, but knew he wouldn’t take it.

  “No way, bitch.” He clutched the edge of the dumpster as if to anchor himself to this world.

  Oh, he tested her patience. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. In the end, it’s all the same to me.” Still, she’d rather not linger in this slum.

  His mouth twisted into a grimace as he braced his arm behind him, his hand searching for purchase on the debris-littered surface. “I ain’t goin’ with you. Not yet.”

  Hellbent on revenge? She’d seen it too often and didn’t have time for it. Definitely not the way to win her sympathy either.

  “Sorry, but yes you are. Now.” She bent her arm and the silver bracelet on her wrist tinkled like otherworldly music. It silenced the man’s rant while she fingered through the charms for the particular one she sought.

  Ah yes, the cage. Mostly she hated to resort to the tools of her trade, especially this one. She reserved it for the most unsavory of souls. Once trapped inside, she could stifle their screams with a snap.

  She touched its tiny door and it flew open.

  The man’s eyes snapped wide, then drifted shut as the glowing thread of life ebbed from his body and floated inside the trap. Nothing so pure as a baby’s delicate filaments. Tarnish mottled this man’s cord like a cancer eating away at his soul. As the thread disappeared into the cage, he unleashed a string of obscenities. With one light touch, the door slammed shut. A second touch sealed it, airtight and soundproof.

  The stench of her surroundings assaulted her senses. Glancing down, she hiked up her skirt. “Yuck.”

  Another touch of a charm brought her to their destination. She suspected the outcome of this one would be Hell, but it wasn’t her call. At least he hadn’t invoked Damien’
s assistance. After his odd reaction when she left with Azrael, she didn’t look forward to seeing him again. No need to feel guilty; she’d never encouraged Damien. They’d occasionally talked shop over drinks, and he flirted openly, but he treated every female as if she inspired his greatest lust. Still, the anger in his face as they’d flown off…strange. Very strange.

  The next time she caught up to him, she’d buy him a drink and smooth things over.

  ***

  Azrael summoned his willpower, but found little. He inhaled deeply to clear his head but the scent of Death lingered on his tunic, in this place. He wished only to revel in the memory of their lovemaking. Unfortunately, his team awaited. Without constant coordination their efforts would turn to pandemonium. He veered upward, aiming for their meeting place within the upper chambers.

  From the outside, this section of the fortress resembled a fairytale castle, but the interior was sleek, onyx floors divided by glass walls. As he strode down the corridor, the meeting room—and his team—came into view.

  None appeared pleased. Zafir and Nul leaned across the polished granite tabletop like two common curs, snarling at one another. From the waving hands and downturn of mouths, the five others argued.

  Thank the gods for soundproofing. Any passersby might doubt his authority over them.

  Azrael strode into the room. “I see you started without me.”

  A cacophony of voices rent the air. Azrael slammed a palm onto the table. “Sit.” If they were going to act like dogs, he’d treat them as such.

  Disparate grumbles replaced their yelling, but they slowly sank to the granite benches on either side.

  After sweeping his wings behind him, Azrael sat. “Nul. What is going on?”

  Team captain, Nul had proved invaluable more times than Azrael had tallied. If only Nul could resist the challenge of working with Zafir, who’d long coveted the top ranking position.

  Nul rose. “Miscommunications led to a slip-up, sir. I hoped to rectify it before the meeting, but….” He raised his hands.

  “Details. Now.” Azrael braced for the news. As Nul raced to tell the tale, Zafir broke in time and again, forcing Azrael to remind them of the dignity of their duties.

  His thoughts trailed to Death, and he bit his lip, remembering the feel of her silken skin against his.

  Their parting had been less than he’d hoped, but next time would be better. He’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Three

  Hard edges bit into Sisyphus’ feet as he scaled the rocky slope, pushing the boulder toward its summit. For about the zillionth time.

  Tartarus might lie outside Hades proper, but it sure felt like Hell. Waves of heat hit him, unrelenting as his fate.

  Cursing the cackling demon who swooped past, Sisyphus halted to mop the sweat from his brow, balancing the weight of the boulder against his leg. Bad enough he was doomed for all time to repeat this process—hoist the rock to the top, only to have it tumble back to the bottom—but the intense heat of Tartarus worsened the task. As did the other inhabitants of the cursed place.

  The other doomed souls he didn’t mind so much. But the demons…a growl escaped just thinking of them. They delighted in torturing him, asking him, What’s new? in a casual tone, then pretending embarrassment as they slapped their foreheads. It always ended with the same inane laughter, self-serving shitheads that they were.

  When yet another materialized close by, Sisyphus braced himself for the usual mindless taunt. The fact that this one appeared different, almost sophisticated, if that were possible, threw him off at first. But of course, it was probably another ploy to do exactly that. Catch him off his guard so he’d lower his defenses and the tormentor would howl hysterically.

  “Piss off,” Sisyphus grumbled, repositioning his feet for better leverage.

  “Surely you can be more civilized.” The handsome fiend brushed a stray piece of ash from the fine fabric of his jacket. More upscale than the usual lot. But no less of an ass, Sisyphus would wager.

  His lip curled in disgust. “Run along, before you ruin your precious suit.” He heaved against the heavy rock, but it grew heavier somehow, resisting him.

  Probably a trick of this new evil one’s. Sisyphus could see him rallying his putrid friends around, retelling the tale.

  The demon sighed. “All right. If you’re not interested in what I have to say….”

  It took all the strength Sisyphus could muster to keep from losing ground. He’d made it halfway. Such small triumphs were hard won. He’d let the boulder crush him before he’d allow it to return to the bottom.

  The foolish creature clucked his tongue. “Really. I think you should listen. This endless task must be so wearisome.”

  Was the demon insane? Well yes, in general, it defined the entire species. But one so blatantly stupid had never approached Sisyphus before.

  “Wearisome?” Immediately, Sisyphus regretted the breath he blew out. In the second it took to glare at the idiot, Sisyphus lost his grip on the boulder. The impossibly large rock nudged backward. He ground his feet into the stony hillside but slipped against the unstable surface. Dredging up all he had within him, he gave one last shove to hold the boulder in place. It wobbled for an instant, then smashed into him as if it, too, sought revenge.

  With an anguished cry, he tumbled to the side, sharp stones piercing his skin. The boulder shook the ground as it retreated, and kept going as if it had a will to leave greater than Sisyphus’ own. Sisyphus’ cry turned into a whine as he watched it grow smaller and finally come to rest. Never had it traveled so far.

  As Sisyphus struggled to stand, he ground his teeth. Murderous anger sent him to the fiend’s side. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  The demon sucked air through his teeth. “Ooh. Nasty business, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you give anything to be free of this?”

  Rage thickened his tongue, and he sputtered, “You… I….”

  The creature’s smile exuded delight. “Exactly. You and I can work together to dispel this mess.”

  Surprise halted Sisyphus. What was he actually proposing? “It’s not possible.”

  “Anything’s possible,” the fool purred.

  Sisyphus wanted to knock the smug smile from the idiot’s face. “No, it is not. By decree, I must roll the boulder to the top of the hill, where it inevitably rolls to the bottom again. Much as I’d love for someone else to do it, no one else is allowed.”

  The demon shrugged. “Of course. And no one else should.”

  Oh, this fool must want to be strangled. “Stop speaking in circles.”

  “Nor should you have to do it.”

  Frustration clenched Sisyphus’ fists. “I just told you—”

  “Yes, but you escaped Tartarus before. Why not again?”

  True, he had managed to escape. Twice, in fact, he’d tricked his nemesis, Death, and even imprisoned her in his place once. But now he paid the eternal price. “As I said, it’s not possible.” Defeat weighed his tone.

  “Au contraire, my friend.”

  The hard gleam in the demon’s eye gave Sisyphus pause. No way could he trust this guy. “You’re out for revenge for yourself, not for me.” Sisyphus would be a pawn in this ghoul’s game. One that could spell salvation, or ruin.

  “Well,” he said on a breathy sigh, “if you’d rather spend the rest of your existence this way, fine.” He straightened to his full height, signifying his imminent departure.

  Madness gripped Sisyphus. “I wouldn’t wish such a fate on anyone.” Even this crazed creature. “But there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Ah, but there is.” The demon slunk closer. So near, the pinpoints of red in his eyes grew to an alarming depth.

  No harm in hearing out the babbling fool, was there? “Tell me, dammit.”

  Tapping his chin, he asked, “What’s the downfall of every creature?”

  Imagining his hands tightening around the creature’s neck, Sisyphus ground his teeth. He had no patience for riddles, and
choking this fool would provide only temporary relief. “Demon, I swear….” His bones ached, but nothing compared to the punishing pain of not complying with his sentence, a hard lesson learned early on. Another minute and he’d have to crawl to the boulder.

  “Actually, it’s Damien. Pleased to meet you.” His hand shot out.

  Confused, Sisyphus grasped it. “Likewise.” He yanked the creature to him. “Now tell me or I’ll slit your throat.”

  A smile curled the demon’s mouth. Of course, Sisyphus couldn’t destroy him. They both knew it.

  “The answer is: love.”

  “Love?” Sisyphus spat. As he’d suspected. This fool wanted only to torture him. Sisyphus had lost his only love to Death. He’d managed to coax her into releasing his wife, the only woman he’d ever loved, and then escaped this hell. Only to be captured once again.

  The demon grasped Sisyphus’ shoulders. “Death is in love with Azrael. Don’t you see? You can use her weakness against her.”

  He shouldn’t listen. He should simply trudge to the boulder like always, fit his shoulder against it, and heave, ignoring all else. Sisyphus stared in its direction. Despite the impending threat of torturous punishment, the mere thought of repeating the process one more time, let alone endlessly, made his stomach turn sour, and madness blacken his brain.

  Silencing the whisper of warning in his head, he turned back to the fiend. “How?”

  Damien’s slow smile was enough to curdle his blood, but Sisyphus allowed the creature to clasp his shoulder.

  The demon’s hot breath stunk of centuries of rotting flesh. “You won’t believe how easily we can trap her.”

  Sisyphus bet he couldn’t. Nothing worthwhile was easily won. But when the handsome creature murmured the plan into his ear, the tantalizing idea of freedom—so close he could taste its sweetness—crushed any cautionary thoughts as sure as the boulder itself had pulverized them.