Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When death came for me, he was wearing a white cape and the cocky attitude of an immortal sure of his success.
Ifelt like a teenager sneaking out at midnight to see her boyfriend, except I was a powerful half-angel in my twenties trying to get past my mate for a coerced date with an ancient god.
Harry shook his head. That, combined with his disapproving stare, left me stripped to the bone. “Don’t give me that look. Sometimes we have to sacrifice something small to get what we need.”
“Your heart is not small.”
I snorted as I slipped on my heels. They were tall enough to look like I was making an effort, but not enough to make me look ridiculous. That said, I was willing to suffer pain for beauty. “My heart is not what I’m sacrificing. I can’t, since it’s been stolen by a growly guy with boundary issues.”
“Not the point. Mr. Abbot will not appreciate the competition.”
I grabbed my matching purple satin purse from the bed and smoothed down the sheath dress that declared I cared, but wasn’t interested.
At least, I hoped that was what it said.
I hadn’t been able to involve my normal go-tos.
Dayna would spill the beans to Hudson before the first sweep of mascara, and then my mate would sequester me away for the foreseeable future, armageddon be damned. “There is no competition.”
“That won’t be his take, and you know that fine well, or you wouldn’t be sneaking around.”
How did my resident ghost know me so well? I opened the door and started down the stairs. Harry floated behind me, and the spirits nodded their heads at us both as we passed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Really? Then why is Miss Lexington currently running interference by creating a distraction so that he is not even on the property?”
I glanced at the clock. Two minutes to go. Would a god be punctual or make me wait?
“Again, I have no idea what you mean. If Rebecca needs my mate’s help, then she needs help.”
“Then you won’t mind me informing him right here, right now that you are leaving the house in a dress on the arm of a god.”
I spun on my heel to glare at Harry. He floated back and held his hands up. “Tell me how to do this. How do I beat my grandmother, who holds the power of a god?”
He blinked and looked at the floor. “He will find out.”
“I know. I won’t lie to him. But the path of least resistance is how we do this. At least on the first date.”
His head jerked up, and his eyes went wide. “There’s more than one?”
I groaned just as power rolled across my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt down my arms. A heavy knock echoed through the house. Punctual. I liked that. “Not one word,” I muttered as I plastered a smile on my face and swung open the door revealing...
What the hell was he wearing? I blinked. Nope, it wasn’t a mirage. Donn, the god of death, was standing at my door in a white tux and a matching floor-length cape.
“Superheroes don’t wear capes,” I blurted. “Or white.”
Donn tilted his head, and the inky tendrils that were his constant companion kissed the air. “Why not?”
“Capes get caught in everything from plane engines to fists when fighting, and the white is an issue for blood spatter.”
“I have neither aviation nor violence planned for this evening, Cora. I believe I am safe.”
“Not when Hudson finds out,” Harry mumbled from behind me.
Donn raised a dark brow. “Your mate is unaware?”
“Not for long, I’m sure.”
Donn grinned. “You look radiant, Cora.” He swept his hand in a grand gesture.
“Your chariot awaits.” He stepped to the side, and I froze.
Said chariot was actually... well... a chariot.
Complete with a gleaming carriage, two dark stallions, and a spooky coachman.
I accepted Donn’s outstretched hand and moved down the steps of Summer Grove House.
“Be back before midnight,” Harry called before the door slammed in his face.
I was no Cinderella. Hudson knew that, but Donn apparently didn’t. Also, I planned on being home well before the witching hour.
I climbed inside, taking a seat on the dark velvet bench. Donn slid in next to me before the carriage jerked and we were on our way.
Fun fact: carriages looked spectacular but were the worst transportation for butts.
“Where are we going?”
“That would be telling,” Donn said as his leg slid against mine.
I glared at his thigh and raised a brow. “That is inappropriate.”
“Then appropriateness has shifted in the years I’ve been absent.”
“Not even a god can halt time, so you need to catch up.”
He sighed and inched back a little, giving me the space I needed to breathe.
“You could have just,” I snapped my fingers, “transported us wherever we’re going.”
“You learn to savor that which amuses and fascinates when the stretch of time before and in front of you is endless.”
He was bored? And apparently, I was an amusing plaything.
I decided against idle chitchat. I didn’t want to bond or share secrets. I needed him for one thing, and one thing alone.
“You are quiet,” Donn said.
“I have nothing to say.”
“You are so unlike the majority of your generation.”
“How so?”
“They feel the need to fill every moment with their lives and experiences, and during the quiet, they switch to technology to null the void in their souls.”
Complex way of saying most of us had a social media addiction.
“It is humanity’s way of connecting, to share in their troubles and celebrate their wins. Not all of it is bad.”
Donn huffed. “If I were to reshape this world, I would remove it.”
“You said you have no interest in this world.”
“I don’t. But you do, and I am interested in you.”
Save me the dramatic declarations.
“Well, this is the first of three dates. I suggest you use them more wisely than disparaging everything my species has accomplished in the last few centuries.”
“You don’t have a species. You are utterly unique in that you have your foot in many worlds but belong in none.”
“I’m a special snowflake.”
“Indeed.”
His sincerity caused my head to snap up to face him. The shadows played across his sharp features, illuminated only by the moon kissing his skin. His lips curled as the carriage slowed and the bumpy ride finally quit, giving me hope feeling would return to my ass soon.
Donn opened the door and again, much like a gentleman of old, offered me his hand.
I accepted and stepped out of the carriage straight into White Castle’s cemetery.
Okay. Not the fancy restaurant I was expecting, but also not nearly far enough away from my mate to be comfortable.
My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I was in fact hungry.
Donn led the way down a well cared for path lit by candles in hurricane jars. We wove between the tombs and stone statues stretching toward the sky like they were offering the souls who resided beneath them a helping hand toward Heaven.
“This is unusual,” I muttered.
“A striking woman deserves a striking date. Plus, it is my belief you need to be reminded of your roots. Before all this business with your grandmother and war, what made you, you?”
“Money worries and a chaotic life with supernatural squabbles.”
He chuckled. “No, Cora. Death made you, you. And it still does.”
“In name, not in nature.”
He paused beside a tree swaying gently in a breeze.
Under it sprawled a set of fur blankets and an array of picnic foods.
I was on a date with the god of death, and he’d brought me to a cemetery picnic in the middle of the night.
He thought he was being so smart, yet everything about this scene was a cliché.
I glanced around. This scene was missing one ingredient. “Where are all the ghosts?”
“I sent them away. I thought you’d appreciate the quiet.”
More than he knew. Everyone wanted something from me. Every time I stepped out of my apartment, there was a laundry list of jobs and requests. I hadn’t realized the toll that was taking until this very moment.
I lowered myself onto the blanket and selected a sandwich. Damn, the god of death had a good caterer. Did they do weddings? The sandwich was halfway to my mouth when Donn reached into the basket with far too much ceremony, withdrawing a glowing blue bottle. He quirked a brow.
“What—” I began.
“The essence of a particularly chatty ghost I bottled earlier. He told long-winded stories about fly-fishing. I assumed you’d appreciate the peace.”
I stared at the glowing bottle, then at him. He thought ridding me of a problematic ghost was the equivalent of a bunch of roses. He and my father would make good friends with their ridiculous ideas of what constituted a good present.
“You extracted a ghost’s essence and turned it into a beverage?”
“Only the boring parts.” He popped the cork, and a whine drifted out, like a man complaining about bait quality.
My stomach twisted, and I dropped my sandwich onto a plate. “That’s not romantic. That’s a war crime.”
He frowned, genuinely confused. “I am removing obstacles before a courtship. I was being considerate.”
“That is not modern courtship.”
“I researched mortal mating customs. Step one: bring offerings.” He raised the glass of blue soul-infused liquid. “Step two: impress with displays of dominance.” He shrugged. “That’s to come.”
I folded my arms and glared. “I’m ecstatic to witness it.”
“Step three: invite her to witness your power over the dead.”
“Those are not steps. That’s true crime documentary fodder,” I snapped.
Indigo stirred with interest. “Does he serve souls for dessert?”
I ignored her, watching Donn pour the shimmering soul-wine into two delicate glasses that absolutely did not belong on a blanket in a cemetery. They looked like the sort of crystal you only used for summoning elder gods—or impressing your date with your ability to commit coded atrocities.
I cleared my throat. “Normal wine is fine. Or water.”
He shrugged, unbothered. “Normal wine does not sing when poured.” A faint hum drifted out of the glass, sounding like a dying barbershop quartet.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Donn.”
“Yes, Cora?” he drawled, faux innocence dripping from every syllable.
“This.” I gestured at the glowing bottle, the graveyard, the fur blankets, the Coachman of Doom. “Is dramatic.”
“I am dramatic,” he said without shame.
“Normal dates involve movies and popcorn or a restaurant without soul sacrifices. Crazy golf is also an option.”
His grin spread. “You aren’t normal, and neither am I.”
Before I could argue, his expression shifted.
Sharpened. Deepened. His focus slid to me like a velvet blade.
“You know, it has been many ages since I courted anyone. I worried the rituals would not translate.” He leaned in, shadows curling around us like curious eels.
“But I realize now I need not fear. You are already drawn to me.”
I blinked, then snorted. “I’m drawn to the sandwiches. They’re divine.” But they were no blueberry pancakes.
“So am I.” His breath whispered across my ear and skimmed my throat, but he was still on the other side of the blanket. My pulse jumped, and a wicked, knowing grin curled his lips. “Your soul stirs with an ancient pull. Death calls to death.”
“It does not stir,” I hissed. “I’m hungry and a little stiff from the ride.”
He chuckled. “You may tell yourself such things, but I assure you, I can seduce any mortal—or immortal—I desire.” His shadows pulsed outward like a heartbeat. “Even one with a mate.”
And there it was. The test. The godly gauntlet.
I wiped my fingers with the cloth napkin embroidered with delicate silver skulls. “Donn, you’re ancient, handsome, powerful, and utterly confusing. You probably could seduce anyone you set your mind to.” He brightened. “But you can’t break the bond between me and Hudson.”
His smile flickered, just for a heartbeat. He tilted his head. “You are certain.”
“Absolutely. The only thing that can break it is if one of us chooses to, and neither of us will.”
The air tightened, not with threat, but with consideration. A god measuring truth.
Donn leaned back on one hand, shadows curling lazily behind him. “Good.”
I blinked. “Good?”
“Yes,” he said, amused. “A challenge is far more interesting than an inevitability.”
I groaned. “That is not the take away.”
“It is mine.”
A boom echoed through the cemetery. Thunder? A ward snapping? A distant roar of fury surrounded us.
Donn smiled wickedly. “Ah. The mate has noticed.”
“Oh, holy hell,” I breathed.
Indigo purred. “This is going to be delicious.”
Donn smiled like Christmas had arrived early. “He is spirited.”
“He is livid and lethal,” I countered, sensing the nightlife already hunkering down in preparation of violence.
“And I’m hungry,” Indigo whined.
“Get in line,” I muttered, as Hudson’s fury rolled closer like a gathering storm. Donn’s shadows shivered in anticipation.
Fantastic. Dinner and a show.
I had a horrible suspicion I was the snack.