Chapter 6 #3
“Get out of my house!” I demanded, feeling Cirrian behind me.
Unable to bear looking at him, I kept my back to him.
“What part of that request did you not understand?” I said, spinning toward him when his unnerving presence remained.
I probably looked feral, tapping into a part of me that needed to be cruel and heartless to kill the spellcaster.
It still lingered without a target. Now it had one: the infuriating, arrogant shadow god.
An easy, taunting smile flitted over his lips and reached his eyes. “As a ‘coerced guest,’ can that offer be rescinded? After all, my presence was demanded, not requested.”
“Fuck. You.”
He leaned down and licked his lips before placing them a breath from mine. “Oh, I’d love that. You’re so furious right now, our fucking would be wild and passionate. Imagining the scratching, biting, and unrestrained raw emotions is making me wild. I accept your invitation.”
“Go be a rabid dog somewhere else. You know what I meant!” I snapped.
“Do I?”
“Yes. What about this situation makes you believe I want to give you anything other than well-deserved pain?”
“Are you flirting with me? You know I have an uncanny appreciation for pain.”
If nothing else, I’m a good host. He liked pain? Who was I to deny him? Especially when I could serve it with a side of righteous anger. I swung and connected with his side. It was like punching granite. No wonder they were so damn hard to kill.
Worth it, I convinced myself as I recoiled, cradling my hand and thinking of all the small bones in it. Some that were possibly now broken.
I glared at him stepping closer to me. Cirrian drew in a ragged breath and gently took my hand into his. He frowned at the swelling. When I tried to pull away, his grip tightened.
“Stop fighting me, darling,” he murmured, his soft voice only stoking the flames of my fury. I was not a fan of darling and wasn’t going to accept that as his name for me.
“Kara,” I pressed.
“Stop fighting me, Kara darling.”
My hand hurt too bad to engage in a battle of semantics.
He bent down and exhaled a breath of icy air over my hand, chasing away the pain. I eyed the visible decrease in the swelling once he whispered an invocation over it.
Cirrian stepped back as if he thought his nearness would incite more violence. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The dwindling time I had before Amelia would be lost to me forever created a whirl of helplessness. And Cirrian was a constant reminder of it.
“Stick to using weapons,” he suggested. “They suit you well.”
“I know how to punch. Your body is as hard as your heart,” I snapped.
His jaw clenched.
“They could have died, and you just stood there!” I disliked the reedy sound of my voice. Anger, frustration, and despair were in the driver’s seat.
“I can’t intervene with death,” he said. He couldn’t kill, and an inability to intervene in death was another addition to his list of restrictions. I’d have found more solace in the restriction if he hadn’t proven adept at sidestepping them for his benefit.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
I was so tired of his double speak and dubious responses.
“Are you capable of giving a straight answer?”
“I won’t intervene in death because it’s against our rules to do so,” he said. His voice was devoid of emotion. And his face didn’t offer me any more insight.
“You would have if you could?”
I appreciated the careful consideration he appeared to be giving my question.
“Kara, I’m death. Once you fully grasp that, our time together will be easier for you.
I won’t save people from their fate of death.
I will collect their magic and soul and go on with my day.
I won’t protect them from their foolishness, their failed spells, or curses that can’t be undone.
” He inched closer, his expression speculative.
It was a few moments before he continued.
“What I did for Amelia was not help. After further consideration, I believe it was cruelty because I’ve done nothing more than prolong your suffering.
When you inevitably fail, creating more casualties of the situation than otherwise would have been, you’ll have to live with the weight of the failure and knowledge that you risked the lives of others.
I will have more collections, and you’ll have more pain and guilt.
Perhaps you are right. I’m an asshole.” He offered a faint smile.
“And cruel. But I’ve been accused of far worse. ”
He waved off the self-deprecating assessment as he leveled his cold, calculating eyes on me.
“Rather than clinging to the misguided belief that I’ll somehow be your salvation, focus on breaking the curse.
Prove me wrong or at the very least do enough that it will diminish your regret when you ultimately fail.
Tick, tick,” he added, tapping at his watchless wrist.
“Get out of my house. Now.”
Grinning, he moved to the section of the living room that would have been his prison. He grabbed an apple from the bowl and plopped down on the sofa. “Coerced guest, remember?”
My time was too limited to deal with a man whose superpower was being a pompous, heartless jackass.
Rushing upstairs, I went to my third bedroom, which I’d converted to a multifunction room serving as a den and office. Once there, I opened the door to the walk-in closet I’d made my library.
I won’t fail.
I was going to make sure Cirrian did. Then I’d play his own game and find a way to evade his oath.