Chapter 5 #3
“Hmm.” Thanatos raised a brow. Then, with the slightest motion, he stroked my index finger with his thumb. “Could it be that each time we meet, you ignite my curiosity anew? For instance…I had not known it possible for a mortal to sleep peacefully in the arms of her ruin.”
“It would be rather selfish of me to call you my ruin,” I said. “I know well enough I’ll be made to share your wings.” The words came to me so readily that I didn’t spare a thought before speaking them aloud. Flirting with Death was so dangerously easy.
Thanatos breathed deeply and moved closer, by the width of a hair.
“I have another curiosity, then.” He freed his hand from mine, only to bring it to my shoulder.
He traced the path of my collarbone with his thumb, lingering where the edge of my clothing gave way to bare skin.
Another measured breath, and he stroked lightly down my arm, from shoulder to elbow.
We both watched as goosebumps trailed his touch.
An unmistakable blush washed over my face.
“My curiosity concerns this…reaction,” he murmured intently. “It is not fear, is it?” His eyes snapped back to mine. He knew the answer.
“No,” I breathed. “It is not.”
Thanatos blinked slowly, his lips parted. He retraced his delicate caress from my elbow to my shoulder, then around to the nape of my neck. “You can always tell me to stop,” he whispered. “To leave.”
I drew a steadying breath and replied with the raw truth. “I am far more preoccupied with hoping you’ll come back.”
Thanatos massaged a circle into the soft skin of my neck.
He stared at my mouth, and then at my eyes, and my heart fluttered rapidly against my ribs.
But then his brow furrowed ever so slightly.
His lips pressed into a thin line, and he focused his gaze to something behind me.
I turned to see his scythe propped up against the wall.
Of course. I had almost forgotten. My shame and insecurity rushed back over me, and the tension between us snapped. I hung my head, shoulders sagging.
“Cyrie—”
“Can I see that?” I asked, motioning to the scythe. I begged him with my eyes to not put words to his thoughts. I didn’t want to talk about what he was planning to do with it.
Thanatos acquiesced with a dejected sigh and a nod. He shifted our empty plates onto the table, then paced around it to retrieve his scythe. His wings sprawled behind us when he sat beside me again, and he laid the weapon across our laps with the blade flat on his thigh.
I felt his eyes on me, and I readjusted myself to move slightly nearer, to open myself to his touch again. Despite my fraught emotions, I was certain I still wanted it. When I was rewarded with his hand pressed to the small of my back, I returned my attention to the scythe.
It was a weapon both elegant and menacing, adorned with swirling geometric patterns etched expertly into the lustrous metal.
Its sleek, gracefully curving haft joined seamlessly to an arcing crescent blade at the tip, the flow of its line unbroken by any designated grip.
Clean and polished though it was, an array of nicks and scratches along the blade betrayed its purpose as far from ornamental.
I ran my finger along the length of the haft, trying not to shiver.
A pit formed in my stomach as I grasped the enormity of being presented with something so haunting and sacred.
Looking upon it forced a confrontation with the terrible finality of Death—and yet, it was nothing more than an instrument of his purpose.
His handsome face and gentle touches were a distraction from the reality of his scythe and his wings.
His nature. A mote of fear sparked in my breast, and the warmth of his hand on my back became unbearably noticeable.
Then I looked back up at him, and my unease melted away. Thanatos was Thanatos. He awaited us all at our ends, save for me, the lucky oracle blessed to meet him in the middle. The pressure of his touch sent renewed arcs of pleasure across my skin.
“Your scythe is pretty,” I finally said.
“I am quite fond of it,” he replied. The softness in his eyes made me glad that he had not seen my fear.
“What’s its story?” I dared to ask.
“Hmm.” Thanatos tilted his head, contemplating, and a lock of his light hair slid over his shoulder.
“It is something that I chose as a companion a long time ago. Reaping mortals is but a game, you see. It is not as if I need anything like this to be myself. But among the instruments forged of the gods, I suppose I thought it to be elegant as well. Over the ages, it has become a statement: a symbol of my own, tied to me forever in the minds of gods and men.”
Studying his scythe, I savored his new gift of knowledge, trying my best to grasp the privilege he’d bequeathed unto me with his trust. I couldn’t help but smile as I ran my hand over the smooth metal once more. “It’s incredible.”
“Not frightening?”
“Oh, it’s definitely terrifying,” I replied in truth.
“But it’s yours, and I trust you, so I get to see the beauty of it as well.
” When I looked up again, I found him watching me intently, and for the briefest of moments I lost myself in his eyes.
How strange, for Death himself to be so inescapably beautiful.
Thanatos sighed. “It is good to see you smile again,” he said. “Still, I do not wish to leave you so despondent tonight.”
“Despondent?” I repeated, sardonic. “Please stop worrying about my face—I’m fine, and what’s done is done.
And you know, you’re not supposed to tell ladies they look sad, either.
” I scooted closer and laid my head on his shoulder.
He tightened his embrace in return, shifting his hand to my hip, and I relaxed against him. His comfort calmed my tempest.
“What am I allowed to tell you, then?” he murmured into my hair. The soft stroke of his fingers clashed with the glint of the scythe in our laps.
I let out a shaky breath. “Tell me you’ll come back.”
“I will always come back, so long as you ask.”