William steps out of the circle as Death enters. His hands grip mine and place them on his shoulders. He pushes his right hand beneath my robe and places it over my heart. I swallow the fear and remind myself this is how I survive.
“This might hurt a little,” William says with glee.
Death’s voice fills the room, the cadence both terrifying and comforting—everything that Death is. His lips don’t move, but the strength of his words nearly knocks me off my feet. I don’t understand the language, but it tugs on my soul, drawing it to the surface. My body shakes as it seeks to grab onto it.
“Let him have your soul, Duncan. He will return it once it’s altered,” William states.
I grit my teeth and force my body to release it. The second it leaves my body, I feel empty. All feelings, including fear, disappear and I revel in the depths of nothingness. My eyes fall closed as my mind screams at me to recognize the danger, the loss, the grief, the heartbreak of what I have done to Natia; but I can’t bring myself to care. I’m numb to it all—and that is pure bliss. I could reap a million souls and not care; they could be damned or blessed.
The air whooshes out of my mouth as emotion dumps into my system. My eyes fling open to stare at Death. He watches me from sunken sockets of despair, a knowing glint from his eyes has me nodding in understanding. Being without a soul is a dangerous thing, and this being has a soul. But he’s infected. He was once in my position. Soul eaters may start as mortals having wandered into Hell, but they stay and become what we fear—Death.
25
Chapter Twenty Five
Natia
A Taurus woman is a sensual creature who is proactive in the bedroom, but expects equality. Piss her off at your peril.
We escape Atlantis with one god relic and our wedding plans in the hands of the God of the Sea. I’ve not said yes, yet both Archan and Poseidon believe it’s a done deal. Marching up the steps to the familiar mansion beside Archan, I shoot him a look.
“Why are we at your house and not the club, or Reinheart and Hunter?”
He arches a brow as he pushes the front door open. I leave a trail of damp footsteps behind me. “Hell’s Hole was compromised by Mene, and Reinheart and Hunter can’t accommodate everyone in our team. My home can. We need rest as well as somewhere to base our operations.”
I roll my eyes. He wants us on his turf so he can control the environment. I’m in love with the original control freak. He pushes the door closed behind us and drops his lips to my ear. “I am also eager to have you in my bed. To have your scent mixing with mine in our home.”
I snap my head to face him. “Our home?”
His lips tilt up. “When we aren’t visiting the flying pigs, I assume you wanted to keep roots in Seattle.”
“My cottage is perfectly serviceable.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Come on, my serviceable room still has clothes for you.”
I scan the room. The fire roars in the hearth, and faint voices float down the hallway from my right. “Is everyone here?” I check as he ushers me towards the stairs.
His eyes tighten as he nods. “The entire gang.”
I cast my gaze on the trident in my hand, glowing like the sun set fire to the metal. The only thing that matches the gold is Archan’s eyes. I detour down the hallway and follow the muffled voices with Archan hot on my heels. I swing a left through an archway and enter an impressive kitchen, gadgets galore gleaming on every surface. A fleeting memory of Archan cooking me breakfast flitters through my mind. Every head turns our way from their positions around the giant oak rectangular dining table. Jed pauses in his sandwich making from the counter separating the two areas.
“That better be for me, Smoothie,” I state as I stride across the smooth wooden floor. He winks at me and adds a slice of bread on top of the sandwich, then starts with more layers. “Be still my beating heart, if I wasn’t already taken I would marry you.”
Jed chuckles. “I can be your backup plan.”
I roll my eyes. “Not you, the sandwich.”
He adds a layer of crunchy nachos. “Ah, but without me there is no sandwich.”
“Fine, but I want sandwiches every day.”
“Deal,” he says before placing the last piece of bread on the top. It’s a foot tall and wobbles as he pushes it towards me.
“Did I just lose to a sandwich?” Archan grumbles as he takes a seat at the head of the table. I grab the plate with one hand and lay the trident down on the table.
“Rule number one. Don’t come between me and my food. The food will always win.”
“Is that?” Aaden whispers, pushing his chair backwards and reaching towards the trident.
