by T. L Smith
“They’re here already?” I’m confused for a second. “Who else?” I ask.
She leans in close when she speaks. “Some friends of hers. She didn’t want to come by herself, I guess.” I feel the tension as soon as we reach the table. It’s like a cloud of smoke building up around us.
“Freya, thanks for coming. This is Pollie,” Elina says, grabbing my arm and pulling me down to sit. Freya says hello and introduces her friend as Angelina.
A waiter walks up and Elina places an order. No one is speaking to anyone, it’s all extremely awkward.
“Aren’t you the girl that was with Death that night at the club? He took you out over his shoulder, right?”
I can feel all eyes are on me, I know they’re waiting for my answer.
“Is he the one with the dark hair and deadly face?” That must be Angelina.
I hear Freya answer, “Yes.”
“Shit, that man is mighty fine… and scary. Imagine him in the bedroom.”
Everyone laughs. I don’t. I know what he’s like in the bedroom, and I hope they never find out. He is mine.
“Pollie, what’s going on with you and Death?” I just hear Elina’s voice, she’s whispering so no one but me can hear her. I shake my head, virtually telling her I will talk to her later. I don’t want her to tell her here.
Elina changes the subject. I silently thank her, and soon everyone is chatting, and actually behaving. I don’t know much of the story between Freya and Elina, all I do know is that Freya was arranged to marry to Kazier, which never happened.
“I miss him. Want to come back to mine?” Elina asks with enthusiasm in her voice.
“You just want sex. We don’t need to see that or be around for that,” Freya speaks.
“No. Come on… I have champagne. Plus, I know there’s always vodka stashed around the house.”
The word ‘vodka’ seems to do the trick with everyone agreeing.
****
Climbing up the stairs we hear voices, I pause, and Elina tugs me up.
“You didn’t say anyone else would be here,” I murmur as she continues to step up.
“Of course, the boys stayed here for their night.”
“Figures…” I hear Freya mutter from behind me.
I finish stepping up and then walk through the door. Loud male laughter fills the room. Then it goes silent as we wander in, and I realize they know we’re here. I hear kissing, and I know straight away it’s Elina and Kazier.
Then I hear Freya’s friend whisper to Freya. “He’s here. Do you think he’s single?”
And my body tenses at her words. I don’t wait to hear her response as I walk out to where the boys are quietly talking. I try to not think about that night and this place when I step outside, and the cold air hits my skin—my very bare skin. I reach for a chair and feel someone push one behind my knees. I smile and sit down, hearing Freya and Angelina wandering out as well. I don’t know exactly who’s here, but they’re friends of Kazier’s and Elina’s, so I feel somewhat more comfortable sitting out here.
“Freya…” Anton addresses her.
“What.”
“Don’t steal my vodka, bitch.”
She goes to say something but then all of a sudden she’s laughing. Hysterically.
“What the fuck have you two done to your nipples?” she manages to push out in-between her now hysterical laughter.
“We pierced them, right Death?”
My body goes rigid, those words are directed right near me. I should have felt him, but I didn’t.
“Are either of you planning to remove the needle? Or just keep it stuck in there like that?”
“We didn’t think that far ahead,” Anton says confused.
I hear Angelina speak when she says, “Hi,” to someone, and I guess that someone is Death. He doesn’t respond to her, at least I don’t hear his response. Then she pushes it further. “Want to come and grab a drink with me?”
I stand then and turn back toward the door. Not wanting to hear anymore, I walk to the bench, my hands come into contact with its cool top.
“Why are you wearing that?”
My spine straightens up, I turn to his voice from behind me. He steps closer, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He reeks of it. I don’t answer, and he reaches out and runs a finger over the top of my bare thigh. “Why. Are. You. Wearing. This?” he asks again, pausing at every word. My hand comes up and I touch his chest. I feel something cold and sharp and pull my fingers away remembering he’s pierced his nipples. That means he’s sitting out there shirtless, and Angelina is probably ogling him. I feel jealousy course through me.
“Why are you shirtless? Shouldn’t you at least have a shirt on in front of other people?” I snap too harshly, and my hand flies up to cover my mouth, not understanding where that venom came from.
He presses himself to me, I feel the edges of his stomach, his muscles touching me. He keeps one hand on my bare thigh.
“What was that for? It couldn’t have possibly been from jealousy, right? Not sweet little Pollie…”
I hide my smirk in his chest. He knows. And he’s toying with me. Playful? Dare I call it that? How much has he had to drink?
“Death, we haven’t finished you bastard. Hurry the fuck up.”
He grabs hold of my hand and pulls me as we walk out the back. I feel for a seat, when he grabs my hips and pulls me onto his lap. His hand comes back to my thigh, then it creeps into the middle, blocking any view anyone would have. His mouth comes down on my shoulder, he bites it softly and I moan ever so slightly. Thinking everything is right, just for now.
Chapter 13
Death
I can actually stand to be around him, and I actually find him funny. Maybe it’s the alcohol because I feel the need to kill him subside and wash away. Watching Pollie walk in, and sit right near me, almost made me lose my cool. Her skirt is too short, her breasts are too exposed. I feel the need to cover her up and touch her.
She got jealous. I didn’t think she had a jealous bone in her body, but I was proved wrong. Freya’s friend makes her jealous. I like it. No, I like it a lot.
My hand creeps in between her legs, she sighs into me, leaning back with all her weight. I take it, not caring if she moves the needles still sticking through my nipples. I turn to the side, Freya’s friend is watching me with beady eyes. Her eyes are on my hand that’s between Pollie’s legs. She catches me looking and smirks, but I turn away. Not wanting a thing to do with her. If she was a hooker, maybe. If she was Pollie, definitely.
Kazier sits across from us, his hand wrapped around Elina’s chair, touching her back. She smiles up at him every time she speaks, then gives her attention back to whoever is talking. They plan to marry in secret, everyone knows they will marry, but they don’t want anyone to know apart from us. Too many enemies. Anything to bring him down a notch and kill those he loves. His main weakness is her, and she’s a prime target for our enemies. No matter how skilled she is, she can’t out-power twenty men. Her eyes look over at me, she looks to Pollie who’s sitting on my lap, she then looks back at me. Her lips form a thin line, and she stands moving over and touching Pollie’s arm. She leans down, whispers something and Pollie shakes her head. Then she steps back to where she was, picks up her drink takes a sip then starts staring at us again.
“What was that?” I ask into her neck.
Her shoulder curls up from my breath on her neck, and she whispers, “She wants to know what we are.”
“And what are we?” I ask because I don’t even know.
“I don’t know, I still have to work that out.”
That answer disturbs me, I don’t know why. Is it because I want her to tell everyone she’s mine? Or because I don’t even understand what it is I want?
“I have to go home,” she says while standing. Her ass comes into full view of my face, she leans over just a tad to grab her cane and my cock stands tall. When I stand, I almost knock her forward. My cock pushing
into her, I manage to catch her before she falls and bring her back to me.
“We’re out,” I say holding onto her hips.
“Fuck off, soft cock, you can’t go yet. We need to do something about those tits of yours,” Anton says pointing to my pierced nipples with a bottle of vodka in his hand. He can drink, I think he’s drunk more than all of us here combined, and he still seems soberish. How that is possible, I don’t know.
“Tomorrow,” I say pushing Pollie to walk. She doesn’t disobey and says goodbye to everyone but doesn’t stop as we walk from the house. “You’re coming to mine,” I tell her while calling a Uber. She looks down, her hands wrapped around her waist and nods her head. I don’t touch her, just watch. Her blonde hair is up, showcasing her face, her legs are sexy as fuck and begged to be cut, just to have some sort of imperfection. Her breasts, well, I can almost see all of them. Her creamy skin look delicious, and I want to do bad things to it.
Together, we don’t match. Me with tats covering my face and body—rough, scary, are a few of the words used to describe me—her, well, it’s absolute beauty. And it scares the shit out of me that I’ll change it, change her, when that’s the last thing I want to do. Not one thing is wrong with her. Not her caring nature, not her sweet voice, not her hands that play her instrument like it’s her life source.
Not one single thing.
The car shows up and I don’t touch her. My head is slightly clearing now, the alcohol wearing off. She sits with her legs crossed and doesn’t speak on the drive. I don’t speak either. The car comes to a stop, and she pulls the handle climbing out and stays standing on the side of the road as she waits for me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks once the driver leaves, and I stand where I am staring at her. I know she can feel it because she fidgets with her skirt. “If you don’t want to talk, I can leave.”
My heart hammers one large beat, and I step up and take her face, bringing her in hard so my lips smash to hers. She immediately opens her mouth and kisses me back. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her up the stairs all the while kissing her and never removing my mouth from hers.
I slam her back into the door, wondering if she’ll bruise. She pushes her chest into mine and digs her nails into my back.
“Inside,” she says just as my hand snakes in-between her legs. She pulls her mouth away and lays her forehead on mine. “Why do you want me? Is it just for sex?”
I unlock the door and carry her inside, she doesn’t speak waiting patiently for my answer as I walk her up the stairs.
“Don’t ask me questions I don’t know the answers to.”
She drops her legs from clinging around my waist. “I don’t know you. How am I meant to get to know you?”
I pull away from her and remove all my clothing. “Get naked!”
She drops her head.
“I’ll answer one question for every item of clothing you remove,” I tell her knowing she doesn’t have much on. She stands and places her hands on her hips and pauses for a moment, her face a mask of disbelief, then proceeds to pull her skirt down and lets it drop to the floor. Underneath is only a thin piece of fabric, and I know if she turned around all I would see is her ass.
“Love, I want your thoughts on it.”
“It’s not real. It’s what people tell one another to make them feel better. It’s all in the brain, some sort of chemical reaction. It’s not in the soul.”
Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Really, you don’t believe in it at all?”
“That was two questions. You only removed one piece of clothing. You want the answer… lose the top.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“So you don’t want the answer?”
She waits a moment then pulls her top over her head. Breasts spring free, no bra.
“No, I don’t believe in it. It’s fake. The word is overused. It’s not real.”
She goes to speak then shuts her mouth very quickly. She only has one piece of clothing left, if you could call it that.
“Last question… make it count because I will.”
She takes a deep breath as I wait for her next question. “What do you do exactly for work?”
I knew she’d want to know sooner rather than later. Now I have to decide if I water down the version of what I do, or if I tell her straight. I have a feeling she couldn’t handle the full extent of what I do. She pulls the final piece of clothing off, standing there like a goddess who’s about to be eaten by the devil. Pity she doesn’t know it yet.
“I work on the dead.” She pales, her mouth forms a thin line. “Now that your question is answered…” I say stepping toward her. Her hand reaches up, and she touches one of the needles then she pulls away.
“You like pain?” she asks, but I think more to herself than to me.
“Yes,” I reply, not even knowing if she expected an actual answer in return.
She reaches up and starts undoing her earrings, then holds them out to me. “Put these in. I don’t want to touch them.”
I take them from her hand, and she stands there waiting for me to do as she wants. Pulling the first needle free, I replace it with her earring. It slides in easily, then I do the same with the second, placing the needles on the bedside table.
A knock comes hard on the door, just as I place my hand to her hip. I want to ignore it when it comes again even louder than the last time. She turns her head toward the sound and then my name is called. Not my name now, my birth name. And I know exactly who it is.
“What’s your name?” she asks shocked. She can feel me tightening up each time that name is called. “Tell me, tell me your name … not Death. I want to know. I think I should know this!”
“Dmitry.”
“Who downstairs knows that name?”
“My brother,” I tell her through clenched teeth.
Pulling away from her, I start stepping down the stairs.
Chapter 14
Death
His hand is paused ready to assault my door again when I pull it open. He’s dressed in all black and stands at the same height as I do. It’s been months since I’ve spoken to him, years since I have seen him. He looks me up and down and pushes past me to enter my house. He takes a long look around then comes back to stand in front of me.
“Clothes?” he asks, his eyes full.
I shrug my shoulders. I didn’t intrude into his house late at night that was his doing.
“You’ve been ignoring me, Dmitry.” He hears soft footsteps upstairs, and he looks to the staircase. “Do you have a hooker up there?” he asks pointing in the direction where the sound just came from.
“No.”
He shakes his head and takes the steps two at a time as runs up them. I'm inching behind him and manage to grab his shirt, pulling him back and slamming him into the wall just before he opens it. He gasps loudly.
“What are you doing?”
I hang my head, then look at him with confliction.
He can’t go in there.
He can’t see her.
I don’t want him near her.
The door opens, and Pollie’s head becomes visible. She stands there dressed.
“You do have a hooker…”
My palm digs into his throat, cutting his air off. That’s the last thing she is. To say that makes my blood boil. Pollie’s hand touches my shoulder, and I loosen my grip on his neck but keep it locked just in case.
“I’m going to go,” her small voice speaks.
My body falls just slightly in disappointment. Sebastian turns his head to look at her, properly look at her, then his eyes swing back to mine.
“You like her?” he teases. He can see the reaction I have for her. Pollie’s head swings to his voice then she grabs her bag from the floor and touches the walls as she walks closer to me. I watch her hand and demand it doesn’t touch him, she lifts it when it comes closer and touches my waist giving me a gentle squeeze as she continues to walk out.
I stay where I am, Sebastian glued to the wall and now watching the empty stairwell.
“Never thought I would see the day…” he says as soon as the door closes.
I push free of him and walk straight into my room, slamming the door and pulling on my pants. This wasn’t the plan I had for the evening. The plans didn’t involve him at all—they involve Pollie and only Pollie, marking me, and me fucking her until I passed out. Which has now gone to shit.
When I pull the door open, Sebastian is standing there with his hand rubbing his neck. He drops it and stands in front of me.
“We need to talk, and you will talk since you made me come in fucking person,” he says as he turns and steps down the stairs. I stand there watching his retreating form. He has on black slacks, a black button down shirt—our dress styles don’t match. He is class, I am not.
“Why are you here, Sebastian?”
I take the seat opposite him. He gazes around my empty apartment. Nothing personal is in this space, just a couch and television.
“You left the house?” he asks surprised.
I never told him I moved. That house has been sitting there for years with no one going into it.
That house—it’s the root of all evil.
“You grow some brains while you were gone? Obviously, you can see that…” I roll my eyes at him. “How did you find me?” I ask since I never told him where I live.
“Kazier’s father.”
I nod my head. He would tell, Kazier wouldn’t.
“You’re working closely with Kazier now? One of his three, I heard?”
He left solely based on that. Not wanting to be that close to everything, he hated the killing, but he liked the after part. Something we have in common, though the killings don’t bother me as much as they bothered him. I nod my head.
“He didn’t marry the daughter?” he asks sitting back.
That could be why he’s here. He works directly for Freya’s father, and Kazier’s father promised him that Freya would be married to Kazier. That didn’t happen.
