Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4) by Laura Thalassa

Author:Laura Thalassa [Thalassa, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lavabrook Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

We’re outside for a long time. I’ve taken to picking far more apples than I need, but there’s literally no one else around to enjoy them, so I try not to feel too guilty.

Death has dragged over a stone bench and butted the thing up against a nearby tree. He lounges on it, his back leaning against the tree trunk, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other one bent at the knee. This is the most comfortable I’ve ever seen him. It’s more than just his posture. The two of us have spent the morning chatting about things that don’t revolve around the fate of humanity or the sexual tension between us.

As I move around a second tree now, I begin humming—then singing—“Scarborough Fair,” the song stirring up old, achingly sweet memories. It was a song my mother would often sing while she did the dishes or hung clothes up to dry, one that some of my siblings and I would harmonize with.

I don’t know how long I’ve been singing when I hear the scuff of a boot.

I glance over my shoulder, staggering a little when I see the horseman standing in front of me, his gaze fixed to my mouth.

“So that’s music,” he says wondrously, as though he only just put a name to the sound.

I guess that’s the irony of Thanatos. He’s existed for forever, and he seems to be a well of wisdom when it comes to humans, but the horseman has only been a man for a short while.

Giving him a hesitant look, I nod.

His gaze scours my face. “Don’t stop,” he whispers.

Heat creeps up into my cheeks.

I don’t really want to sing now that I have an audience.

“Please,” Death adds. He’s still staring at my lips.

I want to tell him that people don’t ask these sorts of things, but he knows that. And he seems genuinely … moved by the music. So, I clear my throat, and after only wavering for another moment or two, I begin to sing again, turning back to the tree so that I can resume picking fruit and pretend I don’t have an avid audience.

Only, I’m not left alone for long.

Thanatos rounds the tree, his gaze moving over my eyes, my lips, my hair. He’s looking at me like I’m the Eighth Wonder of the World and I have no defense for the blatant longing on his face.

My song ends, and it’s silent for a long moment.

Death shakes his head, still looking possessed. “That was … opodanao.”

The foreign word draws out an instant reaction. I feel bathed in light, as though it were stroking my skin and running its fingers through my hair. I think I understand the word’s meaning, but the horseman translates for me anyway.

“Beautiful.”

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