Death Lord

10

“Horseman of the Apocalypse, remember?” Belial asked. “It comes with the job.”

So maybe he really was Death after all. s**t. No wonder I couldn’t kill him. I swallowed hard, as the horse tossed its head in a very haughty manner, and then disappeared again.

“Where did it go?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Belial said, shrugging.

“You don’t know where your horse goes?” I asked, incredulous.

“Ghost and I respect each other’s’ privacy,” Belial said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Okay then. Maybe Belial was just plain off his rocker. And here I was, stuck with him all night. That did not bode well for me, but at least I’d accepted he wasn’t going to kill me just yet. He wouldn’t have brought me a pillow and blanket otherwise. I’d much rather be back in my hotel room, but at least I wasn’t chained up to a wall in a basement either. At least here I might be able to snoop around and find out more about Belial, including how to defeat him.

“There’s not much in the kitchen, but feel free to eat or drink anything you find.”

“Let me guess, you’re one of those guys who can’t cook and orders in every night.”

He shot me a hard look. “I’m an excellent cook. But now that I’m an Elder God, I don’t need to eat anymore.”

My mouth dropped open at that and I fumbled for a good response. “How does someone become an Elder God?”

“It’s a long story,” he muttered. “Get some rest.”

I glanced down at my leather combat gear. “Could I at least go back to my hotel room to grab some clothes?”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll just have to sleep in my underwear,” I muttered, and started fluffing up the pillow.

“Hang on,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He spun on his heel and disappeared down the hallway, then returned a minute later and tossed something at me. “Wear this.”

I caught it on reflex, snatching the bundle of fabric out of the air. A black t-shirt, like the one Belial wore.

“Thanks?” I said, making it more of a question than anything else. Belial’s eyes flashed again, and he sauntered closer. I held my ground, tilting my chin up. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me, no matter how much taller and stronger he was than me. He didn’t stop, getting close enough that if either of us leaned forward just a bit, our chests would brush. He was close enough to kiss.

His mouth opened and closed like he was about to say something, his eyes flashing with annoyance, but then he reached up, touching my hair. He threaded the white strands through his fingers and I sucked in a breath, trying to figure out what he was doing. The action seemed almost involuntary, like he couldn’t help himself. For a moment, I was so caught up in it that I couldn’t do anything other than sway in and wonder where the hell my night had taken such a weird turn. Then I blinked. The enemy, I reminded myself for what seemed like the thousandth time.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, and then shoved him back as hard as I could.

He was so solid and ridiculously overpowered that even with all of my strength, he hardly swayed. But he stepped back all the same. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Get some rest.”

What an asshole, I thought, glaring at his retreating form. Once he was gone, I looked around the living room once again. Really, what was I doing? I was staying in this murderer’s house like it was no big deal. Unfortunately, he might be my only viable lead, and he might give me clues that could lead me to my brothers. Hopefully I could uncover a way to kill him while I was at it, and finally avenge my father.

Besides, I was trapped here, between the silver cuffs on my wrists and that freaky horse that could show up at any moment out of nowhere to chase me down. Was Belial really Death? That would have been good to know before I’d tried to kill him, but my brothers hadn’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t heard it from anyone else either. Maybe Lucifer and his people were keeping it on the down low. Not that many people talked about Belial much in the demon world anyway. He’d been an outcast ever since he’d been exiled from Hell hundreds—thousands?—of years ago. All I knew was that he’d been friends with my father...and then he’d killed him.

I looked down at the shirt I was clutching, realizing that I’d clawed the material so much I was distorting the fabric. I smoothed it out, and then lifted it to my nose. I could smell Belial on it, and I was beyond pissed to report that he smelled amazing. I debated tossing it aside, but if I was actually going to get some rest, I’d be better off not trying to sleep in my combat gear. With a sigh, and a glance down the hallway to make sure Belial was gone, I began removing my clothes and folding them up. Then I yanked Belial’s shirt over my head, inhaling sharply. Unwanted desire rushed through me, making my thighs clench, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to snuggle the shirt even more or tear it off myself. It was surprisingly soft, and large enough to hit me at the top of my thighs. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I fluffed the pillow once more, and then collapsed onto the couch. I wanted to stay awake and snoop around, or make sure that he wasn’t going to murder me, but I was exhausted enough that I couldn’t think about doing anything other than lying down.