Then, with a low growl, he reaches forward and grabs me by the throat, his gloves gripping tight, and lifts me back toward him so I’m just on my knees and I’m struggling to breathe. With his hand pressed against my neck, his other hand slides down over my stomach and starts fingering my clit, the texture of the glove still rough despite how wet I am.
I try to talk but can’t. I reach up to his fingers and try to pry them off my neck, feeling like I’m losing consciousness. At the same time, I’m close to coming and I’m realizing they’re pretty much the same thing, a total submission to the unknown. Gray spots invade my vision, and I’m standing on an edge, ready to give in and take the plunge into darkness.
Then his grip lessens, and I’m gulping in air just as his fingers work me faster, the wet sounds so lewd in the dark of the room.
“Fly away with me, little bird,” he grunts in my ear, stroking my clit harder and harder until it feels like the beating of wings. “Fly away with me.”
Oh, god.
“Fuck!” I scream, the word shattering in the air and then I’m shattering too. The pressure releases, my body lets go, and I’m shot into the unknown. The whole room turns black, and silver stars fill the space and I don’t even know where I am anymore, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I’m just bliss, just a being floating through time, lost to the waves of pleasure that rip through my body, making my limbs shake, my heart pound, my cries echo…
Oh my god, I’m not dead am I?
He didn’t accidentally give me the hand?
I blink and then suddenly the black velvet night and the silver stars fade away until they’re just outside the window. I’m in my bedroom again, and Death is still inside me, his thrusting slowing, his rough gloved hands still stroking me, holding me tight.
His breath hitches, there’s a gasp, then he quickly pulls out of me with a shockingly wet sound, leaving me hollow inside. I feel him come on my back in hot spurts that never seem to end, his shuddering moan shaking the bed.
The room fills with the sound of our panting breaths, my head pounds with my beating heart. My limbs start to tremble with the strain and Death releases me, so I’m collapsing to the bed.
Good lord that was…there are no words.
I lie there, staring out the window at a crystal-clear night sky. But Death isn’t asleep. He’s awake. With me.
Until he’s not.
He reaches forward and retrieves his mask.
I want to roll over, look at him, say something, cover up, but I’m hit with a tidal wave of exhaustion.
My eyes close just before he leaves the room.
We never said a word to each other.
Chapter 17
The Sect of the Undead
The next morning Raila wakes me up.
You’ve slept in, dear Hanna, Raila’s voice slides into my head as her gloved hand roughly shakes my shoulder. Time to get up now.
All the finesse of an ox this one has, I think groggily to myself.
My eyes open, blinking at the light coming in the room.
Sunlight.
It’s not streaming in, but it’s there. It’s diffused. The morning is misted over as always, but today I can make out the Everest-type peak of Mount Vipunen. Beyond that, the sun is trying to burn through the clouds. I try and recall the name of the Sun Goddess. Is it Päivätär? So many of the Finnish names sound the same. Either way, this is the first time I’ve felt her presence.
“It’s bright outside,” I say, rubbing my bleary eyes.
Yes, it is, Raila says, sounding chipper as always. This is good news for the garden. Pyry will be happy. She has so many things she wants to grow in the sun.
I briefly wonder if it’s my doing. I mean, I don’t want to toot any horns or anything, but unless I was dreaming, I’m pretty sure Death got off on me last night. When I move, I can feel the dried places where he marked me. In a weird way, it’s kind of hot, even the next morning.
But that feeling only lasts a moment. Because then the shame comes in.
I invited Death into my bed. He fucked me raw. He came on my back. He got what he wanted from the start.
Then again, I got what I wanted too. I mean, at least I got off. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy the whole experience, that would be a lie. But my hormones and my emotions are all sorts of vulnerable this morning, like a nerve exposed to air. I can’t say this is new to me—even when I have one-night stands, I have this oppressive feeling that sets in the moment the orgasm fades—but even so, I don’t want to dwell on it.