Making Love To Death (One Night With Death) by Natalie Kristen Read Free Book Online Page B

gripping her blouse and ripping it
from her body. As she ran her fingers over the sheer material, she
could feel his touch, his heat, his passion. He had held her and
loved her. And this time she hadn't dreamed it. He did come back.
He had come for her, for the last time.
    And he was gone.
    She picked up the framed photograph of her six-year-old
son, Luc, from her desk and put it into the drawer with her ripped
blouse. These were the two things that would remind her constantly
of Death and what he had shared with her. Emma exhaled a long, shaky
breath. He said he knew. He knew about Luc, and he said he wanted
to be with them forever. What did he mean?
    She shook her head and closed the drawer softly. If she
had asked him, he would simply have told her that he meant exactly
what he meant.
    Ah, he would be the Death of her.
    Emma smirked. That was funny. To a degree.
    But what was even funnier, and sadder, was that she
seemed to be courting Death, wishing for Death. Emma gave herself a
firm, sobering mental kick and stood up. She needed to be with
people right now.
    Opening the door, she stopped at her secretary's desk
and said, “There's a staff reception on the thirteenth floor
conference room to welcome the two new partners. Shall we go?”
    “ Oh.” Suzie looked up, startled. “But
you never attend the receptions, Miss Davis,” Suzie blurted out
in surprise. “You're forever rushing to finish up your work
and...”
    Emma gave a lopsided smile. “Never say never.
And forever can't be forever. So, stop typing already. Let's go
eat, drink and be merry!”

Part
3: Death and the Bride

    *****
    Love hurts and
passion burns.
    Death will have
to pay the ultimate price for his lapse and his undying love and
desire for Emma.
    Is their love
strong enough to overcome every obstacle in their path—even
Death?

    *****

Chapter Eight

    The flames leaped and danced around Death, taunting and
tasting his naked flesh. He gritted his teeth against the scorching
heat and the sharp flicks of pain as the flames lapped at him. He
stood in the circle of advancing, raging fires, his back ramrod
straight against the stake, his hands tied behind his back. He had
to burn, for all that he had done. These fires, these torments were
his to bear, for everything that he shouldn't have done, and for
something that he must now do. It was the only way, the only way to
be reborn and redeemed.
    His tanned skin was reddening and blistering as the heat
intensified. The fires became whips, lashing at his torso to draw
blood. Boils bubbled on his skin and burst open, spilling blood and
pus down the length of his muscular body.
    Death bowed his blond head and closed his eyes. Only
her memory kept him sane. He would endure this for her. For Emma.
    He could see her, smiling, laughing, hugging her son. Their son. He had held her in his arms again, and even
through the acrid smell of his own burning flesh, he could still
smell her lingering scent. She had melted against his hard body,
yielding, surrendering to his touch, his kiss, his desire. He would
never forget her voice, her soft whispers and murmurs, her moans and
cries of ecstasy. Behind his closed eyelids, against the pulsing
red, her soft curves shimmered into view. He saw the gentle curve of
her neck, her waist, the swell of her beautiful breasts, her nipples
erect and glistening, her thighs quivering as he parted them to taste
her. He could still see the sheen of sweat on her skin as she rode
him, her hips grinding down on him as he thrust deep into her. She
had come so hard for him, his Emma...
    The flames flicked at his belly with their barbed tips,
slicing his gut open. Death clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out.
These fires were meant to torment him, test him, cleanse him—and
hopefully, kill him.
    No human would be able to withstand these infernal
flames. They burnt higher, hotter and hungrier. The intense heat
would have melted a mere mortal's flesh to a puddle of blood and
piss, liquified