Death
Laura ThalassaDeath Sözleri ve Alıntıları
Death sözleri ve alıntılarını, Death kitap alıntılarını, Death en etkileyici cümleleri ve paragragları 1000Kitap'ta bulabilirsiniz.
“What’s your name?” I ask, keeping my arrow aimed at his chest. “Or do you only go by Death?”
“Oh, I have many names.” His gaze returns to my lips, and a muscle in his jaw flexes.
“And what are they?”
“Anubis. Yama. Xoltol. Vanth. Charon. Mors. Mara. Azrael—and many, many others.” His eyes flick to mine. “But for you, Thanatos.”
He’s trying to care for me, like some sort of good partner. I mocked his first attempt, so now he’s found the biggest house with the nicest things to make up for it.
Don’t you dare be moved by this, Lazarus. Don’t do it.
In spite of my brain’s very sage advice, I thaw—just a little.
I can’t help it, I start laughing—I laugh so hard my entire body shakes with it.
“It’s really not,” I say, quieting down.
His eyes have returned to my face, and despite looking a little queasy, he stares at me like he’s never seen anything like me before.
“Do that again,” he says quietly.
“Do what?” I ask.
“Laugh.”
“Now will you tell me one of your secrets?” I say.
It’s quiet for several seconds.
“I do not like taking lives,” he admits softly.
I go still against him.
“What?” I turn in my seat, trying to see Thanatos better.
“I do not like taking lives,” he says again, more forcefully, his gaze almost challenging as he stares down at me.
“Unlike my brothers, I have never enjoyed it,” he continues. “I do it because I must, but, Lazarus, it is a terrible agony most of the time.”
Am I hearing him correctly? “But—”
“I am not saying that death is wrong,” he continues, “or that what lies beyond isn’t better. I am not even saying that I don’t believe in my task. But the act of taking someone who is scared of death, or who is happy with life, or who is not ready—and so few are ready—wearies me to the bone. I grimly do my job, but I have never gotten joy from taking a life.”
I am reeling.
“Is there joy in what you do?” I ask after a moment.
He’s quiet again.
“Yes,” he finally admits. “After I release them. When a soul sees what lies beyond, when they truly remember what they are and have been this entire time—that moment is joy.”
Everything in me demands I take her.
Everything.
Perhaps it’s because I cannot do so—not in any real sense. Her soul has cleaved itself to her flesh, and neither my hand nor my power can pry it loose.
And still, the urge to whisk her away rides me. It’s so foreign, so alarming, that my wings fan out, partially in shock, and partially in preparation to take flight.
I felt it the moment I saw her, and the sensation still hasn’t abated.
I take a few more steps towards the road, and suddenly, I see him.
Backlit by the morning sun, looking like some dark god, is a rider clad in silver armor, a set of black wings at his back.
Those wicked wings are all I can look at for a moment. They are just as impossible to comprehend as the sea of corpses behind me.
There are four known creatures alive who have the power to kill off life in an instant. And only one of them has wings.
God’s last angel.
Death.
“You are finally mine,” he says, his words exalted.
They send a strange mixture of dread and excitement through me. How I long to stop this monster. How I have to keep fighting my ridiculous attraction to him.
“I have imagined this moment countless times,” he admits.
“What do you feel for me?”
His lips fall to my ear. “Many, many things, Lazarus.”
Definitely wants to hate-fuck me.
My breath hitches at the thought of lying beneath Death, his body driving into mine.
Apparently I’m not completely against the idea either.
Jesus.
I frown as I study him. I’ve never seen anyone so … so grotesquely handsome—handsome and lethal. There should be a name for that kind of beauty, the kind that literally kills.
I look him over the same way he did me. I hate that I find everything about him beautiful—from that ancient, tragic face to those strange wings, to his massive frame and his intricate silver armor. It all calls to me.
The corner of his mouth lifts as he watches me scrutinize him.
“Before I healed you,” he says softly, “I assumed using my power to heal was wrong. I can see now that it was me who was wrong.” His gaze dips to my mouth. “I find myself longing for another reason to hold you close.” This last confession just seems to slip out with the rest.
My gaze returns to that strange couple on his armor. Now I do reach out and trace a finger over what I can see of the skeleton.
Thanatos’s gaze drops to my finger.
“Death and life, caught in an eternal embrace,” he explains.
“They look like lovers,” I whisper.
“They are lovers.” His eyes find mine, and I swear they can see straight to my soul.