He stared straight into my eyes and asked, “Will you be mine?”
Pressing the blade deeper into my throat, he asked, “Are you ready to be Death’s wife?”
I stared back into the brownest eyes I’d ever seen and whispered, “Yes. Yes, I am.”
As the blade pressed deeper into my throat, I could feel my life ebbing from me, blood trickling faster down my throat. Tears streamed down my cheeks. The pain was unbearable. Torturous.
“You do realise that I am the embodiment of death? The reaper of souls. Prince of the underworld; About to ascend the throne of Hell. And you want to be my wife?”,with a smirk, as if amused at what would either be absolute bravery or absolute stupidity.
“Yes. I do.”
“You haven’t even seen my real self.”
“I don’t care.”
“Why do you want to be my wife?” his tone and expression turning hard.
“Because I love you.”
“Are you scared? Does it hurt?” he asked, the sarcasm extremely evident as a small gasp escaped my mouth, as I tried not to faint from the pain.
Determined to prove myself to be worthy of him, I said, “No. Not one bit.”
Four years of high school, I had been dating Lucas and it was only when my grandfather died four months ago, I realised who he was. Correction. Who he really is. I had watched him bottle up my grandfather’s soul and many others’ after that.
I was never scared of Lucas. Even at this point, when he had a knife in my throat, I wasn’t scared.
I felt faint. On the verge of blacking out due to losing so much blood.
He bit his lip, smiled and stepped away from me, as he threw the knife on the floor.
I looked into the mirror to gage how bad the wound was, surprised I didn’t pass out.
There wasn’t even a scratch on my neck. I turned around only to see my body slumped on the floor, Lucas cleaning the blood off the knife with the whitest handkerchief I’d ever seen.
“The wedding is next week my queen.”, he said, with the slightest smile on his face.
Author ~ Zoyah Virani Editor ~ Sanya Chadha