love in death

The smell of lilies was always the first thing to return. It was the scent of my own funeral, a cloying sweetness that made me want to gag.

 I opened my eyes and didn't move. I didn't breathe. I just counted the cracks in the gold-leaf ceiling of the ducal bedchamber. One, two, three... I knew them all. I had memorized them while gasping my last breath in Life Four. I had stared at them while my vision went black in Life Seven.

 I was back. Life Ten. My final chance.

 I sat up, my silk nightgown sliding against my skin. It felt like a shroud. I looked at my hands—they were steady, but my soul was screaming. Every inch of my body remembered the sensation of Julian’s fingers tightening around my throat, the desperate, confused look in his eyes just before the "Darkness" took him over.

 He didn't know. That was the cruelest part of the curse. He killed me in the throes of passion, and then the world reset for me—but for him, it was always the first time. He was a monster who woke up every morning thinking he was a saint.

 The heavy oak doors creaked open.

 I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it hurt.

 Julian Valerius stepped into the room. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and the most terrifying thing I had ever loved. His silver hair was tossed, his white shirt unbuttoned to reveal the hard, muscular planes of a chest I had died against nine times.

 "Elowen," he murmured. His voice was like dark honey. "You’re awake early."

 He walked toward the bed with the grace of a predator who thought he was a protector. When he sat on the edge of the mattress, the bed tilted. I instinctively scrambled backward, my back hitting the headboard.

 Julian’s hand froze in mid-air. He was reaching for my cheek. His brow furrowed, a flash of genuine hurt crossing his handsome face. "You flinched. Why did you flinch from me, my love?"

 Because I can still feel your thumb crushing my windpipe, I wanted to scream.

 "I... I had a nightmare," I whispered. My voice was raspy.

 Julian’s expression softened instantly. He leaned in, his scent—sandalwood and cold rain—filling my lungs. "It was just a dream, Elowen. You’re safe here. I have you."

 He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. It was the "Safe Place" that always became my grave. I felt the heat of his skin, the strength in his arms. I loved him. God help me, despite the nine deaths, I still loved him. And that was the true curse.

 "Julian," I said, my face pressed against his heart. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It sounded so normal. So human. "Do you love me?"

 He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. His gaze was intense, obsessive. "More than my own soul. I would burn this kingdom to the ground to keep you."

 "Then don't touch me," I said.

 The silence that followed was deafening. Julian’s eyes darkened, the silver in them turning to a stormy charcoal. "What?"

 "Not today. No kissing. No... intimacy." I struggled to keep my voice from shaking. "If you love me, give me twenty-four hours of distance. Please."

 Julian stood up, the warmth leaving the bed instantly. He looked down at me, his jaw tight. "Is this a game, Elowen? We were married only a week ago. My blood burns for you, and you ask me to stay away?"

 "I am asking for my life!" I snapped, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

 Julian went still. The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to stretch, reacting to his sudden shift in mood. "Your life? Do you think I am a threat to you?"

 "I think..." I paused, looking at the door. I had to get to the library. I had to find the ritual. "I think we are both in danger, Julian. Just give me today."

 He stared at me for a long, agonizing minute. The air in the room grew heavy, the temperature dropping until I could see my own breath. This was the "Darkness" starting to stir, even without the sex. The curse was getting stronger with every rebirth.

 "Fine," he rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones. "One day. But know this, Elowen—I cannot stay away from you forever. It is not in my nature."

 He turned on his heel and strode out, slamming the door so hard a vase of lilies shattered on the floor.

 I didn't waste a second. I scrambled out of bed, ignoring the glass, and ran to the floorboards near the window. In Life Seven, I had spent my final hours scratching a message into the wood under the rug, hoping my next self would find it.

 I ripped back the heavy velvet rug. My fingernails tore as I pried up the loose board.

 There, hidden in the dark dust, was a small, leather-bound diary and a dried rose stained with old, brown blood. I opened the first page. The handwriting was mine, but it was frantic, jagged.

 "If you are reading this, I am dead again. He doesn't know he's doing it. Look at the mirror in the North Tower. The reflection isn't him. It's—"

 The sentence ended in a bloody smear.

 Suddenly, a cold hand clapped over my mouth from behind.

 I tried to scream, but the sound was muffled. I was pulled back against a chest that was ice-cold. A voice whispered into my ear—a voice that sounded like Julian’s, but it was twisted, hollow, and ancient.

 "You weren't supposed to find that yet, little bird."

 I looked at the mirror across the room. I saw myself, trapped in the grip of a shadow. But standing behind me wasn't Julian.

 It was a skeleton wearing his wedding ring.