Death is My Frenemy Rewritten (Book 3 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 9: Damnatio ad Bestia

*SUMMONS ALL THE CUPCAKES*

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"This is the safest seating," Alexandru said, as we arrived to an archway inside the colosseum. The sudden, not-so-distant uproar of a crowd made it clear we were just outside the stands. The guards on either side of the archway let Alexandru through, leading us to a short hallway, where the sounds of people shouting became louder. 

Two guards stood at the end of the short entrance nodded to him, but he stopped walking and turned around to face me. The afternoon light shone against the crown of his hair, shadowing his troubled expression. "Will you be okay on your own?"

Little did he know, I'd been by myself all of this time. "I think I can manage." I gripped my backpack by the side straps on either side of me. "Will you be okay?"

"Well, I am with certain not looking forward to being beaten into the sand by Remus and shamed by thousands of people. But I will get through it, if that is what you mean."

"Now that's the spirit," I said, giving him a playful punch in the arm. Damn, those boulder workouts really did him some favors. "Look at it this way. All those women that will be in the stands filling their necklaces with your blood? I have a feeling they'll still be your fans, even after you lose.'

He grinned a little. "You sound jealous."

"I am," I half-way joked. "Where's my blood-filled necklace?"

 "Now you mock my admirers." His grin widened. "It is obvious you are protective."

"I'm just saying, win or lose, they would lick your dirty toe nail if you gave any of them attention." I twisted the hair at the end of my braid, biting back a laugh. "So, you won't be entirely shamed by Rome if you lose."

He shook his head at me, still smiling. "Is this what you imagine my life is? Women begging to lick my dirty feet?"

"Nah. You'd probably be a lot less irritable about your situation if that were the case...."

Alexandru rubbed his thumb over his lip, laughing under his breath. He gave me a long look, before casting a look back at the guards. Then he brushed past me, grabbing my hand as he did so. "Where are we––?"

"Shh." He pulled me back into the stone hallway and pressed me back against the wall.

My breath left me in a small gasp, my vision crowded with his golden armor, just before his head dipped down. His mouth tasted mine in a slow, sizzling kiss that made my head spin. The feeling of his strong hands on my waist, the scent of sweat and oils on his skin, the silken softness of his lips, it was all too much. It seemed all seemed to consume me, drain me, as he pulled away, like some wicked last good-night goodbye

I could hardly meet his gaze after a kiss like that. I looked down at his tanned forearm, how it was normal man's, without any of Death's otherworldly tattoos.

"I must see you after the fight," Alexandru said, his voice slightly rougher, his lips dragging a path up my cheekbone. "Will you stay?"

Stay. It triggered a flash of a gut-wrenching memory. Death eyes had been so large and dim as he lay dying on the floor of the mausoleum. Just stay.