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

Chapter 16: Torn Corsets

*KAT LEVITATES HIGH INTO THE DARK SPOOKY SEASON SKY, LOOKING DOWN UPON THE CUPCAKES IN EVIL EXCITEMENT FOR THIS CHAPTER*

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           "What were you just about to do to this woman?" Kalace asked, still out of my line of vision, but sounding greatly concerned.

Death gazed down at my body beneath him on the table, as if he'd forgotten I was even there. "Her?"

"Yes, her. Your talons are in her corset!"

Death's nails retracted back into his fingertips like a cat, and he released my corset, stepping back fast as if to free himself of any blame. "What does it look like we were about to do?" he countered with an arrogant smirk. "We were just playing a little rough. She's feisty, this one."

Realizing I had my moment to make a move, I got up quickly off the side of the table away from Death, brushing bits off food off me as I stood. I locked eyes with Kalace across the way. He looked vastly different than how I remembered him from Alexandru's Roman past. His once brown hair was now stark white, clasped behind his head in a low ponytail. I could see it hung bone-straight down to his hips as he turned more fully toward Death. He was paler like current Ace, although he lacked current Ace's notorious bright violet irises. His were still hazel. Human in appearance.

Ace's gaze swept over me briefly, concern knitting his brow. "Is he telling the truth? Were you playing a little rough?"

Sliding a bit of food out of my hair, I glanced over at Death, remembering how he'd totally turned psycho on me just three minutes before. His feline mismatched eyes narrowed and clung to mine. Something flashed within them in a dangerous warning.

"I mean, yes," I muttered, "technically that's the truth. To him."

Kalace gestured casually. "So, I can assume he was about to rip your throat out?"

I nodded vigorously. "It's a fair assumption, yes––"

"This is a throwaway conversation," Death's deep voice layered over mine. "She's irrelevant, and I can assure you, and whatever I was about to do with her is none of your concern." Death briefly glanced over at me and inclined his head rudely toward the door. "You're dismissed."

"No, she is not," Kalace said. "She scared out of her wits. Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Death answered for me. "She was just leaving."

"She stays," Kalace said firmly. "Until I can confirm you are no longer having an episode, I think this is best."

The two men glared at each other for a tense moment. Death side-eyed me with a nasty look, before cracking his neck to the side.

"Fine," he grated out, putting on a friendlier front. "Whatever makes you feel more at home, Kalace. I am thrilled you are here. Hardly recognized you with that long, lustrous hair. Developed a fear of shears, have we?" The taunt to his voice was evident, but Kalace did not take the bait. He remained quiet, stoically scrutinizing Death from afar. "You made the right choice to come," Death added, in lieu of Kalace not answering him.

"I had very little choice in the matter," Kalace said, his chin lifting. "I was driven from my home."
"Truly?" Death scratched his nose with a pointed gloved finger. "How terrible."