Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 30: Alula

*Exits cave with Dracula-like cape and pale skin with spicy red cheeto dust around her mouth.* I HAVE RETURNED, BITCHES. 

See my note at the end of the chapter for one HELL of a surprise... ;)

* * *

            I followed Death up a different set of stairs in his apartment, which lead to a spacious roof. I expected the cold air to smashed into my face when he unlatched the door and pushed it open, but to my awe, the temperature outside was equal to the temperature inside.

The roof over New York City and the view was breathtaking at night, a landscape of lights like stars shimmering across the dark buildings below us.

"Why isn't it cold out here?"

"It's the ward," Death explained gravely. He reached down and picked up a rubber doorstopper. He flung the small object up into the sky, and it ricocheted off an invisible dome, a 'ward,' as he put it, which made itself visible with electric blue fissures that stretched down to the edges of the roof. "Acts as an insulator. I put it up around my apartments a long time ago. It notifies me when anything tries to breach the barrier it forms, from the outside. You're safe up here."

"Wow." I walked a few paces further onto the roof, taking in the city landscape with a deep breath. The hair at the back of my neck prickled and I turned back to Death. He was watching me with a closed off expression. "So," I said, rather awkwardly. "Now what?"

He inclined a finger to himself. "Come here."

With my heart in my throat, I strode closer to him, the cautionary reaction to danger licking up my spine with each step.

"Stay right there," he commanded.

I glanced above me and laughed. "Is a piano going to drop on my head or something?"

"Or something." Death grabbed his long-sleeved shirt by the back and pulled it over his head. He should have just dropped a piano on me because I was deceased. I took in his herculean frame, his broad shoulders, powerful arms, and outrageously defined abdominals. He disposed of the silky shirt on the ground like he were in the middle of a photo-shoot and stood in a relaxed way. His torso was covered intricate black markings that disappeared into his sweatpants. The sweatpants hung low on his hips, and now I was picturing yanking them down a little further...

"Ehem. My eyes are up here."

I tore my gaze up and he seemed closer than before. Craning my neck up to his striking features, I swallowed a lump in my throat and uttered the only word I was dumbly capable of at the moment. "Strapping."

Strapping?! WTF?!

Death gave me a sly look with a raise of a pierced eyebrow. "Strapping?"

"I didn't––I mean––you––I––me––you––you look muscular." I ran a hand over my now blistering hot, flushed face. "Just forget I said anything."

He stared at me with a slightly amused expression.

"It's just, I've never seen you do a single crunch, and there you are, looking like a frigging infomercial model for the latest abdominals toy." I motioned to his well-developed stomach. "You could literally grate cheese on those things. Do you even work out?"

"I do workout, out of habit, and to relieve tension. I'm also trapped in the physical condition I was when I died."

"That, sir, is outrageously unfair to the rest of us flabbios."