Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4)

“I love you,” he breathes.

She can withstand death, which means …

She’s creation. Life.

Perhaps it’s because I cannot do so—not in any real sense. Her soul has cleaved itself to her flesh, and neither my hand nor my power can pry it loose.

And still, the urge to whisk her away rides me. It’s so foreign, so alarming, that my wings fan out, partially in shock, and partially in preparation to take flight.

There are four known creatures alive who have the power to kill off life in an instant. And only one of them has wings.

God’s last angel.

Death.

Mom used to tell me that there are certain foods you make with love. You press a bit of your very soul into the ingredients—hence the name

You snatched my loneliness from me,” he breathes, “and I hope you never give it back

I wanted—I still want—to know about you—what brings you joy, what makes you sad. Wilder still, I want to be one of the things that brings you joy.”

Technically, telling the truth should be easy. I hold all the answers to these questions within me. Unfortunately, I’ve buried my truths underneath so many convenient lies that I’m frightened to unearth them

I don’t remember myself when I look at the sky.” He takes my hand and tilts his head to face me once more. “I remember myself when I look at you.”

“I don’t want to be here, Laz. I lived, I loved, and I died,” she says carefully. “And you don’t get to change the rules.”