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

Chapter 2: Alexandru Cruscellio

Suddenly I heard what sounded like a deep male curse.

My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. I slowly turned my head to the other side, looking back out into the water. There was a man at the center of the river. I couldn't see his face, but his head appeared to be angled down at the water, like he was trying to see something. He plunged down into the river, disappearing for a minute or so, before bobbing back up again with a gasp. Turning toward the bank, his powerful arms carried him effortlessly as he swam hard and fast.

When his rose up from the water, it was as if it were a sin walking in slow motion. Water clung to his deeply suntanned skin, maneuvering down his broad shoulders and chest. He waded further up the bank, my eyes following the seductive trails of water down his tampered waist, the preposterous deep ridges of abdominals. The 'V' of his hips unveiled with his bare, powerful legs. My poor innocent eyes feasted a moment too long on the depths of damnation before me.

"Oh, my God," I muttered, before I snapped out of it and had the awareness to look sharply away.

He was completely naked.

And he was Death.

Well, Death before he became Death. I mean, of course kinda pieced two and two together after I saw non-demon horse Cruentas and the whole Roman tunic looking thing, plus I'd gotten a brief look of his face as he came up the bank. Like, before the whole slow-motion, coming-out-of-the water-buck-naked-don't-give-a-damn moment.

I assumed I was probably two-thousand years in time in the Roman era. The freaking Roman era. As I mentally tried to reel this over how far back I'd gone into Death's memories and his fading conscious, Alexandru's shadow suddenly cast a bit of darkness over the ground. He stood over me

"Potest ego meam tunicam?"

"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered to his shadow.

Right when it couldn't get any more awkward. Of course, he spoke Latin, because this freaking memory had to be accurate to the time of the memory and couldn't be convenient to me whats-so-ever.

He repeated the same foreign question once more, slower this time. My thoughts were racing to try and think of a way through this, as he continued to rant at me. "Dude, I don't understand what you're saying, and I'm a little overwhelmed here by the language barrier. And could you please just cover your––"

Alexandru dropped my wet backpack at my feet and not-so-nicely snatched his tunic from his hands.

Ok, rude, and he'd clearly asked for his dress thing back.

I hadn't even noticed he'd rescued my backpack, which explained why he'd been out in the river in the first place. Huh. That was nice of him.

"Quam impetro vestry ad amnem?" Alexandru asked, bending down to snatch another discarded item of clothing on the ground. He pulled the garment on underneath his tunic, halfway turning away from me as he slipped it over his thighs like it was underwear. If it was any attempt at decency, it was a poor one, because all I got was an accidental eyeful of his stupid perfect ass.

He turned toward me again and ran through his wet hair, shaking it out with his fingers to dry it. The man had amazing hair. I mean, so did future Death––his hair was always styled with sinful perfection, but Alexandru had a beautiful mane of a Greek God. He had thick, shoulder-length, golden blond hair with natural highlights of honey and amber that girl's went to the salon for hours to achieve. His hair was more wavy than curly when it was longer. It reminded me of a lion's beautiful mane.