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

Chapter 29: Pleasant Nightmares

"You don't have to be such a dick," I snapped, and his eyebrow popped up in a wicked arch. "You haven't exactly been welcoming toward me since I've arrived her."

"Maybe don't take it so personal, I despise everyone." Victorian Death rose from the bed and gripped the canopy post above his head, stretching out his shoulders like a massive cat. He sighed, scratched his pec and glided across the room. "Your corset is over there on the dresser, my darling pest."

I watched him run a hand through his dark shoulder length curly wavy hair in the mirror, confused as to why he was being so nice to me.

Crossing the room, I got one hand on the corset, when I felt his marked fingers slide over mine. He hadn't even made a sound when he walked. "A lady should never have to tie this herself. Allow me."

He stepped into me with the garment in hand and knotted the bottom of the ribbon along the back. Leaning down, he fit the ribbon side of the corset along my spine and pinned the first hook of the corset at the middle of my waist.

"You really should be more careful around here," Victorian Death said, clasping the front of the corset over my breasts as my heart raced from the intimacy of it. "The ribbon was tied far too tight around your ribs. You could have fainted before someone far less trustworthy."

I nearly snorted at the implication that he was to be trusted. His face was locked in concentration, and he showed no humor in his expression. He swiftly turned me around to tie my back, the feeling of him at my back making me feel a little bit dizzy.

"Where did you go in your sleep?" The question was like a caress against my ear. "You sounded so distressed."

My throat felt dry. "Nightmares have that effect on people."

"Indeed, they do, those torturous things." His flashed with intrigue in the mirror like two wicked, unmatched gems. "I'm jealous you can dream."

I turned toward him, mostly to free those magical fingers from my neck, but his hand remained on my nape, and he held me tilted back in his hand like a lover. My pulse rebounded off his palm. "You don't dream?"

His eyes drifted my lips. "You have to sleep to dream."

He released this hold on me, and I felt myself get colder outside of his embrace. Death turned his back on me and crossed the room in a few strides to leap onto his massive bed. Standing at the center with a wide stance, he tilted his head up, the knob in his throat sticking out as he did so. He stretched his arms over his head and tore down the canopy from his bed so that he could look straight up at the tower directly above his mattress. It was a miracle his pants stayed in place throughout the entire thing, and he hadn't flashed his whole dick.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Grinning, Death tossed the canopy curtain to the side onto the floor. "Come stand on the bed with me."

I walked warily closer. "Why?"

"Because I need your assistance."

Though he was leaned slightly forward toward me, his feet balanced perfectly on the edge of his bed. His obsidian hair "Is it to button your pants and put a shirt on? Seems like you're having some trouble there."

He didn't even glance down at himself, but he did reach down and slowly clasp a single button on his trousers. At least now it wasn't up to just gravity but also that teenie tiny button of sanctity. His head remained tilted down as he gave me a look from under his lashes that told me the shirt request wasn't going to happen.