Dancing with Death

Meeting Death

"Love knows no difference between life and death. The one who gives you a reason to live is also the one who takes your breath away."
Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib

"My Lord,"

The shadowed immortal turned in the direction of the high pitch voice that carried from the now opened doors to his chamber, his attire consisted of well-ironed black slacks paired with a tight fitted dress shirt that he hadn't yet buttoned. The dark purple tone of his ruined flesh on full display to his visitor, the bit that wasn't usually displayed above the neck.

"Himiko, what is it?" he replied in his usual cool tone.

The male's electric blue eyes didn't settle on the small figure that hovered near the doorway, instead, it went to his reflection observing the steel that had been embedded in his burnt skin.

"It's nothing of great importance sir, just that –"

The blonde was silenced by a single raised hand, Dabi's attention now on the female who had spoken. "If it isn't anything of importance then why are you interrupting me? I do have a time limit, the last thing I need is to deal with an irritated Zeus."

Himiko blushed, her gaze had fallen on the onyx marbled floor beneath her bare feet as the apprentice of the God of Death regarded her. Dabi didn't have a desire to bed every living creature who wandered past him as the King of Olympus, Zeus did. The man never really acknowledged sexual desires, never truly crossing his thoughts, but it didn't mean he didn't engage in such actions or he didn't admire the raw beauty of other bodies.

The male had always found anatomy aesthetically pleasing, and due to their servants wearing little to no clothing at all he allowed himself to admire such. Dabi's gaze trailed down the easy slope of the woman's collared neck, a pet owned by a superior being. In a way, he too was also a pet.

Dabi eyed the swollen mounds of uncovered breasts and the slightly rounded canvas of her abdomen. Himiko like most of their servants only wore their uniform of long indigo, silk skirts that exposed only their steel anklets. He couldn't desire anyone, still, he craved the touch and sense of feeling he got whenever he shared a bed with the woman.

The control and domination made the male feverish who had forgotten all emotion countless ages ago. Dabi had taken Himiko countless times, the woman never protested. She enjoyed the roughness and cruelty that he had always used with her.

"I just wanted to wish you the best of luck, I know how much you detest these meetings."

Himiko's voice was now much quieter than what she had greeted him with, Dabi who had crossed the space between them towered over the woman, a scarred hand slid up the soft alabaster hew of her skin, fingers brushing over her navel and up each ridge of her rib cage.

"I don't need wishes of luck; the gods are the ones who should be gathering those as preparation for an evening spent with me."

The raven-haired male leaned low, his lips grazing the shuddering females' ear a low rubble of laughter escaped his throat. Dabi had closed his hand into a fist, the steel staples now passing over Himiko's aroused nipple. The desperate whimper that left the female made his chest swell with something like rage. How easily she would give herself to death.

Dabi never understood others' obsession nor attraction to him. It was sickening and pathetic. Why would you give away life to feel as he felt every day? Hollow. His hand moved at a godly speed, closing around the blonde's neck as he squeezed enough to make the other gasp. The way her golden hues watched him; pupils dilated with pure lust-fueled his anger further.