Ezra The God of Death

Ezra The God of Death
He stumbled into the confines of his darkened room, falling to the ground with a sickening crack echoing around him because of the collision between his knees and the cold, black marble. 

His hands were in his hair as he tried to get rid of the voices blaring all around him, the cries of the dead, the sounds of his demons as he put his hands flat on the floor, his fingertips turning black, as darkness veined over his pale skin, gripping him further. 

He had seen her. 

Sitting there, in front of him, smiling at him with her deep, blue eyes filled with wonder and fascination. 

She was right there.

His mate. 

The one he had always dreaded finding because he didn't wish to subject another person to the agony that was his own life. The pain that had always become an unwelcome companion in his journey through life, now seemed even more extreme, considering that there was now a chance of infecting her with that pain as well; emotionally and possibly physically too. 

The burden born by him of all those forgotten by the sands of time, all those who passed onto his purgatory, had always been just his to bear and he hated to thought of bringing someone innocent as her into a place which was so corrupt and dreadful. 

She was his mate, but he prayed that they would never come across each other again. 

He had suppressed his true self in front of her, hoping that she wouldn't find out that he was her mate as well. He couldn't allow her to be caught up in his mess, not when things had been more terrifying than usual. 

That was when the double doors of his room opened up and he looked up to where the intruder now stood at the top of the two stairs which descended into his room from his door. 

"Go away, Scythe. I'm not in the mood for company." He grumbled, turning his eyes back towards the floor where he sat back on his heels, staring at nothing in particular as he tried to rid his mind of the pain that only continued to rise in his chest. 

Scythe rolled her crimson eyes, "oh, come on now, Ez, what are you being dramatic about today?" She asked stepping inside the spacious room after closing the door behind her. 

He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the image of his mate's ethereal face, gripping the roots of his hair as he felt Scythe coming closer to him before crouching down in front of him. 

She reached out to place her hands on his face, making him look into her crimson eyes and her freckled face. 

"Are you upset that I didn't join you to your brother's little soirée?" She asked in a sultry tone of voice, "you know I don't prefer going out in public with you, Ez. It's bad for my reputation to be seen with you." She smiled innocently, "you understand that, don't you?" She cooed, gently grazing the flecks of his hair, touching his flawless face. 

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in deep breaths as he tried to control his racing thoughts, knowing well that he couldn't possibly tell Scythe about the mate he had just come across. 

Scythe was a lesser Fae who lived in Sorin for the majority of time but when she wasn't in the Fae lands, she was with him, in his realm, in his chambers, in his bed. 

She was tall, but only reached till his chin, her lean built and straight hair falling till her shoulders were enough to make her a marvel to look at. Her skin was paler than the moon itself, and her crimson red eyes and dark lips along with the signature Fae pointed ears, made for a devil in the disguise of a goddess. 

"Ezra!" She said sharply, "are you even listening to me?" She asked him, clutching his face tighter in her hands as he finally broke the chain of his thoughts regarding the daughter of the moon. "Are you understanding why I wasn't there with you in Nyx's party?" She almost hissed. 

This was the other side of Scythe, the one who was enraged easily and was volatile. Her craving to exert dominance didn't always sit well with Ezra, but he had no choice but to bear it. She made things easier for him. 

And she was another reason why he couldn't bring his mate into the chaos that was his life or his realm. 

He couldn't do that to her. 

"Yes, I do." He muttered out, blinking away his wearied thoughts as Scythe smiled victoriously.

"Perfect." She mumbled, patting his cheek before she leaned forward to place her lips on his. 

He closed his eyes and for a brief moment, he pretended that his life was the same way it had been, about two hours ago. 

His hand gripped the back of her neck as she came to stradle his lap while their tongues fought for dominance. 

She let out a lustful moan as he pulled her closer to himself, devouring her mouth with every bit of resolve he could muster. 

But when he saw his mate's grin flashing behind his eyes once again, he pulled back, almost as if he had been struck by lightning. 

Scythe looked at him, drunk on the passion, with a sensuous smirk as her index finger grazed his sharp jawline, "what has gotten into you today? You're more....you, than on most days." She said, grinning widely as she leaned forward and started kissing his jaw, her hand slipping underneath his shirt where he had left the first few buttons open. 

He didn't speak, closing his eyes to get rid of the images from the short conversation he had with his mate. 

Valerie Anerva.

That's what she said his name was. It was a melody in itself.

In her eyes, he saw challenge, he saw excitement when she talked to him. He saw hope, flickering like the flame of a dying candle, and in those eyes, he saw pain. More profound than anything he had witnessed in someone other than himself. 

Her whole presence was so melancholic and yet, so addictive that he wished to hook himself onto her. 

He couldn't breathe in her presence, he couldn't help but feel like she had him trapped under her stormy blue orbs. 

And the more he thought of her, the more disgusted he felt about having the woman who was sitting in his lap at the moment. 

He placed his hands on Scythe's arms, trying to nudge her away, "Scythe, stop..." He mumbled, trying to get back to his senses.

However, Scythe's hands went to the remaining buttons of his shirt as she began to undo them, his words falling into deaf years. 

He shook his head with a pained expression on his face, "Scythe, no...stop..." He whispered, gripping her arms tighter, pushing her away. 

She increased her grip on her, which was strong but still not a match for his own strength.