“Love?” he questions again, arching a dark brow in my direction. 
“Oh,” I gasp out laughing at myself. “How do you feel about being an accessory to a small, teeny, tiny crime? Like there wouldn’t be a documentary about the crime if I were human, but I could seriously be fined and spend a few hours in a slammer sized crime,” I ask him. 
His lip twitches in amusement. “What did you do?” he asks, his voice deep and amused, not at all frustrated or judgmental. Could this reaper get any hotter? 
“I may or may not have hypothetically stolen Eros’ super special plated quiver and arrows,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. 
Death laughs, and it makes my smile widen.

“Death,” she rasps my name. As much as I like my name on her lips, I can think of an honorific I’d like much more. We’ll work our way up to that. 
The chair screeches, likely drawing more attention as I sit before her, grabbing her thighs and tugging her closer to the table’s edge. 
“Yes, Love?” I ask with an arch of a brow, my thumb reaching out and strumming her clit. 
“Oh, hell.” 
“Mmm. I go to Hell quite often. This is much closer to Heaven, I’d say.” 
She knocks over a glass, causing more noise and attention to our table, but falls back on her elbows, still watching me as I toy with her.