Amber was speechless. She didn't need anymore evidence to know that it was truly him. She held the material of his cloak between her fingers, 'It was really him.'
How was something she was yet to find out. How was it possible. Did it actually make any sense?
Death brushed his nose along her neck, "You smell so fucking good." He groaned, "It's really been far too long for chocolate. Finally, you're mine again. You have no idea how much it was hurting me trying to be the nice guy and hold myself back from wrapping my arms around this waist of yours." He lifted his hands to her waist, her shirt lifting slightly as he did.
Amber closed her eyes when his fingers brushed against her bare skin but pushed him away from her, "I'm not yours. I was never yours."
