Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 4: D-Rated TV

Death gripped my upper arm and the world whirled around me as if I was on a slanted merry-go-round. In the small fraction of time that we were moving, I couldn't breath and my equilibrium as thrown off balance. We resurfaced in a spacious office with a massive glass conference table. I toppled into a leather-wheeling chair, gripping it for dear life as it glided forwarded a few feet.

"I was supposed to tell you to inhale before I whizzed you here, wasn't I?"

The room spun as I clutched the seat of the chair. "You... jerk!"

"Jerk? What is this, G rated television?" Death dug into his pocket and threw a coin at me. "Here, put that in the swear jar, you little devil."

I was so infuriated and flushed that I imagined I was blue in the face. I pelted the coin back at him and he snatched it like clockwork before it hit his face. "Screw you, Alex!"

Death's jaw tightened."Hm." He bit into his donut and then sharply kicked my swivel chair with his combat boot. I lost my grip on the chair and face-planted onto the floor, biting my tongue in the process. I tasted copper.

"Help her up." I looked up and found Devin Star at the head of the conference table. He wore a pristine navy suit and red tie, with his blonde hair styled away from his face. His sapphire eyes were furious, unnaturally bright, and aimed like daggers at Death. "Now. And then have a seat across from her."

Death stared at Devin for a long moment and then grudgingly offered me his gloved hand. I smacked it away, stood up by myself, and found another chair to sit in. I could feel his Death's gaze linger at the back of my neck, before he stalked around the table and dropped into the swivel chair across from me.

"Nice cloak," Devin commented lightly. "You know that's Chanel, right?"

"I heard you own Chanel."

"I do." He flashed his pearly whites. "I prefer Prada, though."

"That was smooth," I praised with a laugh.

"Thank you. Now, I ask that you please excuse Death's poor behavior." Devin sipped his coffee. Or at least, that's what I thought it was. It also could have been the blood of his enemies in a stylish D & S Towers mug. "Believe it or not, some boys take more than two-thousand years to mature."

"Ah, but there are some parts of me that needn't grow," Death said and kicked his boots up onto the conference table. His hooded head swung in my direction, and he tugged his lip piercings with his teeth. "Wouldn't you agree with that, birthday girl?"

The memories I tried to suppress came flooding back again as I recalled Death's naked beast form. Blood rushed to my face. Yeah, I definitely agreed with him, but I wouldn't buy into Death's favorite game called How to Make Girl uncomfortable. I was still mad that he'd kicked the chair. In fact, I even refused to even look at him, and knew it was currently driving him insane. Ha. Take that.

"As I was saying, Faith," Devin continued. "You are well aware that your life was spared when you were a child because of a deal struck between your mother and Death. A deal that guaranteed Death possession of your soul when you turned eighteen."

"I recall that." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I see what you're doing here. Buttering me up with that dazzling smile and pretty golden locks because you and Hood over there want something from me. But here's the thing. You tricked me, lied to me, and kidnapped my aunt and stuck your trident in her. Everything that Death did to me, you let happen. So you're no better than him, really. At least he had the restraint not bang one of my family members."