(296 words)

The fire spread quickly, eating its way through the rich apartment and into the bedroom, surrounding the woman on the bed. A deep breath ended in a cough when the black smoke registered, and she opened her eyes, blinded by the violent flickers and thick fumes.

“My God! My God!” The only way out was blocked by the heat. The only door. Still, there was the window. She could reach the window. But on the twentieth floor, there was no way… She sobbed, trapped, and saw Death at the foot of her bed.

“My God.”

He looked nothing like she had thought he would, shorn black hair and midnight eyes, completely human, male and beautiful. Insanely she thought he couldn’t be. There was no possible way that he could be so dangerous as Death! He had to be here to save her.

“Please!”

He looked, endless eyes devouring her, one eyebrow arched, asking. And she answered, without his speaking a word.

“I’d do anything! Please! Oh, God.”

The flames were closer, licking at the expensive rug, while Death beckoned her. And she came, kneeling when he pushed her to the floor at his feet. His eyes never strayed from her own.

“Anything.” she said.

And he was naked, suddenly, and her face was in his crotch, lips open, and he was cold enough to burn. The house fell around them, flames eating at the floor, consuming the bed, ignoring the sirens of the engines outside, but still he never warmed.

Soon, the fireman had pulled her from the window covered in ash, black as sin but alive, and marveled. “Good lord, you’re cold as ice.”

She could only sob, shocked, confused, horrified. Being so close to Death had left such a terrible taste in her mouth.