HOWDY, REAPERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT'S CRACKIN? HOW DOST THOU DO?

So I had a decision with this chapter. Either I could post part of it and give you guys a taste of the sexy (hehe) chapter I've been working on, or make you guys wait another week or so. I'm trying to work in updating on Wattpad more now that I've made some headway with my writing project outside of Wattpad (hehehehe). I decided to post part of the chapter, figuring your comments and love will motivate me to finish the chapter quicker!!!

Where have I been????? What is this project I speak of?? I'M GLAD YOU ASKED. If you haven't been following my updates on Facebook/Twitter/my profile, I've been writing for the PUBLISHED version of Death Is My BFF!! Since June of 2017 I've been rewriting Death Is My BFF (again) to be published! New scenes, new one-liners, and so many AWESOME new scenes with Death and Faith. I'm in the early stages of editing and a LOT had to be changed, but it's all for the better! I've already finished about 14 chapters already and it is AMAZING so far! I'm VERY excited for you guys to see the published version, it's turning out so delicious!!!!! mwaahhahaa ;))))

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME DURING THIS PROCESS!!! MOMMA LOVES YOU!!

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Twitter/Instagram/Snapchat: katrocks247

SHARE YOUR FAVORITE QUOTE FROM THE DEATH SERIES WITH ME ON TWITTER FOR A FOLLOW!!! ;)

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When I finally mustered up the courage to exit my guest bedroom, imagine my surprise when there was a buffet of food waiting on Death's dinning room table.

            "Whoa."

            The first thing my starving eyes fell on was large ceramic tray filled to the brim with mac and cheese. My mouth watered. It wasn't the store bought, rubbery kind of mac and cheese where you dump in bright yellow artificial powder and mix, which I often ate at home, but instead a homemade mac and cheese with bacon and a bread crumb crust. Next to that was a bowl of pan-fried string beans with almonds, a Caesar salad with crotons, lettuce, tomato and cucumber, and a fresh fruit salad with champagne grapes.  By the time I saw the mountain of mashed potatoes, my empty stomach was howling like a wolf standing before twenty full moons.

            Had Death made all of this? There was no way. I couldn't imagine a man as intimidating and beastly as him having the patience to make food. Edging closer to the table, I stole a glance around the spacious, dim apartment. Where even was he?

            Wasting no more time, I grabbed a plate that was set up on the table, took a serving spoon, and shoveled that sexy mac and cheese onto my plate.

            Ravenous, I snuck a big forkful of pasta before I added anything else to my dish and muffled a moan. Oh, hell yes–

            "You didn't say grace."

            Startled, I whirled around with a yelp and nearly choked on my food. Death, of course, was directly behind me.

He leaned against the archway leading toward the bedrooms, a smirk curving his pierced lips. His fawx hawk of midnight black hair was slightly damp and wild, leaving a few slightly curly-wavy strands tumbling over his forehead. He had definitely showered, by the delicious scent of citrus with notes of fresh laundry and leather he was dispersing like a sweet poison from his pores. Wearing only dark grey sweatpants, a black long sleeved T-shirt, and his typical black leather gloves, the bastard worked the comfort-sexy outfit effortlessly.

            "Did you–?" I started to ask, but my words got lodged in my incredibly dry mouth. I cleared my throat and restarted. "Did you do all of this?"

            He only nodded. Now that I checked him out, he decided that it was his turn. His shadowed green eyes slid over my body, too, lingering appreciatively on my bare legs. Conveniently, there hadn't been anything for me to wear after my insanely bloody practice battle earlier, besides booty shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

            "My eyes are up here," I snapped.

            His attention lifted slowly up my breasts instead.

            I became aware of my braless situation and crossed my arms over my chest, giving him my most vicious, 'I-would-stab-you-with-this-spoon-if-I-could' glare. In my defense, I would have still been wearing a bra, had it not been covered in demon juice from earlier. "My options for clothing here shouldn't be limited to booty shorts, or a tight leather ensemble that makes me look like a dominatrix. I want sweatpants. And stop smirking like that."

            He ate my anger up like it was cake, his smile broadening, until it became a wolfish grin. His fangs brought goose bumps down my arms. "Someone's a little hangry," he said silkily. 

            At that, Death pushed off the archway, and I tracked him with my eyes. He stalked to what I presumed was his seat at the opposite end of the table, picked up the empty wine glass next to his plate, and motioned toward the food. "Take as much as you want. Would you like some wine?"

            "I don't drink," I muttered perhaps a little too bitterly, focusing on the food as I scooping a little more mac and cheese onto my plate. In my defense, I was very confused as to what was going on. One moment, this man was cold as ice, and the next, he was ravishing me with an amazing meal?

            In my peripheral vision, Death was nearing closer and my heart. He reached past me for my wine glass. "You're nervous," he whispered at my ear in a taunting way. "Why?"

            Instead of denying it, I turned my head and forced myself to look him dead in the eye. He leaned back a little, but only marginally. "You've been a total asshole to me and suddenly you're decided to make me a buffet. What exactly is going on here?"

            "Why does everything I do have to have a secret motive?"

            "Because it always does."

            "True."

            "What is going on here?" I repeated waspishly.

            "Nothing at all." His enigmatic tone and the way he was tilting his head said otherwise. "Do you not want to eat?"

             "Of course I want to eat. I'm starving." I reached for the tongs to add Caesar salad to my plate and gestured with them as I spoke. "And if you decide I'm not allowed to, I will not be held responsible for my actions. You'd have to rip this plate from my cold, dead hands."

            I knew as soon as I'd said that I'd made yet another mistake with my threats. He'd probably think I was flirting. As if.

            His rose his pierced eyebrow, the one that had the scar slashed through it. "Now this is what I like to see from you. Fury instead of tears. Hatred is a much tougher driving force than a pout, don't you think?" He plucked a crouton off the table that I'd dropped and popped it into his mouth. "Don't let that hatred burn you too hard. You might find yourself undressing for me sooner than you thought."

            I had to focus extra hard on stacking my string beans on my dish to keep the flush creeping up my neck in check. Elbowing him in the hard muscled frame, I reached for the potatoes and got a dollop. "Get out of my way."

            "Rewr." Snickering, he slinked into the shadowy kitchen. By the time I was done serving myself, he'd returned holding both of our wine glasses in one gloved hand. He placed my glass down with a slow wink. With narrowed eyes, I tracked him again as he crammed as much food as possible onto two plates for himself, and then sat down across from me.

            This was fucking weird.

            Unbelievably aware of his presence, I poked at some mac and cheese and string beans and chewed quickly. The food was incredible, and I couldn't imagine. When I stole a look up at Death, he was obliviously shoveling a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

            Reluctantly, I took a sip of my wine and was amused to find it was grape juice.

            Death looked up at me, and seeing that I was smiling, his lips turned up. He sipped his–what I assumed to be–actual wine, to hide the amusement.

            "Is this all from the refectory?" I asked.

            "No," he said. "I cooked."

            I blinked a few times. "You cooked?" I wondered why he taken the time to cook for me. It was a burning question that I didn't have the guts to ask. "I can't picture you in a apron."

            He displayed a wide grin. "You learn a lot in two-thousand years. I have quite a few cook books memorized."

            "That's actually pretty awesome."

            "To you, maybe." He shrugged, plucked at a few champagne grapes and popped them into his mouth. "To me, it's a useless detail about myself. I barely have the pallet for human food anymore."

            I stared down at my plate. "What does this meal taste like to you?"

            His smile was almost sad. "To be honest with you, I can only really taste the salt in the potatoes and mac and cheese. It's the macros in the food that really benefits me, gives me some energy."

            "I had no idea it was that bad," I said sincerely. "That terrible..."

            "Incredible." He laughed humorously. "Even when you hate me, you're sympathetic. I've existed like this for a long, long, long time. I'm used to it, Faith."

            That doesn't mean you're happy about it. Despite the various reasons I had to dislike this man, the thought of him not being able to taste any of this food was incredibly sad. A new thought popped into my head and a strange feeling twirled in my body, fashioning a rollercoaster feeling in my stomach. He'd made the entire meal for me.

            I tucked a strand of hair behind of my ear. "I don't hate you." I probably never could.

            His eyes suddenly stared at me unflinchingly.

            My lips quirked up a little.

            "And thank you," I continued quickly, extinguishing the smile. I felt as though every ounce of my blood was now traveling to my face. "For the food, I mean. This is definitely the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

            "I'm glad." Right before my eyes, his mask as back up, and his expression turned a bit icy. "After dinner, I'd like for you to work on a meditation. Something I work on myself."

            "Sure–"

            "You need to be able to trigger your power at a moment's notice–" He paused and looked at me a long moment. Clearly he'd been expecting more of a fight. "Okay... Because I can't have you accidently lighting up my ass like a flame thrower if we're in a situation where we'd need to fight together."

            "I understand."

            He pursed his lips, frowned at my compliance. "Good..."

            "Great." I scooped up the last of my mac and cheese, tugging it slowly off of my fork with my teeth. I realized my mistake when his eyes tracked the movement like a hawk.

            "Are you flirting with me?"

            I couldn't help but giggle. "No."

            "You should save that stuff for the strip tease." I noticed his deep voice dropped a little huskier than usual

            Surely someone had splashed lava onto my face. Furious, I set down my fork down with a clatter. "I should have never made that deal with you."

          "Why, because you knew you were going to lose?" He arched that damn pierced brow again.

            "You're going to make a big thing out of this, aren't you?"

            "Hell yeah, I am." Death leaned forward on his elbows, those cynical mismatched eyes sparkling with entertainment. "It sounds like you're afraid to hold up your end of the deal," he purred out.

            He was right, I was. How the hell could I find the confidence to do something so intimate? "It was a stupid fight. And you­–you couldn't even handle kissing me the other night, let alone a strip tease!" I exploded, before I could stop myself.

            He titled his head, his jaw ticking. "Sore losers frequent failure, cupcake."

            "I am not a sore loser."

            "What are your thoughts on red lace? If I'm going to have your ass in my face, I think red would be the most thought-provoking."

            I stood up, nearly throwing my chair back. "Never again will I play by your kind's eye-for-an-eye rules! I'm sure as hell not taking my clothes off in front of you! You knocked me down in a petty way! You–you should be ashamed at how dumb it was!"

          "Mm, so touchy." Death lazily rose to his full towering height. "If it was so dumb, then let's have a rematch, and I'll knock you down according to your standards." A slow, enigmatic grin. I wanted to punch him in his perfect nose. "Just be prepared to face the additional consequences of my twofold victory." Death crossed the room in his slow, predator way. He leaned his gorgeous, pierced features close and stacked my empty plate on top of his. Breathing me in, he analyzed my features with those wicked eyes, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "A thrice victory would be devastating. To your virginity, I mean. I suffer terribly from too big cock syndrome."

            My mouth fell open.

            Death barked out laughter. "Priceless." He pivoted and sauntered back into the kitchen. "Follow me. It's time for your meditation. And sweatpants."

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SCREAM "CUPCAKE!" IF YOU WANT PART 2!!!!!

DON'T FORGET TO SHARE THIS STORY WITH YOUR FRIENDS! ;)

WHO'S EXCITED ABOUT THE PUBLISHED VERSION OF DIMBFF??????

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Where have I been????? I'M GLAD YOU ASKED. I've been writing for the PUBLISHED version of Death Is My BFF!! Since June of 2017 I've been rewriting Death Is My BFF (again) to be published! New scenes, new one-liners, and so many AWESOME new scenes with Death and Faith.  I'm in the early stages of editing, but have finished about 14 chapters already! I'm VERY excited about this, it's turning out so good!!!!! ;))))

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME DURING THIS PROCESS!!! MOMMA LOVES YOU!!!

* * *

JOIN THE FACEBOOK GROUP FOR DEATHY!!!

https://www.facebook.com/groups/308207282529485/

SHARE YOUR FAVORITE QUOTE FROM THE DEATH SERIES WITH ME ON TWITTER FOR A FOLLOW!!! My Twitter is "katrocks247" ;)