Anderson’s voice gentled as he closed the space between us, still keeping a respectful distance. “And do you remember the last time you actually read something, or noticed a specific time on a clock? Did your phone stop working when it shouldn’t have?”
I chewed lightly on my lower lip, uncertainty creeping in. “Y-yeah. My phone died this morning and I’m sure I charged it. Like I’msureI charged it. And the last things I remembered reading were the sign in the bodega and the name of your company, on the front of the building.” I rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the carpet while my brain spun its wheels. It was impossible, right?
“The downside of diverting souls is that you skip the intake process, the explanations and careful acclimations of new death. I’m sorry for that, I can imagine it’s very disorienting, and I wish there was an easier way, I really do. Unfortunately, it’s necessary in cases like yours.” Anderson gingerly sat on the couch beside me, his nearby warmth a welcome anchor for my unmoored mind. “But I’m here. I’m going to help you navigatethis, because your skills are priceless. You’re an Argus, and I need you.”
I turned, frowning at him, more angry at the situation than at him, but without a convenient target to take it out on. “And what the hell does thatmean? I heard the guy in the hall say that too. Am I like some fancy breed of horse or something?” I sounded downright petulant, but I waspissed. I couldn’t be dead, I had shit to do. Shoes to buy. Bills to pay. Houseplants to water.
“Your bloodline has a specific gift for helping us store and sort life-thread cords appropriately, you can see a celestial order where we see only immediate tasks.” He pointed at each of the filing cabinets, left to right. “Cameron handles new life, Lawson handles lifespan, and I handle…the rest.” He smiled, a profound sadness in his eyes that sent a pang through my heart.
My memory flashed with the bright pink glow, and the golden one, and then the quiet dignity of the gray that emanated from Anderson’s eyes. My boss was, effectively, death, and that was one hell of a job title to shoulder. I lowered my voice to a whisper, the inevitable question uncomfortably direct. “So you kill people? Does that mean you can bring them back?”
He closed his eyes, pain tightening his mouth before it softened into a defeated smile. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Milo. I know why you need to ask, but I hope you also know why I have to say no.”
I nodded, tangling my fingers with one another between my knees as the weight of my death, and my new situation, really settled into place. For some reason, Anderson’s directness tamped down the hysteria that would normally froth up in a situation like this. I knew in the marrow of my bones, if those even still existed, that he was telling me the truth.
“So I…belong to you?” The moment the words tripped off my tongue, I winced internally. I sounded like an angsty boyfriend, not an employee, and if my unexpected new gig spared me from the finality of death, I needed to get my shit straight. Well, maybe notstraight. I wasn’t great at feigning that, if junior prom had been any indication.
Anderson chuckled, breaking the aching tension of the news. He turned his wrist to me, and my inner forearm slut made an unholy sound in my throat that I tried to cover with a cough. Two thick fingers drew up a very expensive-looking watch wristband to reveal two braided cords wrapped around his wrist like bracelets. One was a solid gray, the exact hue of his filing cabinet, but the other flickered between every shade of gray I could imagine, interspersed with moving, glittering orbs that sleepily blinked like eyes.
“Not exactly. We’re connected, to put it simply. This is my cord, because even beings of my caliber have one. But this one—” His index finger delicately stroked across the width of the color-changing band, and euphoria swirled through my body, making me gasp. “—is yours. You were always fated to be my assistant, Milo. I’ve been patiently waiting for you since my brother Cameron first drew your cord 25 years ago.”
He stroked his thumb across the glittering braid with a fond look, practically murmuring. “I’ve worn it every day since, because I knew I’d never have to cut it. And now here you are, with me, where you belong.”
I tentatively reached out and touched his offered wrist, fingers dancing away from my cord to trace the edges ofhis, smiling when his eyes closed in bliss. “Only yourassistant, Anderson? Then why did I hear the man in the hall call me acompanion? You haven’t lied to me yet, so don’t start now.”
Anderson’s eyes flew open,glowing bright gray, expression naked with guilt. “It’s…it’s just another word for assistant, that’s all. I need your gifts. That is,weneed your gifts. For the filing.”
“Then why does it feel so good when you touch my cord?” Grasping his wrist boldly in one hand, I drew the tip of my index finger, slowly and deliberately, across the band ofhiscord, holding the most intense eye contact I had in my entire socially-anxious life.
I was delighted when his back bowed slightly off the couch, eyelids fluttering. “Fuck. Milo, ohh, don’t do that. Gods, please. I can’t…”
I slid my finger gingerly under his cord, careful to avoid tension, and gently rubbed the silken braid between my thumb and forefinger in tiny circles. His breath stuttered on a moan, free hand grasping a clawed handful of the plush leather armrest. “You didn’t answer me,Sir.”
“It’s…ung, like that…it’s because we are…fuck, do that again…companions…” His jaw worked, his hips restlessly shifting. Uncurling his fingers from the couch arm, he reached across his lap and plucked at my cord with a cascade of fingers, as if it were a guitar string. Pleasure tumbled aggressively through my body and I abruptly released his cord before I snapped it by mistake, halfway to a spontaneous orgasm.CouldI snap it by mistake? I didn’t want to find out.
We both dropped our heads against the back of the couch, panting lightly. I glanced at him in my periphery, raising a brow. “So thatdoesmean something. I’m more than yourassistant, aren’t I?”
Anderson chuckled breathlessly. “Companion or not, I’m not allowed to influence you, Milo. I already diverted your soul, and the power dynamics with that are…complicated…as it is. Your only official task is to assist my brothers and I with filing. Nothing else is expected or asked of you, and I will not take advantage of you, I give you my word on that.”
I’d always been a practical person in life, and while flirting with a guy—being?—like Anderson was undeniably fun, I wasn’t about to spend my eternity playing coy. If I had to be dead, I was damn well going to eat dessert first, and Anderson lookedpositively mouth-watering. I traced the luxe fabric stretched over his thigh with the back of my nails, light as a feather. “But what if Iaskedyou to take advantage of me, Sir?”
I slid from the couch, matter-of-factly settling on my knees between his own, grateful for the plush carpet I intended to know intimately. I looked up through my lashes at him, admiring the heat in the glowing gray I found there as my palms rested on his knees. “What if Ibeggedyou to?”
I’d never watched a man’s resolve actively crumble before, least of all overme, but it was an absolute work of art. His right hand rose to cup my cheek, both cords on his wrist brushing my jawline, tone deceptively tender as he stared down at me. “Then I’d absolutely ruin you, mymoirai. Now come here so I can savor the taste of my destiny.”
His fingers moved to wrap the back of my neck, sinking into my hair and pulling me up into his lap as I rose, sinking my knees into the butter-soft leather on either side of his hips. His free arm snaked around my waist, locking me in place against him as our lips crashed together, his kiss full of decades’ worth of demand. Hungry and seeking, his tongue opened my mouth and found my own, devouring me slowly until my hips rocked of their own accord. Tugging up my dress shirt like it was an offense, his hot, bare palm found my lower back, fingertips curling against me to keep me close.
Rising like I weighed absolutely nothing, Anderson cradled me against his body and lowered us to the floor, careful to lay my head down gently on the carpet. I grinned against his mouth, wondering at the tenderness—I was dead already, what more could he possibly do to me?A lot, my libido whispered hopefully.
As he broke off the kiss to mouth at the side of my neck, he grasped my belt buckle with purpose, opening the catch with an effortless flick of his fingers. I whined with need, arching my body into his touch and digging at the carpet with the heel of one ill-fitting shoe as I babbled. “Anderson…please…please…”
His voice rumbled in my ear, making the hair on my nape, just below his grasping fist, prickle pleasantly. “Mm-there’s that begging you promised me. Good boy.” With a sharp tug, my belt flew out of my belt loops into his fist, then casually over his shoulder.
I reached down to fumble with the button on my pants, which earned me a growl and that overwhelming feeling of foreboding at the edges of my consciousness. “Hands off. I haven’t waited all these years to be denied the pleasure of undressing you.”
I sank my fingers into the carpet beside my hips with a pleased sigh. “Yes, Sir.”
Anderson grinned down at me, his eyes practically feral as he took his time undoing each of my shirt buttons, pausing to kiss the skin his work uncovered. “I waited. I didn’t peek at your folder, even though I wanted to a thousand times. A million times. It was torture, but it was worth it.”