Page 10 of Guarded By the Reaper

High-pitched, blood-curdling, laced with terror.

Millie.

I didn’t waste time with doors or stairs. They were human constructs, after all, and I hadn’t been human in a long, long time. I teleported. One moment I was standing in the living room, and the next, I was in her bedroom.

It was dark, the only light coming from a sliver of moon peeking through a gap in the heavy curtains. And then I saw her. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with terror, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Her hair, normally so sleek and smooth, was a tangled mess around her shoulders. Her face, usually pale, was now ashen, beads of sweat clinging to her upper lip.

“Millie! What is it? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even seem to see me. Her gaze was fixed on a point just beyond my shoulder, her entire body trembling as if a current of electricity was surging through her veins. Her lips moved, but no sound came out, just a silent scream that tore at something deep inside me.

“Millie,” I whispered, taking a step closer, my boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. It was strange, really, how a creature like me could feel so protective of this human. But there was something about her, something in the way her eyes held a flicker of defiance even in the face of terror, that stirred something primal within my non-existent gut.

She finally seemed to see me. Her gaze darted to mine, those big blue eyes widening even further, reflecting the moonlight like a pair of sapphires. Then, recognition flickered across her face, chasing away some of the terror.

“Grim?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She tried to sit up straighter, to smooth down her hair, but her hand trembled so violently that she only succeeded in making herself look more vulnerable.

“Easy there,” I said, holding up a hand even though a part of me – a part I hadn’t known existed until this very moment – wanted to scoop her up in my arms, shield her from whatever horror had wormed its way into her dreams. “You’re safe now.”

Safe with me. The Grim Reaper. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. It was a worthy effort, but the fear was still there.

“I need…” she started to say, her voice shaky, then stopped, her gaze darting to the bathroom door.

She tried to stand, to push back the covers and swing those long, lean legs over the side of the bed, but her knees buckled, and she would’ve face-planted on the floor if I hadn’t moved with the unnatural speed of a creature who was definitely not human. I caught her just in time, her small frame colliding with mine.

“Whoa there,” I said. “Seems like the nightmare you just had left you a little unsteady.” I held her at arm’s length for a second, just long enough to make sure she wasn’t about to keel over again.

Her skin was even paler than usual, almost translucent in the moonlight filtering through the window, and those big blue eyes stared up at me with gratitude. And it struck me, not for the first time tonight, just how small she was. Delicate. Like one of those fancy China dolls wealthy families like hers kept in glass cases – the kind you weren’t supposed to touch. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her nightdress. The urge to pull her closer, to feel the beat of her heart against my empty chest was overwhelming for a second. I resisted it. Barely.

“What was the nightmare about?” I asked, my voice rougher than usual.

“It felt so real,” she whispered, her gaze darting around the room. “I was being chased by those things.”

Those things. Of course. The Poppets. “And they caught you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” she breathed. She hugged herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection, as if trying to hold herself together. “One of them caught me. It bit me with its straw teeth.”

I cursed under my breath. So much for the protective barrier around the house. It seemed Ma-Vasha’s pets had found a way in, after all. Into her mind, at least. I’d dealt with my fair share of nightmares in my time, but these were different. These were woven from the stuff of ancient magic, fueled by the raw power of a creature that could swallow souls whole.

“Where did it bite you?” I asked, my gaze sweeping over her.

She lifted her left arm, her fingers tracing a path along her forearm as if following the ghost of a touch. “Here,” she whispered. “And here.”

I stepped closer and peered down at her arm. Two puncture marks marred her smooth, pale skin – tiny pinpricks ringed with angry red.

“The dreams are real, Millie,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady. Those damned Poppets! They couldn’t breach the perimeter of love and light that surrounded the house, not yet, but they could slip through the cracks of her mind, could worm their way into her dreams and leave their mark.

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“They can get inside your dreams.” I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed – her bed – careful not to crowd her. It was a strange sensation, being this close to a living, breathing human, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin, the subtle scent of lavender and something else… something uniquely her. It was both intoxicating and terrifying. “They can touch you. Hurt you. Has this happened before?”

She shuddered, nodding. “Yes.” She tugged at the hem of her nightdress. “A couple of times. I thought I was just imagining things.” Her fingers tightened on the thin fabric, bunching it up around her thighs. “See?”

It was like a goddamn ambush! That simple movement, the flash of pale skin in the moonlight. Every fiber of my being went on high alert. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening, crackling with something that smelled a hell of a lot like lust. It had been a century – a goddamn century! – since I’d felt anything remotely like this.

I quickly averted my gaze, focusing on a crack in the wall, a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, anything to keep from staring at her like a starving man at a banquet. But it was too late. I’d seen them. The bite marks on her thighs, just above the edge of that ridiculous nightdress.

---