Page 13 of Guarded By the Reaper

“Millie! Wake up!”

Grim’s voice, sharp and insistent, cut through the terror, yanking me back to reality. I sat up with a gasp, my heart pounding in my chest. Tears streamed down my face, and I angrily wiped at them with my sleeve.

“It’s okay,” Grim said, his voice soft. “You were dreaming.”

Dreaming. As if that made it any less real. As if the terror that clung to me like a second skin was merely a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination.

“I can’t... I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m so tired, Grim.”

He sat down next to me on the sofa. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just sat there. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“Maybe…” he started to say, his voice hesitant, then stopped, as if unsure of how to continue. “Maybe you need someone else, Millie. Someone who can actually protect you.”

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Someone who can fight the Poppets in the realm of dreams.”

“But you’re my bodyguard,” I said.

“I can keep you safe in this world,” he said, the words heavy with an emotion I couldn’t place. Regret? Frustration? “But your mind... your dreams... that’s a place I can’t reach. There are monsters who can, and we can talk to Norman about finding someone for you.”

“But you have to protect me,” I insisted, panic welling up in my chest, choking me. “You promised!”

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, which was a weird thing for someone who didn’t need to breathe. “There are limits to what I can do,” he said. “Some battles have to be fought from within.”

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

He shook his head, and for a horrifying second, I thought he was going to say this wasn’t working out and I needed to hire someone else.

“Never,” he growled, the word more of a rumble deep in his chest than actual speech.

And then, he did something completely unexpected. He pulled me towards him, his bony arms surprisingly strong as he wrapped me in a tight embrace. I stiffened at first, shocked by the sudden contact – the feel of his skeletal frame pressing against mine. And then, before I could protest or pull away, he draped his cloak over my shoulders.

I closed my eyes, my cheek brushing against the rough fabric of his cloak, my heart thudding against my ribs. As I inhaled his scent, a sense of calm washed over me, chasing away the remnants of the nightmare and the echoes of the Poppets’ whispers.

For the first time in days, I felt safe.

Chapter Seven

Grim

Her breath hitched, a tiny, shuddering sigh, and her head lolled against my chest. I thought about waking her. I really should have. This was getting ridiculous. But then I saw it – a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, chasing away the fear that had been clinging to her like a shroud. It was the first time I’d seen her smile since… Hell! Since I’d met her.

She was having a good dream. For once. I let her sleep.

I kept my arm around her, my hand resting lightly on her back, feeling the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her nightgown. I draped my cloak more securely around her shoulders, as if I could shield her from her nightmares, from the entire bloody world, with nothing but a few yards of enchanted fabric.

It was strange… being this close to her. To a living, breathing human. Feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the soft curve of her hip pressed against mine. It shouldn’t have affected me in this way. I was a Grim Reaper. A servant of Death. What did someone like me know about the warmth of a woman’s body?

I should have felt nothing. My kind didn’t do feelings. Not anymore. Not since…

Well, not since the war. World War One, to be more exact. Since the mustard gas had eaten away at my lungs, my skin, my humanity, leaving behind nothing but a husk of a man. A monster in a ruined temple of flesh.

Death had offered me a way out. A job. A purpose.

“Become one of mine,”they’d said, their voice a chorus of whispers and sighs.“Join my ranks. Shepherd the dead to their final destination.”

They hadn’t mentioned the part where they hollowed you out. No heart, no lungs, no blood. Nothing but magic and shadows holding me together. I was a walking, talking – well, mostly walking and growling – paradox. A creature of death who didn’t think he could ever feel the warmth of a living woman against his body and be aroused by it.

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