Page 18 of The Grim, Me, and The Reaper Makes Three

“Of course.”

“What is the name of the region where you live?” She hadn’t wanted to ask, but when concepts likeforeverandeternitywere at play, she realized that she had nothing to lose. Nothing but the threat of regret hanging over her, oppressive and stifling, forever.

William’s face crumpled, devastation clearly written across every feature. “Fuck, Tink,” he began, shaking his head. “Our spot…it is nowhere. We live in the inbetween, for the job, you know.”

“Oh,” she said, releasing the pained laugh that burned her throat. “Of course you do.”

“Tati, please,” William’s voice had taken on a pleading edge, but it was all too much.

She turned away, unable to look at him. “So I just go to the desk, then?”

“Tati —”

She tried to plaster a smile onto her face as she approached the smartly dressed man with a phone headset. “Hi! I’m in need of a consultant.”

7

ATTICUS

Atticus paced.

He directed his attention to carefully rolling through each of his toes with every step that he took, noting the soft tickle of the rug against his bare feet.

It was futile, really, a worthless attempt at distraction, when, in reality, he was the eye of the storm. Everywhere he looked was a harsh truth that needed confronting, swirling around him, taunting him, holding a mirror up to his cowardice.

Sharing a lover with William was nothing new. Sharing a woman, even, was routine for them. But every past exchange had very clearly been transactional. Everyone benefited from the encounter, everyone was given orgasms that left their legs shaking, and then they were gone. It was an unspoken understanding that had worked seamlessly for the past century.

But this woman. Tatiana. Her name rolled off of the tongue like mead, a heady sweetness that warmed his body from the inside out. And fuck, she had been sweet. She walked into their dynamic with open eyes and participated without hesitation. Every time he had looked in her eyes he’d seen desire and trust — a heady combination for a man like him.

But it was not his response to her that had him pacing like a caged animal.

No, it was William’s.

His William, his pup, hiseverything. Atticus tore a hand through his rumpled hair, the flash of pain as he tugged at the roots serving to ground him for a brief, blissful second.

That morning, in their austere and lifeless kitchen, watching Tatiana make thempie, of all things, William had looked deeply, blissfully, at peace. Atticus saw the way that he watched the woman, the way that his eyes lingered on her bosom, the way that his smile softened when she spoke. He had looked content in a way that Atticus was not sure he’d ever seen.

He shook his head. All that he wanted was William’s happiness, and yet… And yet. Seeing another person elicit that response from his lover had unsettled something. It wasn’t jealousy – no, one didn’t make it hundreds of years into companionship plagued by something so basic – but it was still a feeling that stung. It shed light on the fears that he’d harbored, that he might not be enough for William. That, once it was just the two of them, with the work and obligations stripped away, he would come up short.

The air before him rippled, and Atticus didn’t have time to brace himself before William appeared, his face wild and twisted with rage, and shoved him in the chest.

Atticus stumbled back, quickly righting himself and lifting his hands to defend himself. He might be taller, but William was stronger, his muscles flexing as he advanced toward him.

“William,” Atticus growled, a clear warning in his tone.

William shook his head. “What in thefuckis wrong with you?” His voice was an unrestrained rumble, more canine than man, and his eyes flashed yellow.

Atticus tried a different approach. Extending a hand, he softened his voice. “Love,” he began.

“No, Atticus.” William’s whole body shook with anger. “She wanted this. She wantedus, and you sent her away.”

Fuck, he wished it was that simple. “You heard her, love! She has a dream that she can realize here. A chance to do what she could not while alive.”

Some of the anger faded, and Atticus could see the full weight of William’s devastation in the red rimming his eyes and his downturned mouth. “Do you know what she asked me? At headquarters?”

Atticus shook his head, knowing full well that whatever it was was going to wreck him. He knew it in his soul.

William wiped a hand over his mouth. “She asked me where we lived. What region we were in.”

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