Page 152 of Grim
“Oh, yeah?” I huff. “How do you figure?”
“Ousting me elevated you. All of this in exchange for my eternal darkness.” She gestures to the room around us, eyeing me up and down to punctuate her point.
“I didn’t ask you to help me.”
“I wanted to.”
“Yeah, well, I never wanted you to leave.” The traitorous crack in my voice betrays my hard exterior.
“It had to be. It was the only way.”
“You sound like your sister,” I grumble.
Her upper lip curls. “And you sound like a different man from the one I used to share the moonlight with.”
“Enough talking,” I demand.
“Why?” She looks at me, dumbfounded.
“Because I don’t have the words for this.”
I take her in with one long breath, and the inhale burns. My hand lifts as I wrap it firmly in her auburn tresses.
She gasps at the firmness of my grip.
There is a moment of stillness you could fill with a galaxy. Her sapphire eyes glint, the spark shoots straight into the center of me. Zap.
I desperately pull her to me, and our mouths crash roughly, like thunder before the rain. It’s a kiss full of promise, longing, and all the what-ifs, colliding in the press of lips and teeth and breath. It’s a kiss hundreds of years in the making and one I wish would last that long to make up for all the time we lost. Her body flush to mine, I bring my other hand to her lower waist. If I squeeze just a little tighter, I am quite sure I can fuse her to me. Press her soul into mine and keep her there forever.
I run my tongue along her lips, and she whimpers against my mouth. It undoes me.
She molds to me like she never left. Like no time passed.
Her hands are on my chest, her nails dragging down me like she wants to mark me. Fuck, I want her to. I want—no, I need her to leave marks, scars to prove she was here. That I’m not passed out on that fucking flamingo, dreaming.
Her lips part, and I take full advantage, tongue sweeping into her space. Her moan is soft, broken, and carnal.
My knees nearly give out.
I tighten my grip on her waist, in her hair, like I can keep her if I don’t let go. If I just keep her here, everything else can wait. Collapsing systems. Angry Sisters. Depressed reapers. Let it all burn.
This is the moment I’ve been starved for. A taste of what we lost.
The ground trembles beneath us, a low rumble that vibrates through the tiles and into my bones. I know what it means. I know what this costs. Us together like this—touching, tasting, feeling—it’s a threat to the order. To the balance.
To everything.
Then so fucking be it.
But even as I think this, I know better. I know better than to chase what I can’t keep.
This, whatever this is between us, is as strong a force as a natural disaster. As dangerous too. The thought has me pulling away from the kiss. The action is a lie. I could stay there for a thousand moons. But instead, I break it off quickly, both of us panting for air.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat, “tell me your plan, and I will take it under advisement.”
Mercy’s face stretches into a giddy grin. The strings begin in on Mozart, and Mercy steps closer to whisper her plan into my ear. When she finishes, she bites playfully on my lobe, sending shivers running not just throughout my body, but the entire room.
“You’re in charge,” she says, looking me in the eye. “No one else tells you how to do this job. It’s your name on the gilded nameplate. Make it your own.”
