His lips tightened as if he were reluctant to tell me what was coming.
“Come on, Timmy,” I goaded. “Tell me what’s going on.”
While Timothy usually let things slip for either my benefit or his need to share, this time he was locked down tighter than a prison after a breakout.
“There will be a change of clothes laid out for you when you are done cleansing yourself. You will be meeting with…” He trailed off, as his face scrunched into an expression that I didn’t comprehend until after he’d left. As the elevator doors closed behind Timothy, he added, “Don’t forget to wash behind your ears.”
Fear. It had been fear that cut his explanation short. Timothy was afraid of whoever I was supposed to meet with. When I asked myself what a god was afraid of, the best answer I could come up with was a gigantic evil Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
After I showered, I found a white, flowing gown laid out on the bed. I balked at donning the beautiful feminine confection and the delicate golden sandals that went with it. Instead, I walked to the closet where I knew I could dig up something with a bit more sass. My confidence was on shaky ground, so slipping into something more my style would bolster me for whatever the hell was about to happen.
Was Grim going to make a show of killing me? Would he sacrifice me in the white gown to some volcano? Would he tear it from me and take me on some altar? Okay, that last one caused heat to spread across my cheeks and between my thighs. But I still didn’t want to be anywhere near him after tasting his blood.
When I opened the closet, I found it had been cleared out, leaving only a large sign and my combat boots at the bottom.
Dear Vivien,
Do not even think about it. Put on the gown.
Thank you kindly,
Jeeves
Touché, Timmy.I put on the dress, unable to help enjoying the soft texture of it slipping against my skin. I felt like a goddess in it, which was both empowering and gave me a bad case of imposter syndrome. I walked back out to the living room, but it was empty. Needing something to do with my hands, I French-braided my hair.
When Grim emerged from his room, he was only wearing a set of black slacks. His feet were bare, and his hard, sculpted torso was displayed for my viewing pleasure.Holy blood bags.I fought the drool that threatened to leak out the side of my mouth.
Dammit brain, did Jenkins pull that lever?The boys running my brain were totally getting a pay cut. But Grim’s body was a masterpiece from his wide, muscular shoulders to his tapered, washboard abs. He’d also showered, and his wet hair fell over his forehead though he tried to push it back, and his caramel skin glistened with moisture. And lord help a vampire, but the cut of his hips was positively sinful. It was the perfect trail for a finger, or maybe a tongue to trail along.
But layered into all this desire my body felt, urging me to attack and mount Grim in one go, was a different need. It left me weak and woozy. Before, I never detected what flowed through his veins, but now the liquid gold underneath his skin beckoned to me. I wanted to sink my fangs into him again and lose myself.
My hands shook until I closed them into fists. I was jonesing. Bad. Human blood had been one thing, but I could never allow myself to drink from Grim again.
The features of the god in front of me were made of stone, giving nothing away. I felt shy under his gaze, my stomach a squirming mess. So, I lifted my chin and stared back. Grim didn’t react, he didn’t even give me a onceover, which I found slightly offensive. After all, I looked like a damn angel over here. I would have made some crack or called him on it if there hadn’t been something in the air since we’d returned from the tunnels. It hung as heavy as sopping wet clothes on a line.
His eyes did touch my neck, then my feet. I’d wrapped the piece of leather around my neck again and skipped the sandals for the heeled combat boots.
I did my best to wrangle in my lust, desire, and hunger as distrust parted the air between us like the red sea. Drinking his blood had changed things between us on a basic, undeniable level. I wouldn’t allow my physical need for him to dictate my action.
“What am I now?” I asked.
When Grim finally met my gaze again, he said, “You paid the price for the boy’s soul.”
“You said you couldn’t reap my soul.”
“I didn’t reap it. I bound it.”
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer, only continued to regard me with his black stare, as if he were looking at a dead woman. But I was undead.
Despite Jenkins and the rest of the crew running the cogs of common sense in my brain, I walked forward until I was standing in front of him. I could do this. Be near him and control my every screaming urge.
My voice was low, dangerous. “Tell me. I won’t ask again.”
“We made a blood bond and now you belong to me.”
“Belong to you?” Then I remembered. Grim spoke of the ancient times where sekhors had been slaves to the gods. “You made me your slave?”
