Then in one motion, he pulled me to him as his lips pressed against mine. The kiss was scorching. Fire zinged through me. My insides turned into a shivering, hopeless, helpless mass. I wanted to lose myself in Grim and forget everything but the roughness of his unshaven jaw. I wanted his perfect, sexy hands on me everywhere. I was on the verge of exploding into a fiery inferno if I didn’t rip his clothes off and taste every last inch of his decadent, caramel skin. Then I’d drink his blood and fall backward into space as his lifeforce pumped through me again.
Despite the cacophony of needy, wanty desires, I managed to stay perfectly still under his skilled mouth. When he stepped back, breaking off the kiss, my chest tightened. I deserved a gold star sticker— screw that, I deserved a medal, a tiara, crown jewels for resisting that kiss. Yet somehow I managed.
“What was that for?” I said, proud my voice didn’t sound nearly as shaky as I thought it would.
“For luck,” Grim said. His eyes were the color of melted dark chocolate.
I’d gripped my fists so tight, my fingernails cut through my palms. The pain helped me not get swept up in his mystic power.
“I don’t need luck,” I managed to say in a scathing tone. He did not need to know he’d turned me into pudding and left a slick need between my thighs.
One of his eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. “Who said I was talking about you?” Grim stepped forward and gave the door a sharp, rhythmic rap.
I was confused, turned on, and terrified. What did he mean it wasn’t for me?
What could the god of death possibly need luck for? He was invulnerable. Right?
Grim rolled back his shoulders. He was nervous. I’d never known Grim to be nervous. Pissed off, sure. Annoyed, often, and by me. But nervous? Well, if he was nervous that meant I should be filling my panties with bricks.
The doors swung open, slowly, and without the help of anyone. Grim walked forward with measured steps and I did everything I could not to trip over my feet. Suddenly I wished I hadn’t worn the boots. They echoed loudly across the stone floor.
It was part palace, part oasis. Ornate golden columns framed old Egyptian pictures and hieroglyphics that adorned the walls with shades of browns, turquoise, and burnt oranges. We walked across a sandstone floor toward what appeared to be a raised dais under a gazebo. It reminded me of the throne I’d seen in Grim’s antechamber, but this was a hundred times grander.
There was no ceiling here, allowing the noonday sun to warm my skin. The throne platform was surrounded by sparkling waters that acted as a miniature moat filled with tall grasses and elegant stork-like birds.
Behind the throne, a wall shifted back and forth between another ornate mural and an open oasis that instilled peace simply by looking at it.
But you know what didn’t instill peace?
The dude sitting on the throne. He had icy blue skin, and enlarged, blueberry-colored eyes that lacked irises. A tall white hat that curled slightly at the top, matching his white pajama-like outfit. At first, I thought a glare was coming off his white clothes, but I soon realized the man was simply too hard to look directly at. He glowed and effervesced with a raw, awe-inspiring power that penetrated my bones. There was an alienness to him that sent prickles of alarm along the nape of my neck and down my spine.
He did not acknowledge our approach.
Admittedly, I wasn’t big into mythology, but I knew some of the basics from school. And there was no doubt who this big mamba jamba was. If the being beside me was Anubis, then the god across from us was Osiris.
When he blinked, I nearly peed myself and fell to the floor. I didn’t remember when Grim took me by the arm, but he was the only thing holding me up as my legs turned to liquid.
Those blue eyes trained on me, and everything in me stilled. It felt as though lasers were traversing from my head to my toes, scanning me for something.
When the god spoke it was like listening to a hundred different, individual voices at once. “You killed the master sekhor.”
“She did,” Grim confirmed, but stopped when Osiris raised a hand.
“Let her speak for herself.”
I suppressed a shiver of fear. Walking on eggshells was not my strong suit. Talking on eggshells, even less so.
“I did, you’re, uh, Highness.” With Grim it had been a taunt, but with Osiris, I meant it. In his presence, I was painfully aware of the meaningless worm I was. No, I was lower than that, the dirt a worm burrowed through.
Osiris tilted his head ever so slightly. Again, I was struck by his alienness. “And yet you are a master sekhor yourself.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. Grim had brought me before Osiris for judgement, I realized. Captain Hraf-haf had it right. I didn’t have to worry about being Grim’s slave, Osiris was going to stomp me out of existence.
Osiris’s attention shifted to Grim and relief swept through me as if I’d been released from some tractor beam holding me in place.
“And you bound her to you.” Again, the words were said with a removed curiosity.
“I did. She wanted me to save a boy, and agreed to the price,” Grim said.
