Idon’t know what woke me up. Usually, I did not fall into such a deep sleep, but it happened more and more since Vivien took up residence in my bed. I instinctively reached out for Vivien. Instead, my hand met empty sheets.
Sexually sated, I was more relaxed than I could remember being in my entire existence. Even my toes felt as though they’d pressed into the warm, black sands of Egypt.
Then something coiled around my chest and squeezed with malicious intent. The memory of Vivien’s expression when I’d mentioned I loved her returned to me. Abject terror flashed through her eyes, spearing me through without a sound. She trusted me with her body, her will, but not with her heart.
When I first said it, she seemed so eager, wishing to respond in kind. But she could not do so. Vivien claimed she needed space, and I could give it to her. Our blood bond would last.
We had the luxury of eternity, but endless time could also be agony, depending on how it’s spent. An agony of waiting, of always wanting more and never getting it. And though I owned her body, and she’d even given me her free will, I wanted Vivien’s heart.
Fuck that. I wanted all of her. And every moment I didn’t possess all of Vivien, a deep, keening anguish plagued me.
Something clattered from the direction of the kitchen, pulling me out of my mental spiral. I pulled on a pair of silk boxers and padded toward the sound.
Vivien was banging around. The smell of burnt sugar hung in the air, but a pan of fresh, uncharred cupcakes sat cooling on the counter. Cupcake sat, curled in a doggie bed between the living room and kitchen. Her golden eyes tracked Vivien’s manic movements. I stopped to ruffle the pup's ears. Not long ago, the idea of treating my reapers like common canines would have been preposterous. But Vivien proved to be a mighty force, and apparently all the reapers adored her affectionate nature. I couldn’t blame my envoys. I also found her attention positively addicting.
Vivien had on her favorite bright blue faux fur coat. She’d named it Cookie Monster and referred to it as if it were a close, personal friend. Under her jacket, she wore a black T-shirt with some punk rock band on it, and shorts that barely covered her cheeks.
I would have gone over and stolen a pinch of her luscious ass, but I knew better than to get in the way when she was in this mode. Several times, I’d seen her struck by rush of manic energy, and the few times I’d tried to calm her down ended up in physical violence, and some very rude name calling she apologized for in the aftermath.
Apparently, I wasn’t really a “controlling dumb-butt, cookie saboteur.” She had rained kisses on me, hoping to erase the memory of her outburst. But I’d learned my lesson and stayed out of the way rather than invoke her wrath.
Instead, I went to my espresso machine and started it up.
When I returned to sit at the countertop across from her with my demitasse, she’d moved onto icing one of the cupcakes. My trepidation melted away as I watched her. I never imagined life could be like this. I’d heard the phrase ‘domestic bliss’ but I’d never understood it until the last few months. There was no banality to our lives, but the certainty she would be in my bed every day, that I’d find the kitchen a sugary mess, and her cheeky smile gave me a new level of satisfaction I hadn’t known possible.
Though she knew I was there, she remained focused on her task. A bit of her pink tongue poked out as her forehead wrinkled in concentration. I fell a little more in love with her right there.
But something bothered her. I could feel it, and it took everything in me to not push. I had to wait and hope she’d tell me.
Finally, she paused her pastry decorating, shoulders dropping as she sighed. “He jumped off the roof of the Parisienne Hotel.”
“Who did?”
Still, she didn’t meet my eye. “The guy who duped me with the fake sword. After I found the Craigslist ad, I kept sending him messages that I wanted to buy it. But he never responded, so I went to Echo.”
Echo was an older, Samoan woman who also was an expert hacker. She used to help Vivien when she was a human bounty hunter. When I’d met Echo, I suspected her of being more than just human, but hadn’t mentioned that to Vivien.
Vivien picked up the frosted cupcake, pretending to examine it before setting it back down. “When I showed up at his apartment, he grabbed the sword and ran like hell.”
I turned my body toward her more, trying to gauge her reactions. “Then he jumped off a roof?”
She nodded, her emerald-green eyes lifting to meet mine finally. So much conflict and pain lay in them. “He was practically a kid. I chased him up to the top of the Parisienne. I tried to influence his mind to get him to step down from the ledge.”
Something kicked me in the gut. I knew how hard it must have been for her to do that. Freedom mattered to her almost more than anything, and she never used that power if she could help it. Even though she’d broken her own rule to save someone from themselves, I knew she hated herself for it.
She went on, her brow furrowing. “But then he broke my hold. Someone else already controlled him.”
I set down my cup and rolled my shoulders back. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, scooping up her perfectly iced cupcake, coming around the island to sit next to me. “He’d been worshiping a god.”
My alarm mounted. “Are you sure?”
Was that why she asked about what happened to the soul of a worshiper?
She placed the cupcake in front of her on the counter, studying the pink frosting. Or rather, she looked through it, her mind’s eye elsewhere. “Yeah. Some dickhead god is breaking all the rules. Taking worshippers, killing other gods, and they don’t care who gets hurt.”
I swiveled the stool until my legs were on the outside of her chair. Holding one of her hands in mine, I gently rotated her seat toward me. Still, she didn’t meet my eye.
