Chapter 7
The Beast
The daytime passed in a torturous crawl, every second a burning needle piercing my sanity. I was practically vibrating with anxious energy as I paced the opulent lobby of Sinopolis for two hours before Miranda even showed up.
The clack of polished shoes against the smooth marble floor grated against my eardrums, a constant reminder of the passing time. More than once, someone bumped into me, not bothering to look up from the little glowing phone in their hands. People were more like zombies now.
The bright lights overhead seemed to buzz loudly in my ears, creating a sense of disorientation and unease. Desperate for some relief, I had resorted to wearing sunglasses even indoors, hoping they would offer some reprieve from the harsh lighting.
Growing more agitated with each minute that ticked by, I started to fear I’d neared a snapping point.
Which is why it was absolutely the fucking worst when a primly dressed Timothy clipped his way directly toward me in expensive shoes and a lush verdant green suit. Per usual there wasn’t a hair out of place framing his Asian features that were arranged into a cool mask of control. Grim’s second-in-command had a strong distaste for me, always barely tolerating my existence. I didn’t care for his neat freak routine either.
“To what do I owe the pleasure Thothy-pie.” I bared my teeth at my fellow immortal, belying the levity of my words. I bastardized his ancient name, Thoth, just to see his jaw tick.
His back stiffened. “I heard Grim has aligned you with Miranda in her pursuits. No doubt a situation you manipulated to get close to her again.”
I rolled my eyes and sneered. “Come to warn me away from her again?”
Because now that I’d gotten a taste of her, I couldn’t let go. Iwouldn’tlet go. I’d spend the rest of eternity trying to claw my way back into her heart.
Timothy regarded me with a gaze that cooled the temperature around us by several degrees. “I suppose my wisdom would be lost on you then?”
“It’s called an opinion, and they are like assholes. Everyone has one and they all stink.”
Timothy visibly recoiled at my crudeness. I deliberately laid it on thick to offend his sensibilities. I knew I wasn’t good enough for Miranda, but I didn’t need Timothy rubbing that in my face.
“Fine.” He held up a hand. “You don’t need my opinion, but how about a few facts?” Before I could stop him, he barreled forward. “Miranda is mortal and you are not. How do you think this ends, Xander?”
Despite all the hot tension pulsating in my body, I coolly observed my nails and replied, “With us living happily ever after.”
“You’ll stay with her until she grows old and gray and crosses over to the afterlife?”
My stomach churned.
“If need be,” I said, though truthfully I hadn’t considered the future..
Timothy sighed, his shoulders dropping several inches. “I know you think I am your adversary, but we aren’t so different.” We mutually sized each other up, him in his perfect suit and controlled lifestyle and me in my loud Hawaiian shirt, messy hair overdue for a cut, and raging mental instability.
Still, he went on, his voice lowering. “You don’t know the pain of loving someone so hard you’d turn yourself inside out, only to blink and find they are gone with an eternity stretched out before you, absent of their lifeforce.”
The scowl remained on my face even as I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to give Timothy any space in my brain, but I could already feel his words burrowing into my neurons like tiny mites that would eat away at me.
Even the thought of an existence without Miranda’s lifeforce in it made my skin crawl and acid rise up my throat. It would be unbearable.
“Why do you hate me so fucking much?” I rasped, my fists tightening into balls.
Timothy’s expression softened, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Don’t you see, Nun?” he asked, using my old name, causing a spark to ignite in me. A hand fell to my shoulder,imprinting a level of sincerity I’d never experienced from him before. “I don’t hate you at all. I am still trying to protect my friend and you from yourselves before it’s too late.” Timothy’s eyes flickered over my shoulder.
I knew without looking that he’d spared a glance at the man who worked at the coffee stand. The mortal with the beach boy looks and the damaged voice box.
The one Timothy yearned to be with.
The sincerity in his voice made me all the angrier. Though whether I was angry because he kept trying to interfere or because he had a point was unclear.
I shrugged his hand off and stalked away from him, wanting to put as much distance between me and Timothy’s words as possible.
Yet they clung to me, like a sticky patina. Even long after the god had left, the words sunk into my pores infecting me with ideas that combated the feelings I had for Miranda.
