Chapter 3
The Beast
When Miranda entered Grim's penthouse, she stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw me. Eyes narrowing, she looked back and forth between me and the god of the dead with accusation and wariness.
Fuck, the taste and feel of her mouth against mine still burned me like a ghost. I craved her so badly my fingertips itched.
Instead of the Blade of Banee being sheathed on her back this morning, it resided inside her duster. In skintight pants that rose up past her belly button and a crop top, both in army print—a nod to her past—she looked every bit the delicious little badass I remembered and more.
Gone were the suit jackets and façade of professional courtesy of a woman who worked for others. Her shit-kicker boots and leather duster only added to the visage of her fully embracing what she was. A warrior.
The god of the dead stood next to me in his pressed black suit, hands laced behind his back. “Hello Miranda,” he greeted formally.
The old boy was nervous.
Who knew even the Grim Reaper could be intimidated by a five-foot-four mortal with glowing brown skin and cat-like eyes that flashed with live fire? Maybe it’s because her tensed jaw promised death?
His, specifically. But I had no doubt I’d be next.
After spending thousands of years in my underground prison and grotto, Grim's modern and luxurious penthouse atop the Sinopolis hotel was a sight to behold. The decor featured sleek eggplant-colored couches, black marble, and state-of-the-art appliances—all of which showcased his wealth and moodiness.
Had I been amongst my brethren all these years, I supposed this might be how I would be living now too.
After years of living in a dark, damp place both physically and mentally, I had reached my limit. If I lived here, I'd ditch the gloomy hues and decorate with more bright pops of color.
But the only luxury, the only home I recognized or desired, stood twenty feet away from me, and was looking progressively stabbier.
Gods, the sight of Miranda made my body riot with desire, pride, and raw need. I wanted to wrap my hand in those long,thin velvet braids and toy with her until she punched me or fell apart in my hands. But mostly, my body vibrated with agitation, knowing I couldn’t have her.
Not yet anyway.
“What is this?” Miranda asked, her suspiciously slit eyes bouncing between Grim and me.
“Miranda,” Grim started, but paused when her scrutiny drilled into him. “I’ve decided you could use some assistance with your endeavors.”
Miranda arched an eyebrow. She wasn’t buying this. I didn’t expect her to, my clever girl.
Her shoulders rolled back as she regarded him coolly. “No.”
“No? No, what?” he asked, hands falling to his side.
“No, I will not be working with Xander.”
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. Nothing got by her.
“Sure you will, sweetheart,” I mocked. Those molten brown eyes turned to me, openly incensed.
That’s it my little badass, put all the energy here. The more you give me the anger, the more you’ll fall into my gravity until I’ve captured you entirely. The same way you’ve ensnared me.
“Xander,” Grim warned in a low voice before addressing Miranda again. “I know things have changed considerably?—”
“Are you talking about the part where I lost my job working here at Sinopolis?” she asked drolly. “Or the part where the entire immortal community holds me personally responsible for the biggest disaster since the bloodthirsty goddess Sekhmet went on a rampage turning mortals into vampires?”
“Miranda,” Grim sighed, taking a seat on one of the black leather chairs while pinching the bridge of his nose. “You answer to a higher calling,” Grim explained. “You were chosen by the fae to wield the Blade of Bane. This was always to be your fate. Isimply helped elongate the normalcy of your life for as long as I could.”
Neither Miranda nor I moved to sit, standing across from each other at either end of an invisible tether.
“I’m not a child. You don’t need to coddle me.” Her hand curved tightly around the blade’s hilt.
