I poke my finger into his chest. “Yes, that’s a problem,” I snarl.
A small grin curls Grim’s lips. “You’re worried about me.” I can’t tell if he thinks it’s cute that I worry, or if it amuses him.
I glare at him, feeling defensive. “Of course I worry! No one gets to kill you but me.” It’s an empty threat. I would never hurt him, or Gunnar or Calix for that matter. That makes Grim give me another tiny grin.
“Don’t do that again,” I warn. “You should have taken us with you.” I cross my arms over my chest. A strange feeling of anxiety worms its way up my belly to lodge itself in the base of my throat.
Grim reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “He poses no danger to me, Omnia, only to what I love.”
“You can’t be certain. He may have some sort of trap for you too.” The image of Aeson held by a roughly drawn circle with runes etched inside fills my mind again. Hell, I was trapped in one too, even if it was for a short time. What if next time it’s different and we can’t escape it?
“You could have taken one of us.” Calix motions to himself and Gunnar.
Grim gives a single shoulder shrug. “You were both here with Dami,” he reasons, as if I needed both of them here to protect me.
I drag in a deep breath, hoping for patience. “Precisely why you could have taken us all with you. At the very least, you should have told me what you were doing. What if something had happened to you? We wouldn’t have even known where to start looking.” There’s a slight edge of hysteria working its way into my tone.
Grim’s brow furrows deeply as he reaches for me again, this time dragging me against his chest. I fight him at first, not liking just how much comfort I find in his embrace. “Okay,” he agrees, his voice pitched low. He’s holding me so close, I can feel his chin on the top of my head. I expect him to add more, but he doesn’t. That one, simple word of acquiescence is all he offers, but I believe him nonetheless.
I’m certain the idea of needing to keep me informed about his wellbeing is just as foreign to him as it is to me. I went from barely speaking to anyone for days on end to having three men around all the time, questioning what I’m doing, what I’m going to do, and if I need anything. It’s a little annoying, to be honest, so I appreciate him being agreeable.
Grim gives me a tight squeeze before releasing one arm and turning us so we’re facing Calix and Gunnar who have moved a few feet away.
“Tell us what you’ve learned,” Calix requests, focused on Grim.
“The ritual was performed in Savannah.” Grim’s fingers absently toy with the bottom of my hair.
“Georgia?” Gunnar looks off to the left, his eyes clouding. “There are a few covens out that way.”
“Are you familiar with them?” Calix questions, pushing up the sleeves of his green Henley.
“No, I’ve been on the West Coast for years, but I can make some calls. Anything more to go on?” The hostility in Gunnar’s voice has been replaced with interest.
“It was quick, like the troll who was found outside that club,” Grim answers.
“Which means what?” I trade glances with all three guys.
“The ritual we stopped was meant to last for days—”
“You mean the ritual that was going to kill my best friend?” I interrupt Gunnar.
He nods and continues, “Draining her powers slowly would have ensured they got more out of it. A quick kill would have given them power, yes, but not of the same magnitude.”
“So, do we think this is someone who escaped Vanessa’s coven?” I sneer her name. Even dead, that bitch pisses me off.
“Could be.” Grim untangles his fingers from my hair and trails them down my back. I soften against him.
“It might explain why you were alerted to this one and not any of the others,” Calix surmises.
Grim gives a small nod in response. “Or they were just in a hurry.”
“It’s strange that he was able to kill for years—if we believe Vanessa—undetected, but he’s suddenly slipping up now.” I shift my shoulder to hide the shiver I get when Grim’s fingers find a small piece of exposed skin on my lower back.
“It could still be him. He might be desperate at this point,” Gunnar suggests.
“Or he could just be cocky,” Calix adds.
“Probably both,” Gunnar sneers, pushing his hair away from his face. “I need to make a few calls.” He leaves without another word, stomping out of the parlor.
