“Where’s Death?” Gunnar asks a few seconds later.
“Somewhere out there.” Calix releases me with one arm but keeps the other around my back as he scans the crowd.
“What?” I search through the carnage. It’s hard to tell who’s fighting and who’s fucking at this point. It’s just a mass of limbs. I walk forward, forcing Calix to either come with me or release me.
Instead of looking with my eyes, I open my senses. Grim’s unique aura of death and power quickly reveals his location. He’s donned his robes with his scythe curved over his head. There’s a body at his feet and, as he takes a step forward, I notice the macabre trail of blood that blooms behind him.
I suck in a gasp. If he’s hurt, I will destroy everyone in this compound. My vision blurs until he’s all I see. “Where is all that blood coming from?” I take another step off the dais.
Calix grabs my shoulder. “It’s not his, Dami.”
A path clears for Grim, and silence follows in his wake. As he grows closer, I can see the dense fabric of his cloak is darker at the hem, soaked with blood. What the hell happened here?
“There’s a reason everyone fears Death, Damiana,” Calix whispers, then backs away from me.
Unconvinced Grim’s okay, I half run the rest of the way to him, lifting his hood back the moment my hands touch him. I need to see his face. His eyes are full of fire, no gray to be seen, and he’s pale, but the rest of him is perfectly fine. I reach out to touch his face, but he pulls away.
“Not yet, Omnia. I am Death.”
“Not to me you’re not. Besides, touching you would be worth the pain.” I trace my fingers over the porcelain skin of his jaw. He’s cold under my touch. “What happened?” I bounce my gaze between his eyes.
“That man made me very angry.”
“Who did?”
“You are a goddess, and he spoke to you as if you were nothing.”
I place my hand on his chest and feel the quick beat of his heart. “The angry dude? He was just talking shit, Loverboy. He didn’t hurt my feelings.”
“He died a thousand deaths, and he will die thousands more before I allow him to pass.” Grim’s posture is rigid.
“Whoa, okay. That’s a lot.”
He leans forward, and his voice becomes layered as if many people are speaking at once. “If I end them all, we will no longer have to be bothered by such nonsense.”
“Grim,” I say slowly. “You don’t need to do that. None of these people are going to hurt us.”
“I could end everyone.” Again, his voice is layered. I might finally be seeing why he inspires such fear. “If I kill them all, the witch will be dead, and we can go home. I like our home. It’s quiet there.”
Holy hell, he’s not just talking about everyone here, he’s talking about everybody, maybe even the entire world. “We can go home right now, Grim, just you and me. We can take a break from all the noise.”
The entire room is collectively holding its breath.
“Doesn’t that sound nice? I could check on Dare, make sure she has enough to eat. See if Aeson stopped by…” I’m trying to remind him that there are far more people in this world whom I want to save than I would like to see dead, even if one of them is the bastard witch.
“Yes, we can go home now. I will end them later.” His voice is his own, but cold and detached.
“Or… just a thought, we could not end the world. I mean, I haven’t even had cake yet. How will I get to try cake if there’s no one to bake it for me? I don’t trust Kitten’s cooking.” I place my hand by my mouth like I’m whispering. “He burns everything, and Calix eats all those vegetables.” I know I’m rambling, but I’m trying to bring him back to me.
I wave my hand. “We can figure that part out later. Let’s go home and let everyone else clean up this mess. You know I hate cleaning.” I wrap my arms around his body. He feels as hard as stone, but he embraces me back. I make eye contact with Calix and Gunnar, hoping my gaze tells them that everything is going to be okay.
I don’t even have time to blink before we’re standing in my kitchen. All the lights are off and the drapes are pulled closed. I let out a sigh of relief, but I don’t unwrap my arms from Grim. I do, however, lean back enough to look up at his face. “How about some hot cocoa, Loverboy?”
Grim looks around my darkened kitchen and his robe dissolves—I wonder if it will be cleaned of all the blood when he dons it again—leaving him in soft sleep pants, no shirt, and bare feet.
“I think I would like to lie down.” My stomach drops. That’s not what I was expecting. Grim admitted he doesn’t require sleep like the rest of us, though there have been a few times I would argue I’ve caught him sleeping, or resting for lack of a better word, but never for long.
“Okay.” I look toward the clock on the wall, noting the sun will be up soon. “We can do that,” I agree easily.
