“How did you even get this up here?” I run my hand over the ebony wood of the bed, admiring the intricate carvings that travel all the way up the posts and onto the canopy.
Grim kisses my shoulder softly, and I wiggle a little to get even closer to him. “I’ve blinked you and the Nemean, and you wonder how I moved a bed?” He blows his heated breath over my skin. I can hear the small smile on his lips.
I push my elbow back at him. “I didn’t know you could carry furniture.”
“It’s just wood and a little metal, much simpler than another being.”
Heavy footfalls on the stairs alert me that someone is coming. If it’s Kitten, there will probably be stomping and a lot of shouting soon. I settle my head against the pillow.
Calix is breathing hard when he enters the doorway, his shoulders slumped forward and a dejected frown on his face. I’d forgotten Grim told him to come find us when he was done with his calls. I look over my shoulder to see Grim’s reaction, but his expression is placid.
Calix bounces his eyes around the room, taking in the mostly empty space. “Of course you would have a creepy bed.” He slides his hands into his pockets, not even acknowledging that we’re in the bed and naked, but his eyes keep darting back to me.
“It’s not creepy,” I retort, defending the beautiful piece of furniture. Calix tilts his chin down and raises an eyebrow. “It’s not!”
“It looks like something you’d find in the dungeon of a convent. So, do we all get our own rooms?” Calix asks too casually.
Here they go, changing shit again. “I guess so, if you want your own room.” I’m scowling, but I really shouldn’t complain. The house is big enough for everyone to have their own space. If they each have their own room, does that mean we would all sleep separately?
Calix takes a few more steps into the attic, his eyes traveling over the wooden ceiling and exposed beams. I’ve only been up here a handful of times, but the space is nice. If I had to pick a room for Grim, this would be the one. It’s somehow airy, even though the windows are tiny, and the ceilings are pitched at sharp angles. There are a few old boxes shoved over in one corner, and a thin coating of dust lingers on most of the surfaces, but it’s still inviting.
Calix gives an indifferent shrug. “Might be nice to have something like this, a place where we could be alone. Not that I mind an audience.” He gives me a lascivious grin. Having a private room for alone time might be nice, I’m sure Kitten would appreciate it.
Grim strokes his finger over my side, drawing Calix’s gaze. “Did you learn anything from your call?” I focus to keep my voice level. I should get a reward for the effort. Grim touching me while Calix watches has my blood pumping again.
“Not really.” Calix’s eyes track the movement of Grim’s hand, and his body goes unnaturally still. The image of him pouncing on us fills my mind. I wonder what Grim would do.
A bellow from downstairs has me blinking rapidly. Gunnar must be looking for us. Calix curses under his breath and pushes his light hair off of his forehead with jerky movements.
“Damiana?” Gunnar shouts again, this time from much closer.
“I’ll be right there,” I answer, sitting up a little reluctantly. I have to admit I’m a little disappointed. Gunnar isn’t exactly a killjoy, but in this situation he’s definitely a cockblocker. Not that I’m convinced anything would have happened between the three of us, but itmighthave.
“I’ll head down, take your time.” Calix lets his eyes roam over my body again before he turns and heads out of the room. The bed shifts, and I glance over my shoulder to see Grim sitting up and stretching. I take the opportunity to admire the perfection of his body, and I let out a small sigh of appreciation. Grim turns and peers at me from under lazy eyelids. The gray of his irises is pierced with tiny smoldering rivers of fire as he watches my every move.
When our gazes lock, tingles erupt in my stomach. He gives me fucking butterflies. I always thought that was a joke, or an over exaggeration, but now I know the truth. Grim’s eyes lower to my stomach where I hadn’t even realized I placed my hand. “Are you well?” His brow furrows, and he turns to fully face me.
Licking my dry lips, I nod dismissively. It’s hard to admit out loud just how much I like having them all here with me. I still get those moments of insecurity when I think they will just disappear and leave me alone with just my monsters again. “Yeah, fine.” My voice is a little thick, but I stand up and turn away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice. I look around for something to wear, since my clothes are still on the floor downstairs.
I feel Grim’s presence as he approaches from behind. The brush of fabric against my skin reminds me that his room is the last place I might find a spare shirt. His arms wrap around me and settle on the exact spot my hand was just moments ago, telling me he isn’t fooled by my airy answer. His fingers are light, caressing. I turn and look up at him. His eyes have settled to a clear gray, but his brow is slightly furrowed. I palm his cheek, feeling the very light scruff on his jaw tickle the inside of my hand. When his face softens, I give him a small kiss on his chin and ask, “Think you could conjure me up some clothes too?”
Before I can even blink, light silky fabric teases the skin of my shoulders and back. Looking down, I see a robe, much like the one Grim wears, only it has a deep V in the front exposing my décolletage all the way down between my breasts. I shift my leg to find it split up the middle equally as high, with only a scrap of fabric keeping it together at my waist. I trace my hands over the light-as-air material that swishes around me as if it’s floating on some unseen breeze.
“No wonder you didn’t wear anything under this.” I marvel at the way it feels against my skin. Grim takes a step back, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. I feel the fabric shift slightly as his stare roams over me, like the material is responding to his gaze.
When the fabric caresses my nipples, I’m convinced I’m not imagining it. My mouth drops open in awe. It feels as if Grim is touching me, even though I know he isn’t.
“How is that possible?” I marvel.
Grim reaches out and pinches the fabric of the oversized sleeve between his fingers, testing it. “It’s part of me.” He gives a slight shrug, dropping his hand back to his side. “From my cloak.” In the next moment, he’s standing before me donned in his own reaper cloak. It ruffles near the bottom on the same unseen breeze. His hood is up, concealing his face, much like the first time he allowed me to see him.
I fist the fabric as it pools over my hand, knowing I don’t want it to disappear the way his does. “This is mine?” I mean for it to come out as a question, but it sounds more like a greedy demand.
“If you’ll have it,” Grim offers in that multilayered voice I’ve only heard from him a few times. He makes a striking picture, even more so when his scythe appears next to him. Tingles explode in my tummy again. As beautiful as Grim is, seeing him like this—the monster so many fear—and knowing he’s all mine sends a shiver of delight through me.
I swallow and nod, incapable of speech, because all I can think is the word ‘mine,’and I’m not just talking about the robe.
Grim reaches out, the cloak falling away from his hand, and cups my cheek. I turn into his touch. It still surprises me how quickly I grew comfortable with all the casual touches, so much so that I crave them now.
