“Fuck,” I choked out when she came, my soul seizing the pleasure that radiated through hers, my spirit swallowing her orgasm down whole, blissing out on it—and her. Right before, as I’d done the last time, sending the wave of ecstasy that came with my own release straight back into her. Brutalizing her all over again while she shrieked a second time.
Because I wasn’t just a monster. I washermonster.
And I wasn’t about to let her ever forget.
Our pleasure blurred together, the fallout prolonged, our climaxes trading echoes.
She shook against the tomb, demolished. Just the way I wanted her.
My shadows gathered her up, returning her to my arms.
I cradled her close.
Helena, knocked half unconscious again by the soul fucking I was seriously addicted to, slung one of her own arms around my shoulders.
“Grim, I love you,” she managed, murmuring the words into my ribs.
I clutched her tight. Ripped to shreds.
Because… I fucking loved her, too.
43HELENA
I didn’t remember the car ride home. I just knew Grim was there. That, after securing my clothing back in place, he put me in The Judge.
Draped my coat over me.
Buckled my seat belt.
And knowing he was with me was enough to ease my mind because I fell asleep after that, and I only stirred again when he carried me into my apartment, which he let himself into with his misty powers.
“Smoke skills,” I corrected myself aloud, murmuring the words into his leather jacket and once-more-human chest.
“That lady in 402,” said Grim as he turned down the darkened back hall, not bothering to hit a single light switch. “The one with the rhinestone glasses?”
“Ms. Lynn.”
“Pretty sure she hates my guts,” Grim rumbled. “She grilled me pretty hard about why you were passed out. Couldn’t tell her I literally boned you senseless in a mausoleum, and I didn’t want her to call the cops, so I had to tell her you were drunk.”
“Mmmmnot really a lie,” I murmured when he bypassed mybedroom, heading into the connecting bathroom. My insanely pink bathroom with flower decals on the wall.
Again, he forwent hitting the lights, which left us in the glow of the light-up, piña colada–scented, ukelele-shaped plug-in air freshener.
Gently, Grim set me down, the cold tiles stinging my bare feet, bringing me reluctantly back to life.
“Your shoes are in the living room,” he said, though I hadn’t been worried about them.
Woozy on my feet, in a good way, I smiled up at him. Grim’s eyes traced my face, lingering on my lips before finding my gaze again.
Behind us, the shower clicked on.
“You’re a dirty girl,” he chided. “You know that?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Well, I wasn’t before.”
“You desecrated a tomb. What’s wrong with you?”
“Grim!”
