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“What’s your name?” I ask in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m called Grim,” he says in that deep throaty voice that sends tingles shooting through me. I love the sound of it. It’s the auditory equivalent of eating melted chocolate or smelling freshly baked cookies.
“I’m Anna.”
“I know,” he says. “I’ve been following you.”
“I could feel you,” I say as I slide my hand over my wet arm. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
He says nothing.
“You were there that day,” I say with my body tingling with nerves. I’m finally going to have the answer to what happened after my accident. I’ve been wondering about it for months. “I was dead, wasn’t I? But then, you brought me back.”
He nods slowly. “I did.”
“How?” I ask with my voice racing. “Are you a ghost? An angel?”
“I’m a Reaper,” he says after a long moment. “I render lost souls.”
“What does that mean?”
“I bring them to the Soul Collector.”
“The… Soul Collector? What is that?”
“He’s an eternal being,” he says in his deep raspy voice. “Humans would probably call him a god. Maybe he is one.”
“What does he do with the souls?”
I watch him curiously as he cups water into his hand and slides it through his dark gray hair. He’s breathing slow and steady, that big powerful chest moving up and down with every breath.
“He keeps them safe,” he says. “Puts them to rest. Returns them to the darkness that they were plucked out of at birth.”
“He doesn’t… harm them?”
“No,” he says sharply. “I would never serve a being who did that.”
“So… you serve him?” I ask, trying to understand.
“I served him, yes. I served him for one hundred and fifty years, but that time is over. I serve another soul now.”
“Whose?”
“Yours, my sweet soul. I am your protector now. We belong together, can you feel it?”
I swallow as I nod. “I do.”
This guy is giving me all of the secrets to the universe, every cosmic mystery that philosophers, professors, religious leaders, and frankly, every human who’s ever lived have desperately searched for over thousands of years, but all I can think about is that long thick cock in the water between us.
“One hundred and fifty years?” I repeat when it finally hits me how long he’s been around. “What were you before then?”
“I was human,” he says sadly. His eyes begin to drift off like he’s back in that other time long before I was born.
“What was your name?” I ask as curiosity flares within. “Back then?”
He closes his eyes and thinks long and hard. “My name was William.”
“William,” I repeat. “Should I call you that?”
