Page 40 of Left Hand of the Divine
Atticus snorted. “I think that’s just the way they work. I seem to recall doing the same thing to you.”
I turned to look at the demon. “You did?”
He smiled fondly at the memory. “Yep. I swanned in, asked for Roux and dropped the paperwork in her hand while she just stood there and stared at my pretty eyes.”
“I did not,” she replied indignantly.
“Oh please, kitten,” he scoffed. “You were practically drooling.”
She harrumphed and folded her arms across her chest. “You shouldn’t look so sexy and dangerous in a suit then.”
That he shouldn’t. He always seemed to have a pressed white shirt and fitted trousers to hand, and I wondered where he kept them all.
“You haven’t seen me in leather pants yet,” he jibed, his eyebrows waggling suggestively.
There was a collective groan from around the room, and I swear the temperature just shot up.
“What are you groaning for?” Rafe said as he leant closer to Magnus.
“Do you want to taste the pretty demon?” Rayne asked, his voice so low I could almost feel it vibrate through the floor.
Magnus blushed and sank into his chair as if he wanted it to swallow him whole.
Atticus turned to me and grinned like the devil was on his shoulder. “Should I tell them he’s already tasted me?”
My jaw dropped. When did that happen? “Stop being a shit-stirrer.”
Atticus merely smiled wider. He knew the Hounds had excellent hearing and would have heard that even if he’d spoken it from the other side of the house.
“Is that right?” Rafe said, amusement brightening his eyes.
“And you didn’t tell us,” Rayne added as he gripped Magnus’ chin and forced him to look deep into his eyes. “Naughty little vamp.”
Oomph, that tone of Rayne’s called to the masochist that lived beneath my skin. It had been too long since I’d let myself go under the thumb of someone else.
“I think we should go,” Atticus said, as he shamelessly adjusted himself in his trousers. “Thane is enjoying the view too much.”
The large glass building loomed high above us as we stared at GRIM HQ. It had been so long since I’d been here, and so much had changed since I’d last walked through the halls.
No, it wasmethat had changed. I’d lost my scythe and standing as the Grim Reaper, and I now had the soul bind with Atticus. I could alsofeelmore than I had before. I’d lost so much of myself over the millennia that I’d lived, losing fragments of myself the longer that I watched over the lives of others, that my own life ceased to exist. I became a husk of the man I used to be; I knew that now. If it hadn’t been for Roux dropping into my life and slowly worming her way under my defences, I’m not sure I’d have had the capability to recognise the need I had for Atticus.
I stared at Roux, her glorious red hair tumbling down her back in soft waves. Her smile was wide as she spoke to her Hounds and Atticus despite the looming meeting with the Guild and her participation in the Games. I was envious of her. She found it so easy to interact with people, whereas I just felt awkward and stiff. Perhaps I’d gotten so consumed in being the Grim Reaper that I’d lost sight of Thanatos the man.
I caught Atticus’ eye, and he beckoned me over. There was a tightness about his mouth, and I could feel uncertainty eating at our connection.
“Are you alright?” I asked as I threaded my fingers through his.
He sighed softly as my skin touched his and warmth settled in my chest. “Better now.”
Roux stood in between the twins, as close as they could be without touching. I knew I had a tendency to be oblivious to most things, but I could always see the yearning between the three of them. It was one of the first things that started me on the path to looking at the history of Reapers. I was a God; I wasn’t a Reaper,despite holding the title of Grim Reaper. But Reapers as a species were strange. They weren’t born, and anyone could become a Reaper as they crossed over. You had to die to become one, and normally you retained memories of who you were before.
When I’d found Roux, she was sitting beneath a tree and crying. She had been dressed in a gown of white, like an old chiton that was clasped at her shoulders with golden pins in the shape of snakes.
I instinctively knew that she was a Reaper, but the loss in her memories was the first sign that set me on the path to research Reapers. She should have remembered something, but she didn’t even have a name. Just grief. That in itself was unusual. I knew then that she wasn’t a normal Reaper. She was something beyond that. So, I decided to keep her close to try and figure her out.
I’d picked the name ‘Roux’ for the colour of her hair, and something in me decided to look after her. I’d never been one to put myself out for anyone, but she looked at me with such innocence, with such hope, that it made something spark in my chest that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Purpose.
