“Why the fuck are you telling me this?”
He stepped even closer, until his subtle, dark scent enveloped me. “If Grim is your reaper, then you’re his fucking reckoning. He knows you’re going to kill him, and he refuses to let go.”
Without another word, Wraith disappeared into the shadows. I stood frozen to the spot, forgetting what I’d been doing.
Oh, right, bathroom.
The bathroom was private and huge, especially for a club. It was all black marble with vines of gold. Velvet oxblood curtains hung on one wall. On the other, a thick-cut sink with gold vining through the black marble.
I pulled my lip gloss out, dabbing my lips.
Grim’s reckoning?
Yeah, fucking right.
I shook my head just as the door opened behind me.
“Bruh, occupied?—”
I broke off. A person reflected in the mirror. His hair was a mop of messy brown, and he held a knife in his hand.
The guy from the floor.
He took a step closer, and I leaned back.
“I know you make your posts for me,” he said, stepping closer. “You’ve been talking to me. Dressing for me.”
His voice disappeared into a sickening groan.
I exhaled. They were all the same. I don’t know why that bothered me more than, you know, the threat of imminent death. They were like everyone else, obsessed with the idea of me.
This time I was feeling a little more than the usual numb exhilaration. Feeling…kind of pissed off.
“Is this your big display to show the world Gemma Crowne belongs to you?” I asked, stepping closer. “What a waste of fucking time.Everyoneowns Gemma Crowne.”
Fury flashed in his eyes just as the door opened again, so quiet I wouldn’t have noticed had I not had a perfect view of it.
Grim leaned against the doorjamb. None of the Horsemen ever dressed for their theme, so of course he wasn’t wearing some kind of toga. He somehow looked more expensive in his simple black pants and black shirt, rolled up to his forearms to show off his tattoos. The buttons of his shirt were slightly undone, messy almost, like he couldn’t be bothered to finish it. On that sliver of tan skin I saw the edge of the three scratches that tattooed our destinies together.
I knew who he was really supposed to be. The gold arrow dripping with something that might be blood made it obvious.
Eros.
He rubbed his jaw, a barely there smile tweaking the side of his mouth. Something flickered in his eyes, an emotion like gold glittering at the bottom of a black well.
Humor?
Maybe, but it felt darker.
“I’ve imagined this so many times,” the guy continued, oblivious to the threat at his back. He pressed the knife to my neck and the familiarrushovercame me.
I stared at Grim, angling my neck up for the knife.
An offering, but not for this asshole.
Grim’s eyes pulsed, locked on my arched neck, and I felt the vibration in my bones. That twisted, dark thing betweenus shimmered in the air. My teeth tingled like if I’d eaten too much sugar. It landed electric in my gut.
“I bet you’re even more beautiful dead?—”
