Can Grave and Athera find a way to kill Nexanthon? Can they find a way to be together? Will Grave stop being stubborn and realize that Athera is the only female for him?
Only time, and one annoyed death deity, will tell.
As soon as he heard the whoosh of sound confirming the door had closed behind him, Grave tossed the bags he was holding in the corner and turned toward the bed.
He crashed down on his back onto it and groaned when he felt the softness of the mattress.
Grave would never admit it to anyone, but he was hurting and still recovering from the venom that had nearly killed him. He lifted his arm and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow.
“So damn tired,” he muttered. He wanted to sleep for a week straight, and he knew it was because his body had been through so much. However, sleep wasn’t going to happen, because he had a mission to complete.
Thinking of Athera made him sit up with a grunt. The car trip—no, the whole trip here had been a special kind of torture for him.
Grave was used to having her around. He was used to the low buzz in his bloodstream, the one that told him he wanted her, but the car trip? Oh, that had been a visit in hell.
Stuck in the small back seat with her, her scent filling his nose and lungs—damn she smelled good—like an ocean breeze in the night and flowers.
His senses seemed to be hypersensitive to her. Every time she had moved, he’d felt the change in her heat patterns, sensed her movement in a visceral way.
All he’d wanted to do was drag her onto his lap and start kissing her until she lost all reason. It wasn’t fair that he wanted her so badly. He wanted her to want him just as much.
Another groan left his lips and he collapsed back onto the bed.
His body was beaten and hurt and all he could think about was getting Athera naked?
After he was cursed, he’d thought he would miss sex—and he had. Still—it hadn’t been the type of all-consuming longing he felt now. All that longing was centered on only one female.
Athera was constantly in his head, in his sense of smell, in every breath he took. He couldn’t get away from her, and if he was goingto be honest with himself, he didn’t want to. Even if it meant he sported a raging hard-on the whole day long.
Damn, just thinking about her had him hard again.
Grave reached down and ran a palm over his aching cock, then grunted at the contact.
If only it was Athera touching it. The thought caused his hips to buck up as if he had no control.
Grave sat up, then stood and started pacing in the small room. He looked over at the door to the bathroom. If he went for a shower now, he would stroke himself to come, and he didn’t want to do that. He wanted the feel of Athera under him, and no hand job could compare to that. It would leave him unsatisfied and more charged up than he’d been before.
Grave made a harsh sound. He’d been hiding an erection almost constantly around the female. In that way, her innocence was a blessing. She had no idea of the effect she had on him, no idea what he’d do to be inside her.
Yeah, anything except killing her, and that’s what would happen if he had what he wanted.
He needed a distraction. He was going to find the others and figure out the next part of their plan. Yes, he was going to find the males, not Athera. He wasn’t going to look for her specifically.
Grave let out a bark of humorless laughter. He sucked at lying, even to himself. First, he’d have that shower without anything other than a good wash.
He grabbed his bag and realized that he had Athera’s bag as well.
He lowered himself until he was balanced on his haunches, gripping the edge of the bag, his fingers on the zipper.
Grave hesitated at what was clearly an invasion of Athera’s privacy. Then, he yanked the tab, opening the bag with a smooth motion with a soft zipping sound.
Her scent hit him like a bomb blast. His body responded and his cock became painfully hard.
Grave spat out a curse but didn’t close the bag. Instead, he reached into it and pulled out one of Athera’s t-shirts. He lifted the fabric to his nose and buried his face in it, breathing in deeply.
God, she smelled so good. So right. Athera smelled like perfection. She smelled like him—like she had been made for only him.
It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. Reapers didn’t have fated mates, so it wasn’t anything like that, but she felt right.
He couldn’t explain the feeling—not even to himself. Athera felt like she had been meant for him, and the feeling had only intensified after she’d helped to heal him.
He refolded her shirt and put it back in her bag, then zipped the thing closed, stood, and walked away from it.
“You can’t keep doing that to yourself,” he said aloud. “Grow some balls and get over her, because you can’t have her.”
As pep talks went, this one wasn’t working.
There was a ping at the door and a woosh as it opened. Heath put his head in the room and looked around.
“Who are you talking to?” he asked Grave.
Grave snorted and shot back, “A moron. Where is Athera?” As soon as the question left his mouth, he wanted to bite it and swallow it back.
Heath straightened and shrugged. “Last I saw her, she was heading out the living area with William.”
“Fuck!” Grave yelled as he shouldered his way past Heath.
“What’s the problem?” Heath called after him.
“I don’t trust William,” Grave commented as his long strides took him to the door leading to the tunnel.