Ash Bear (Daughters of Beasts Book 3) Page 4

  For once in his life, he wanted to give smiles instead. For her. Feeling like shit on the bottom of a boot, Grim pulled his chair right next to hers and gently gripped her chin, bringing her gaze to his. “I wasn’t teasing. You have pretty eyes and a figure that makes my balls clench just walking behind you. You have a sweet disposition, and you care about people. You don’t just waltz through your life unaffected by the people around you. You’re a good friend to Juno and Remi, and you think a lot about other people’s feelings, and—”

  “I ain’t one of those smart girls. And my body is shaped like a number eight, not a number one. I live here alone and will probably never leave the Boarlanders. No boy has ever stuck around because I don’t make sense to anybody, and nobody makes sense to me. I’ve been on bangaboarlander for three years since Juno set up my account for my twenty-fifth birthday, and people always message, but they don’t care about me after I respond. I bore them.”

  Grim released her chin because, truth be told, he felt like he’d just stuck a fork in a light socket. “None of that matches the girl I see. And besides, eight is my favorite number. You’re the least boring person I’ve ever talked to. Fuck anyone who made you feel that way. Give me a list, and I’ll take care of them.”

  “W-what?”

  “A list, Ash. Give me a list of those boys’ names who made feel that way about yourself. Fuck anyone who ever made you feel like you don’t make sense.” He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “You’re just about the only thing that’s made sense to me in years.”

  Chapter Six

  Ash sat there stunned. She made sense to him? A trill of excitement zinged through her that made her want to make him presents. Pizza rolls and pocket knives and heart-shaped cards and all the special stuff she’d watched her friends in Damon’s Mountains give their mates over the years. She wanted to make more smiles on his face. Pretty smiles, not the ones like when he gritted his teeth at his Crewmates at the bar.

  “How did you meet your people?” she asked, suddenly desperate to know more about him.

  “You want confessions? It’s probably best to get them out of the way, and then you can decide whether I sleep inside or outside tonight.”

  She shook her head slightly. What did that mean?

  Grim pushed the bull hoodie off his head, adjusted the peas on his shoulder, relaxed back against the back of the lounge chair, and stared at the fire. “I’m in Rogue Pride to exist until I get too tired to keep going.”

  Those last two words broke her heart. “Don’t say that. Don’t be tired.”

  He gave her a small crooked smile that didn’t reach his amber-colored eyes. He growled a lot. Between sentences, between words, even when he was just sitting there. “I was raised in the Tarian Pride. They made me who I am. Made the Reaper. I was born with a dominant lion, raised with the intention I would Challenge for Alpha someday. I was brought up to hate everyone. My grandma was a submissive lioness. Both my parents were killed in Pride politics when I was a cub. There was a council, five dominant lions who chose kings for the Pride. They’d chosen me when I showed I liked to fight early on. So when I wasn’t with my grandma, they were training me to be a killer. It’s all I knew. I had my grandma trying her best to keep me good, but I had the council reinforcing the bad. Started fighting when I was twelve. I wanted to fight everything. To kill every male who even looked at me wrong, and the council was proud of that. I was rewarded for every fight won. And then I lost a fight. A big one. I was eighteen. There was one other lion being brought up to be high in the ranks. An asshole named Justin Moore. Justin was a problem. He was a womanizer. He thought females were there for him to breed when he took Alpha and nothing else. They existed to give him future cubs. They were nothing more than a wet hole to stick his dick in. Made me sick, watching him treat the females like shit. We hated each other. Hated. If a male ever treated my grandma the way Justin treated the females, I would kill him slow and not lose a second of sleep. We had to homeschool because the council was creating monsters who couldn’t be in a public setting. So, we were kept nestled in the heart of the Pride, built like weapons, taught the politics, taught how to work the Pride, taught how to be ruthless Tarian kings, knowing one of us would rule the Pride when the Alpha got too old and weak to hold it. One of us was born to kill him.” Grim looked over at Ash, his eyes sparking with something she didn’t understand. “Do you want to run yet?”

  But he wasn’t evil. Just tortured. Her eyes burned with tears because she wished for a better story for him. She wished he’d had an easy time growing up. She pushed the hood off her head, set down her plate, and threw the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. Then she crawled onto his lounger right behind him and wrapped the blanket around them both. She hugged him up tight because that’s what her dad had always taught her. If someone was broken, a hug could keep their pieces together.

  “Keep going,” she whispered.

  Grim inhaled deeply. “I’ve never talked about this before. Not out loud. I’ve only replayed it in my head.”

  “Tell it to me like a movie. Take me there. Tell me about how the Reaper came to be.”

  “Okay.” Grim sucked in a deep breath and patted her hands on his stomach. “I lost a fight to Justin. We nearly murdered each other, our lions hated each other so bad. We both ended up in the middle of a field, in the middle of a bad storm, bleeding out while the Tarian Pride stood around us waiting to see which one of us died first so our families could be honored or stripped of their honor. You like stormy weather, but rainclouds always remind me of the day I died. I remember my grandma screaming and crying as the council held her back. She wanted to help me, but I couldn’t be helped. I was built to die or survive in that field. I tried to hold on. I wanted to keep my eyes open so bad, but everything hurt, and my lungs weren’t working right. I was so cold. I tried to focus on my grandma. Her hair was down, silver already from stressing over the monster I turned out to be. It was whipping in the storm. Tears were streaming down her face, and her eyes were bright green like my lion’s used to be. She Changed and fought everyone, but there were too many, and I lost sight of her in the mass of lions. I couldn’t move. My fuckin’ neck was ripped open. I was lying there painting the grass red. I died first.”

  “Oh my God, Grim.”

  “I didn’t see God when I died. I saw something much worse.”

  “What?” she asked, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

  “The Reaper. I woke up in a basement with a blanket over my body. Something was burning inside of me, something awful and dark. There was an incinerator going, heating up a dank room. That was the hell I’d been meant for, but hell was being born inside of me instead. I Changed over and over and over, just…body buckling in on itself. It was a glitch or something. My old body was still fighting, but the Reaper wanted complete control, so he took the body and gave it back and took the body and gave it back, just playing with it like a bored cat with an injured mouse. Every second that went by felt like an eternity, and I begged for the council to kill me. Anytime I heard them talking outside the door, I begged. Begged and begged and begged. Begged until my voice wouldn’t work anymore. I was an eighteen-year-old kid in more pain than anyone could imagine. I Changed like that for three days. Didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, just Changed until my body didn’t feel pain anymore. Until I was numb, lying there on that burial blanket, staring at a wall, dead enough. The council didn’t know what it meant. I felt so different to them, and I was. The lion inside of me that would’ve made a good Alpha for the Pride was almost snuffed out of existence. He was barely there, while the Reaper…well…he was the new king. Justin lived, and my rank couldn’t be recovered after a loss that bad, so the council came up with a new job for me.”

  Ash wrapped her arms around him tighter. “What was it?”

  “Enforcer. I was the bullet whenever the Tarian Pride went to war, had a territory dispute, or had a scuffle with a rogue, anything. I was the killer, and the Reap
er loved it. He grew stronger and stronger until he destroyed all the good parts of me.”

  “No,” Ash murmured. “Not all of them.”

  Grim frowned and angled his face to the side. Mohawk, tattoos, so many scars.

  She rested her cheek on his back. Pretty monster. “I’m not a smart girl, but I can feel good parts of a person. You don’t go by the Reaper because you are still Grim. I saw green eyes tonight. You’re still here. The Reaper just had to exist keep you alive. You gotta angel and a devil in you, Grim Reaper. That devil ain’t won yet. I don’t want you to be tired. I want you to stay.”

  “In Damon’s Mountains?”

  “No, I know your story isn’t meant for here. I mean, I want you to stay on this earth. If you exist, everything can be okay.”

  Grim rubbed his hand over and over her clenched ones squeezing his stomach. He stared into the woods. “You really think so?”

  “Well, you said I make sense. And I never did that for anyone before. I like that feeling. You’ll go home to your mountains, and I’ll be here in mine, but my heart can be happy if I know that somewhere out there you’re okay.” Ash kissed his tensed back gently. “If you’re okay, that means I’m okay, too. Grim?”

  “Hmm?” he rumbled.

  “I want to be your friend.”

  “I can’t be friends, Ash. I’ll hurt you.”

  “I accept.”

  “What?”

  “I accept that you’ll hurt me. But try not to, okay?”

  There were a few loaded moments when she just sat there, hugging him tight to make sure all his pretty pieces stayed together. The clearing was silent, the wind was still, and the only thing she could hear or feel was the pounding of Grim’s heartbeat against his sternum, against her hand.

  “I’ll try.”

  And that’s the most she could ask for from a broken man—effort.

  He was too smart and too good for her, but she was going to make sure he was safe, no matter what. Reaper or Grim, she didn’t care. She just wanted the good parts of him to keep going and keep fighting. She would be a proud friend and a secret cheerleader for the Alpha of Rogue Pride.

  Chapter Seven

  Kill her.

  Grim sat up in a rush and nearly fell off the edge of Ash’s guest bed. It was dark as pitch. Not even moonlight filtered through the open window. Must’ve been covered by clouds. A memory of him lying in that field washed through his mind. He really hated clouds. He could feel the cold breeze on his skin. Always, always he had to sleep with the window open, no matter how cold it was. The Reaper needed fresh air. That part he understood. It was left over from the days in the basement in the dark, the birthplace of the Reaper. He couldn’t go back to feeling trapped.

  Kill her, the Reaper whispered again.

  Those words were so clear, the Reaper could’ve been sitting right beside him instead of in his mind. It used to give him chills, but he’d accepted the demon in him a long time ago.

  Grim scrubbed his hands over his face. His skin was clammy, and he was uncomfortable from the inside out, but couldn’t decide if he was too cold or too hot.

  Kill her.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he murmured, but something curious happened. The same words were whispered softly in his mind at the same time. Shut the fuck up, Reaper.

  Grim stumbled from the bed, his legs tangling in the bed sheets. He nearly went down, but caught himself on the edge of the mattress and then scrambled for the light switch. He flipped it on as soon as he could and looked around the room.

  He was alone.

  Kill her.

  Shut the fuck up…Reaper… The old whisper rang with familiarity as it faded to nothing on Reaper’s name.

  Couldn’t be.

  Couldn’t.

  Be.

  Was that the old lion? The one he’d been born with? The one that had been stifled by the bad in him? It had been so long since he’d heard him, Grim couldn’t be certain. Maybe he was just going crazy as usual.

  “Hello?” he murmured, desperate to prod The Good, as Ash had called him, to the surface of his mind again. But there was nothing there. Not anymore.

  Kill her.

  “Shut the fuck up, Reaper,” he gritted out again. This time it was only his voice.

  His body pulsed with a sick, dark power. He shook his head and fought the nausea that threatened to double him over. Grim didn’t want to Change again. He wanted to keep Ash safe, and he couldn’t do that if he was The Reaper.

  Kill her.

  “Why?” he demanded through clenched teeth, gripping his hair, pulling it as his stomach churned and his skin tingled.

  Because we don’t understand her. She’s different. Submissive. She makes me feel…

  “Makes you feel what?” he choked out. The Reaper never talked, never seemed confused like this, and Grim had to know.

  She makes me feel. I don’t like it. Make her stop. Kill her.

  Grim groaned and stumbled out the door. His movements were jerky and forced as he made his way along the dim hallway, backlit by the bedroom light behind him. No, no, no. Reaper, stop!

  He watched his hand push open the door. It creaked softly, and inside, Ash was laying on her bed, facing him. Her eyes were trained right on him, and she didn’t look surprised.

  “The Bad is loud.”

  Grim swallowed hard, but it felt like a lump of cement moving down his throat. “Ash?” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. Run? Help? Fucking use your magic and fix me?

  “Come here,” she murmured.

  “I shouldn’t, Ash. I’m not okay.”

  Yes, the Reaper whispered. Go to her.

  Creepy motherfucker.

  Ash sat up in bed and pulled the covers back to make room for him. Didn’t she realize this was a bad idea? Didn’t her instincts scream that something was wrong? Couldn’t she sense the Reaper? Grim was nearly choking on him.

  Chest heaving with shallow pants, he made his way to her. She was wearing a short purple nightdress with a V at the neck. The hem was riding up her thighs. Her legs looked so smooth and pale in the dim light coming from behind him. He bet if he touched them, they would feel like silk.

  Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed.

  Ash shocked him to his bones by cupping his cheeks. “I see you.”

  Grim frowned. “What do you mean?” Fuck, his voice was so scratchy. He sounded like a monster.

  “You were talking to yourself. Your gold eyes—they’re pretty like the sun, but hard to look at like the sun.” She flipped her hand over and dragged the back of her knuckles down his beard. Felt so good, he almost, almost, purred. The fire in him was dimming, but the Reaper was still here watching her.

  “My real name is Joshua.” He didn’t know why he’d told her that. He hadn’t uttered his given name since the Reaper had been born. It felt strange just to form the word. “I guess I just wanted you to know.”

  She looked at him, looked at his bare chest, at him, at his bare chest. Submissive, pretty girl, he couldn’t blame her. Most people had trouble holding his gaze.

  “You’re not bad, you know,” she whispered. “You’re different, but different doesn’t mean bad.”

  Why was his heart pounding so hard right now?

  Her hands on his face felt like heaven in a bottle. Like four shots of whiskey after a hard day. Like before the Reaper, before his life got so fucked up, before the Tarian Pride made him what he was. Maybe it was Ash who was The Good.

  He leaned forward and kissed her. He didn’t know what possessed him to do that; she was better off living her whole life without a touch from him. He couldn’t even blame it on the Reaper taking his body. This was all him. A growl rattled up his throat, but he ignored it and so did Ash. She tasted good. He wanted more, but he also didn’t want to fuck this up, so he eased back. She just sat there, her little chin lifted high, her lips puckered, her eyes closed, her cheeks turning redder and redder. And then there was this tiny smile on her lips that did some
thing to his insides…something good. The snarl died in his throat.

  Pretty girl.

  Sweet girl.

  Smart girl.

  Sensitive girl.

  Understanding girl.

  A man searched his whole life for a ride or die, but it was impossible to know what that looked like until you saw it in a woman’s essence, her personality, her reactions. Ash was special. More special than she realized.

  She opened her eyes slowly, and they were glowing an icy blue color, several shades lighter than they’d been before. There was her bear. Fuck, she was a stunner.

  “You aren’t wearing any pants.”

  Grim snorted in surprise and looked down at his raging boner. “Nooo, I am not.”

  She glanced down at his dick, and her smile got brighter. “That’s big. It’s like the size of my arm.”

  Okay, now he was chuckling. “That’s an exaggeration, but my ego thanks you.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to flirt, or even seduce a man, so if you ever want more from me, you will have to say a code word or something.”

  Grim leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan. “Like what?”

  “Like…let’s diddle.” She giggled and plopped on the bed right beside him. “I like talking to you. It’s easy.”

  He shook his head in mock shock. “Woman, you’re the only one in the whole would who would say that about me.”

  “Well…if I say something wrong, I will just remind you that you’re crazy and I will get a free pass.”

  “Ha! Probably.”

  “Your insanity is like a safety net.”

  He grinned over at her. She was loosening up and talking easier. Atta girl.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go back,” she said suddenly, resting her cheek on her arm and plucking at a loose thread on the bedspread. “I like having you around.”

  “I’ve only been around for a few hours,” he reminded her.

  Ash shrugged up her shoulders. “Feels like longer.”

  And she was right. He’d just met her at the bar tonight, but he’d already told her his real name and admitted things he’d never said out loud to anyone. There was something here. Something big. He wanted to keep her.