GRIT

by Elle Cross

  He swallows a groan and a prayer. "I will help you. I will give you what you need."

  He leads me to a pile of soft cushions, and lays me on an ottoman. Velvet lips kiss down my body. His hot mouth envelopes a peaked nipple, sucking and licking it, while his hands explore the rest of my body. Intrepid fingers find the liquid heat between my legs, diving in deep, slipping up and down my folds. His thumb rubs my clit with teasing softness.

  I moan a wordless plea.

  "I know," he answers. He cups my breasts, teasing my taut nipples with his fingers. His teeth graze along my rib cage, my hip bone. Then, he buries his face between my legs. He laps up my slit, swirling his tongue around my swollen clit, then thrusting it into my opening. Again and again in intoxicating rhythms.

  I look down the length of my body to watch him work his mouth on me. He presses his lips against my clit, slips his fingers inside me, diving in and out of the slick heat. My back bows with the building pressure, my fingers dig into the cushions. My breathing turns ragged.

  I come for him. He grips my hips still, holding them down while the rest of me writhes under his gentle torment. He continues to suck and lick my hot, wet flesh until I'm a quivering melted pool.

  He covers me with his body, then, his head resting lightly on my chest, his weight on me delicious as his body throbs with unspent need.

  I caress his hair, his shoulders, anywhere I can reach. With each touch, I invite him to fill me, to fill the empty need inside me. Why doesn't he?

  He kisses my fingers. "I want you, my darling, but I want you fully aware of me and who I am."

  He hugs me close to him, every inch of me pressing against him as he stands us both upright. Wrapping my robe securely around me, he takes me again into the span of his arms, my head tucked under his chin. "I cannot follow you. But I will make the way for you."

  I nod like I understand. And for a moment I think I do. This moment is sacred, set apart, a warm bolt-hole where I fear nothing.

  "You don't need to hide." He massages circles around the places where my blessings had been tattooed. "I can keep you safe."

  I don't want to acknowledge those things he speaks of. Instead, I graze my fingers over his chest, asking him questions I have no words for.

  He lifts them and kisses the sensitive tips, one by one, massages the palm with his thumb. "Yes, you will see me again. Maybe even today, after you wake up."

  I don't understand what he's saying. But my eyes blur, and my head begins to feel light.

  "Let's get you back now." He herds me toward a doorway that looks out into a winter landscape. "The sooner you wake up, the sooner you can find me."

  I nod my head feeling even more adrift. Like I will float away. Lost forever.

  "I won't let that happen." The passion in his voice thrums through my body. "See there? I prepared a way for you." He motions to a thawed path, hints of grass and meadow peeking through the quickly melting snow. Fog banks part and unfurl, the mists hang heavy over the snowbanks, held at bay.

  "Go now," he says, kissing my forehead. "Go before you wake. This way will be easier for you. You will find your way now."

  I graze my fingers over his hot skin one more time, and revel in his answering groan.

  Then, I walk through the path he laid for me, until the air thickens, and it's like I'm pushing against plush pillows. Then, I'm enveloped in cocooning light.

  An alarm blared and I shot upright on my bed. It was that hideous ringtone that made me feel like I was in the middle of a nuclear meltdown.

  Full sunlight streamed through the filter curtains on my windows.

  Oh Lords Above, I was late for something. I just knew it. I never stayed in bed this late.

  I scrambled for the phone on its charger at my nightstand. Funny, I didn't remember plugging it in. I plucked it off its base.

  Corbin's hawk-like face glowed on screen. It wasn’t my alarm that was screeching, it was a call from Corbin. My brain scrambled, racing through every scrap of memory to see if I missed an appointment or something. After two tries, I was finally able to answer the call. "'Corbin?"

  She was obnoxiously awake and chipper. "You sound rough, V."

  My throat felt hollow and raw. "I'm fine, just overslept." I kicked the sheets off me, and tried twice to get up. I ached all over, but managed to throw my legs over the side of my bed. Blades of damp grass clung to the bottoms of my feet.

  Odd. A tickle of memory flitted through my mind then evaporated immediately at Corbin's words.

  "Oh. Okay so you're awake now, are you?"

  I stopped fumbling around my room at her syrupy tone. "Yes?" I asked cautiously.

  "Good. So you can explain to me why my officer told me you propositioned him last night?" The last bit was an unfiltered yell into the phone. I held it out from my ear.

  At that volume plus her Voice, Corbin was lethal to my brain cells.

  "I didn't really proposition him—" I started.

  She cut me off. "Yeah, I got it, you just wanted him gone fast. I know."

  Confused about her anger, I started to ask, "Then why—"

  "Because you didn't let him do his job! You have no idea what could have been waiting for you, what might have piggybacked from that flesh bomb that used to be Owen Sanderson, or—oh I don't know?—if one of your potential thousands of crazy stalker fans could've been lying in wait."

  "Oh." I bit my lip before I could reply that I didn't nearly have that many stalker fans. Corbin's anger already seethed through the phone; adding that bit would have melted it. Besides, she did have a point. All I could think of was keeping my secret room secret, and purging myself of the terror I'd smuggled away and not about the reason Bailey was there: to check and make sure I’d be safe.

  "What? You thought I was pissed because of that strip tease act? Please. First of all, you've done that stunt before, and second of all, you're a grown-ass woman, you can fuck whoever you want. Hell, I'd probably have been happier had I heard you fucked Bailey."

  I threw my hands up. "We're not having this conversation. I refuse to believe it's even happening. Besides, I could see that I was alone."

  "Do I need to remind you of that vampire?"

  "I will never live that fucking vampire down," I muttered as I pawed through my drawers, trying to find matching underwear and hosiery.

  "Nope. Never."

  "Fucking vampires."

  "Fucking vampires is right," Corbin said, as she walked into my room, a carafe of coffee dangling from her finger. I must have been gaping at her, because she said, "Surprised?"

  "What the—" I looked at my phone and saw she had already hung up. "I didn't even hear you come in." I scooped my bathrobe shut, grabbed my fistful of lingerie, and padded toward my bathroom, leaving the door open so she could follow if she wanted. "So whatcha doing all the way up here?" I yelled, knowing she was probably back in the kitchen searching for food. There were probably leftovers in my fridge that we could share or something.

  "I had a couple follow up interviews close to here, figured I'd swing by, fuel up before crossing them off my list. Wanna come with? Could use your feel for them. Seemed like your kind of people, in your neck of the woods. By the way, grabbed some breakfast-y food, too. Which was kinda hard now that it's after eleven o'clock, but I sweet-talked your favorite delivery boy to smuggle in some fresh bagels and those egg sandwich things."

  I didn't know what tripped me up more. The image of her "sweet talking" anyone—which was probably more like a death glare warmed over by her Voice—or the idea that she had brought food.

  I showered quickly, ignoring the random pains the hot water lit up on my skin, knotting my hair into a loose chignon since I didn't have time to wash it. I stepped into one of my many sheath dresses, grabbed the first jacket I touched, and stepped into the closest pair of heels. All of my work clothes were chosen to be easy mix-and-match pieces. The fewer decisions I needed to make in the day the better. A swipe of eyeliner and brush of mascara and I was
done. I skipped the lipstick, pocketing it for later since I would need to reapply it after eating anyway.

  I fired off a quick text to Megan saying that I had overslept and to move my appointments please.

  She texted back immediately:

 

  I stopped. That was awfully thoughtful of Corbin. I played it off.

 

  Dear Lord, was that an emoji of two bears fucking?

  I deleted that to make sure I'd never see it again. I only wished I could do the same with my mind's eye.

  I sent off, , and set the "do not disturb" feature on my phone before throwing it into my bag. No way was I going to tell her that I had bailed on the blind date.

  Breakfast smelled delicious, laid out in twinkling tinfoil. For Corbin, this was like setting out fine china and silver. It was absolutely beautiful.

  "Tell me what happened after I left last night…"

  Corbin spoke about some of the interviews, how she'd love to hear my impressions of the widow, since she had done the death messenger thing last night. She had a few hunches, but nothing gelled, nothing she wanted to get too weighty yet.

  The men didn't wait long after all, didn't even bother to say goodbye. They were called away, at least that was what her men reported. I told her about how odd they were, sliding over how compelling Deimos was. Those Remnant Gods tended to do that, get under my guard and mess with me. I showed her the business card they had given me.

  "Fancy," she said. "All black. There's nothing on it, not even a name."

  "I thought it was kind of an artistic design. Clearly, being that he operates where he does, it's not like you can get lost." There was only one Black Tower in the city, and it only made sense that their calling card would literally be plain black.

  I was surprised that Corbin agreed with me. "True. I mean, you’re a Remnant God, did you even need a card? The Black Tower would’ve been the first place I would have come calling if I wanted to talk to them, anyway." Then she peered at it closer before handing it back to me. “Another thought, too, is that it could be a really fancy key card. You know how private they could be. Maybe this is the only way you could get in.”

  Something about the way she said it made me nod. After all, it did remind me of a hotel key card when I’d first seen Owen’s. Speaking of which…

  "Oh! I forgot because of the goings on last night, but I got one of these from Owen, too."

  She cocked an eyebrow at me. Her ‘not some bad juju’ look. "How exactly did some mind fucked dude hand you a card? I don't recall him having much in the way of pockets for carrying them."

  I just rolled my eyes at her. "It got pressed into my hand somehow. Part of the reason I got his memory.”

  I let her digest that.

  I chugged down coffee first, followed by a bite of bagel, then another sip of coffee. "Now for the record, this is how I prefer my wake up calls, okay?" We toasted our coffee cups and enjoyed some pleasant silence as we ate.

  "Hey," Corbin said around her egg sandwich, "so, I'm sorry and all."

  I spread around the smear of cream cheese so that every bit of the bagel's surface was coated. "Sorry? About?"

  "Interrupting your morning."

  I snorted. "I should probably thank you. I would have overslept more."

  "Oversleeping, huh? Is that what you're calling it?"

  I looked at her, and she was giving me her "I'm a Detective" look that she planted on her suspects. I waved my cheesy bread knife at her. "I seriously have no idea what this look is all about." I shoved the bagel in my mouth. It was so warm and chewy, the cream cheese rich and tangy.

  "So, you didn't know that our favorite neighbor, Jack, slept here last night?"

  I choked on my perfectly delicious bagel. Corbin pounded on my back till I waved my hand in surrender. I chugged down another tankard of coffee. "Jack was where?"

  I looked at Rajah who was uncharacteristically distant on my reading couch, away from all the delicious-smelling foods. He buried his head in the blankets. I turned back to Corbin.

  At least she had the decency to look uncertain. "Uhm, here? You didn't know?"

  "Does this look like the face of someone in the know?"

  "Huh. Well. This is awkward." At my look she stammered on. "I didn't have my keyring ready, so he must have heard me outside jabbering on the phone with you, and opened the door for me. He was the one who let me in. He literally left like ten seconds before I walked into your bedroom. He said he would've stayed to eat, but had to catch up with some clients. You didn't know?"

  I just shook my head bewildered. I grabbed the carafe to pour myself another cup, but it was empty.

  "The other pot should be done soon. Let me check." Corbin went to the kitchen.

  Huh.

  So, the first ten minutes of the day, I found out that I overslept. Jack had been here, presumably all night. Corbin brought me breakfast.

  And, now there was no coffee.

  Something was seriously wrong with the universe.

  I agreed to tag along with Corbin. I said goodbye to Rajah and he was coated in amber and spice. "Why, you'll sleep with any warm body, won't you?" He licked my chin and curled up on my reading couch.

  Traitor.

  "Be good to Tracy. Try not to pull her into traffic today, okay?" I gave Rajah another kiss, and left Tracy, his walker, her to-do list and a hefty tip. She would earn it today.

  We battled traffic going to the Upper West Side to the Sanderson home. Corbin was in fine driving form, her swearing even had a kind of poetry to it. When we finally got to the quiet neighborhood, she was loose and warm and ready to go. She even stretched her neck and limbered up like she did before she rolled into the boxing ring in her gym.

  I shook my head at her and got out of the car. Shadows caught my eye, out of place from the stream of sunshine overhead. But, when I looked, nothing seemed amiss. I needed more sleep.

  We parked in front of The Capitol, an exclusive luxury address that Corbin classified as “hoity-toity” with residents to match. It was charming in the old New York way, more brick and artwork rather than the modern amenities of the new high rises. I'd applied for an apartment here, but ultimately chose La Serenissima.

  The fact that Corbin would have never felt comfortable here had sealed my decision.

  The doorman came out, with the air of a mortician, and a haughty sniff to match. "This…car…cannot remain here."

  Corbin raised an eyebrow. She was nearly giddy with bloodthirsty glee. And, though I'd rather indulge her, I felt like diplomacy would win here for her visits in the near future.

  I smiled, catching the doorman's attention and clasped his extended hand. "Good morning, Mr. Olivan," I said, eyeing his name badge. "It's so good to see you again."

  He had the traditional uniform of a doorman, complete with gloves, but with a little more push, his frosty exterior melted. A minute later, he stood guard at the sidewalk, swearing that nothing would happen to the car on his watch.

  Corbin pouted as we strode through the doors toward the elevator. "I wanted to yell."

  "There are many ways to skin a cat."

  "They better hope it doesn't come down to skinning," she huffed and jabbed the elevator buttons.

  I shook my head. There’d be plenty more people Corbin could skewer.

  The Sandersons lived on the second floor. The nanny opened the door. I found the double duty for a nanny-as-butler a little odd. The Sandersons were wealthy and respectable enough to get approved to live here; they would also be the types to have at least a housekeeper or butler along with a nanny.

  "I'm afraid Mrs. Sanderson's not up for guests at the moment."

  Corbin flashed her badge. "Well, it's a good thing we're not guests, then." She pushed her way in, and I followed in her wa
ke. The nanny didn't have the will to stop Corbin, not like she could have even if she tried. She closed the door behind us.

  Corbin looked the nanny up and down. "So, what's your name?"

  The bloom of something old and musty filled the foyer. Fear was never a pleasant scent. On her, it smelled like a well-used boy's locker room that had never been cleaned. "Mira."

  I strained to hear her voice.

  "Mira." Corbin nodded as if validating the name. "Do you nannies work on opposite shifts?"

  Confusion sparked a heavy musty scent from her. Mira shrugged. "I'm not sure on the schedules?"

  "I only ask because you weren't here last night. Some other chick was."

  "Oh," Mira squeaked. "She didn't show up this morning. That's why I'm here." A yell from the other room. "If you'll excuse me. I'll let Mrs. Sanderson know you're here." She spoke that last bit mainly to her chest before scurrying off after Corbin's nod.

  I hadn't been there for the initial death messenger conversation. I was a little disappointed that I wasn't asked to assist. Then again, I was getting over seeing a man being blown up by an unseen power, so Corbin must have thought it would be best to do it without me. It wasn't like I rolled out with her for all of her interviews, but I hoped she had some back up with her.

  A crash followed by breaking glass sounded from the other room. Corbin and I exchanged a look before heading deeper into the house uninvited. I took in the art, the original architectural details, and the furniture. My eyes were drawn to a painting in an alcove of the front sitting room. It was not what I had expected. The feel of something else had been there recently. The feel of something I had created.

  A blonde woman dressed in a satin robe and heels teetered into the room.

  "Oh!" she said, her mouth in an exaggerated ‘O’. "Mira said there were police, but she didn't mention you, Detective. Please, please sit down." She slurred her words. A lot. The sharp, acrid scent of her bitterness was barely veiled by the alcohol she had evidently bathed in.

  "Mira! Coffee!"

  I bit my lip. Hard. I wanted the coffee, sure. I always accepted any offer for coffee. But not at the expense of an employee’s dignity. "Mrs. Sanderson, thank you for the offer, but it's not necessary."