Light the Shadows (A Grimm Novel)

by Clay, Michelle

  Sully accepted the challenge. He ran a finger along her slit, gathering the silken moisture pooled there. “Mmm, you’re so wet.”

  He stroked the delicate bud with his thumb until she was clawing at his shoulders and rocking her hips. With the other hand, he traced the outline of her labia then ever so slowly slid a finger inside her. She clung to his shoulders, certain she would pass out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

  His fingers curled inside her, touching something that made what little poise she clung to shatter completely. When another finger slid inside, she was lost to it. She was swept away on a wave of passion as he thrust his fingers in and out of her. His free hand searched out her swollen clit. The pad of his thumb circled and rubbed the sensitive area. Paired with his thrusting fingers, it nearly drove her insane.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she could do was rock against Sully’s wicked fingers and … oh!

  Micah’s legs locked around his hips, heels digging into his ass as her insides quivered, and she lost all sensation except in that one deliciously sensitive area. Eyes squished shut, she breathed his name on a shaky whisper. When her entire body tensed and she was sure she couldn’t take any more, Sully removed the fingers that had given her such mind-melting pleasure.

  Micah cried out in despair. Surely he wouldn't leave her longing for so much more. Before she could voice her needs, he gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her forward on the countertop.

  She reached for the gorgeous man standing in front of her, pressing her palm against the erection behind the zipper of his jeans. “Sully, I need you.”

  His hands left her momentarily. The growl of the zipper was music to her ears. Grey gaze smoldering, he asked, "Is this what you need, Micah?"

  She kissed him hard and breathed into his mouth. “God, yes!”

  With one hand between them, she smoothed fingers down his length. Using her thumb, she stroked the head of his cock, spreading pre-cum over its head. It jumped in her hand, thick and ready.

  Micah buried her face in Sully’s shoulder and groaned with pleasure as the head of his cock nudged at her entrance. This was really happening.

  “Micah?” Someone screeched from the front of the house. The jangle of keys rattled her nerves.

  It took a second for her to realize what was going on. She and Sully had just a moment to look at one another in confusion before the front door flew open.

  “Oh my God! What are you doing here, Nancy—er, Mom?” Micah squealed as she scrambled out of Sully’s embrace then ran for the back hall. She snatched her clothing from the floor and struggled to cover herself. Nancy barging in and finding her doing the nasty on the breakfast bar with her panties hanging around one ankle was unexpected! Hadn’t the woman thought to call first?

  Micah was reduced to feeling like she was in high school again and had been caught making out beneath the bleachers. She was twenty-four years old, damn it. She shouldn’t feel embarrassed or awkward for living her own life … even if it was borrowed.

  When she came back into the kitchen, Nancy looked at her in disbelief then glanced at Sully with saucer-sized eyes. In Micah’s opinion, her mom’s gaze lingered just a fraction too long at the man candy standing on the other side of the breakfast bar. Thank goodness it served as a barrier between him and Nancy. He might scare her with the size of that erection. At least he'd had time to button his pants.

  “Nancy Farris,” her mom said in a no-nonsense voice.

  Sully arched an eyebrow, but seemed undaunted. “James Sullivan.”

  Nancy looked like a wary mama bear as she stared up at him. Finally, her gaze slid in Micah’s direction. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “It’s kind of late. What are you doing here, Mom?” Micah asked, not bothering to disguise the venom in her voice. You didn’t get to the point she and Sully had been at then get interrupted without feeling bitter about it. Shaking and left unsatisfied, she tried to turn off all the parts Sully had so expertly turned on.

  “I’ve been calling all week, Micah. You haven’t returned my phone calls, and I was worried something was wrong.” Nancy’s shoulders dropped and she sighed. “Roger said you probably just needed some time to sort things out, but now I see what had you so preoccupied.”

  “Everything is okay, Mom. I had a little car trouble tonight,” she lied. “And Sully brought me home. That’s all. I must have left my phone in the car.”

  Nancy moved around the bar then allowed her gaze to drift from Sully’s boots, past his rumpled shirt to his tousled hair. She pursed her lips, clearly not believing Micah’s story. Instead of arguing, she jerked the fridge open and peered inside. “Are you taking care of yourself, getting enough to eat? You’ve lost a lot of weight since the accident.”

  “Mom,” Micah said with just the right amount of warning in her voice.

  Nancy’s brow creased. “Do you want me to make you some casseroles or something you can snack on throughout the week? You used to like it when I did that."

  Micah filled with remorse when she noticed Sully edging around the counter. He was going to leave. Anxious dread filled her gut as Sully’s gaze swept past her toward the door that would lead to his freedom. He said nothing, and she just knew he’d take off at the first opportunity. Nancy must think she could run him off by sticking around and waiting him out. Damn it, she is probably right.

  Nancy looked through the pantry and cupboards. Seeming to approve of their contents, she crossed the short distance to her daughter. She tucked a stray hair behind Micah’s ear. “What have you done to your hair?”

  Micah lifted a hand to run fingers through her finger-tangled locks. It felt ten times lighter now that it wasn’t hanging past her shoulders. With the messy chin length style she’d chosen, it was a hell of a lot more stylish, too. “I needed a change.”

  Nancy looked at the highlighted tendrils around her daughter's face. Then she placed her hands on Micah’s upper arms and leaned close to gaze into her eyes.

  “What?” Micah asked, feeling squirmy beneath Nancy’s close scrutiny. Did she suspect something?

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Sully walk out the front door without so much as a glance in her direction. Micah’s spirits crashed and burned. Would she ever see him again?

  “What about bills? Do you need money, sweetheart?”

  Micah’s brow puckered. Jeez, did the old Micah rely on her parents for everything? Nancy cooked her meals, and Roger paid for the whole shebang? “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  The front door clicked closed behind Sully. Would Nancy be offended if Micah ran after him?

  Nancy followed Micah’s gaze then said, “Who was that guy?”

  Micah bit her bottom lip. How do you tell your faux mom that he's probably the hottest guy you’ve ever met and he was about to bang your brains out … until she walked in and ruined the moment. In fact, she was still shaking from Sully’s kiss, his touch, and the abrupt way he’d walked out. Thanks to Nancy, he’d left her unsatisfied, and she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. Cold showers and self-love wasn’t going to cure the burn Sully had ignited within her.

  Her mom bent to rummage beneath the sink. She found a bottle of spray cleanser then squirted the cabinets, including the breakfast bar. She glanced at Micah then wiped it with a wad of paper towels. "It’s just that I've never seen him before."

  “He’s just, ah, he’s a friend.” This was so hard. “A new friend.”

  Nancy’s lips twitched until finally she couldn’t hold back a smug smile. “I hope you’re being careful with your new friend.”

  “Mom!” Micah’s cheeks burned with embarrassment because she knew deep down that having sex with Sully was probably a foolish thing to do. “It’s not like that.”

  Now she looked serious again. “I just want you to get better, sweetie. I don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important—and that’s you. Just don’t try to do too much too fast, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt. Physica
lly or emotionally. Just take it slow."

  Not knowing what came over her, Micah pulled Nancy into a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Nancy seemed a bit taken aback by the impromptu hug. She hesitated a split second then her arms closed around Micah. "I don't know what's come over you, but it's nice."

  A few minutes later when Micah walked Nancy to the door, Nancy said, “I’m sorry I barged in on you like that. That must have been pretty humiliating.”

  “It’s okay.” Micah offered a genuine smile. “It was probably for the best.”

  Nancy took a deep, calming breath then met Micah’s gaze. “You are so different since the accident, almost like a whole different person. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

  Micah simply stared back at her, sensing she needed to say this.

  “I’m trying to be patient, trying to understand what’s happening. Just know that if you need anything at all, I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

  Nancy bounced down the steps then turned to look at Micah once more. “Oh and don’t forget, Roger and I are having an anniversary dinner Sunday. It’s nothing big, just a barbecue.”

  “I’ll be there.” Micah tried to look inconspicuous as she looked for Sully, but he and his motorcycle were long gone.

  Nancy winked. “You can bring your friend if you’d like. I’m sure Roger would like to meet him.”

  Micah smiled awkwardly. Oh yeah, she could just see her fake dad giving “the talk” to her fake boyfriend.

  Chapter Nine

  Sully stared out across the city lights and frowned. Each time he had a clue that might direct him to Thomas's whereabouts, it fell through.

  Tonight's attempt at locating him had been a huge waste of time. He followed a lead to a rowdy dive bar where the bartender said a man fitting his friend’s description had come in a couple nights ago. Thomas had arrived alone and ordered a beer, but hadn't stayed long enough to drink it. The bartender said Thomas had seemed nervous and kept looking at the door like he expected someone to bust through at any moment. The guy had laughed and said the way Thomas was acting, he thought maybe he’d slept with one of the biker's girlfriends and expected to get his ass kicked.

  Sully went back to his friend’s apartment, certain he'd missed some clue that would reveal where Thomas had gone. He tore through Thomas's belongings and the paperwork in the study, but found nothing. Not even the tiniest hint.

  "Where the hell are you?" His murmured words were carried away on the warm night breeze. He leaned against the balcony, nursing a beer, and watched as one by one the neighboring lights went off.

  A while later, Sully found himself in Thomas’s study again. Not only was his best friend’s disappearance eating away at him, but something else as well. What Micah had done with her hands, the white light that had emanated from them and had driven the shadows away, intrigued him. He’d witnessed Thomas do it as well, but not on such a large scale.

  Sully stood in front of the bookshelf in search of a particular book. He’d seen something earlier, a picture of a man kneeling and holding his hands out. In the drawing, several ghost-like figures appeared frightened by the rays of light coming from his open palms. At the time, Sully had been on a mission and of a one track mind. Now as he scooted the books around with the toe of his boot and pawed through the ones on the desk, he cursed his stupidity.

  Pulling a cracked leather-bound journal from beneath the desk, he laid it on the smooth surface. A Grimm, he read, oftentimes worked closely with Reapers. Grimms were the ones charged with getting rid of shadows either by talking them into crossing over or by using force. They could combat the misguided spirits and their persuasion with the white light that came from within them. Grimms were a special few who were handpicked by Azrael himself. The first Grimm had been documented around the sixteenth century.

  Sully stopped on one of Thomas’s handwritten entries in the journal.

  It is with great sadness that I report the reaping of a fellow Grimm. I am troubled not because he will be dead and gone, not because the beautiful white light will be snuffed. I am saddened because of the circumstances that led to his demise. This man, who once was a pillar of good faith and just judgment, has now fallen from Azrael’s grace. My mentor has grown sedentary and no longer seeks out those souls that have become lost. He no longer hears their cries for peace and rest. He refuses to do the work commissioned by Azrael. In being so pigheaded, he has bastardized the Grimm's reverence. Azrael is angry and demands retribution. He has sent a Reaper, a woman, no less, to put an end to this man. This Grimm Reaper claims it is an honor to serve the angel of death. I do not share the Reaper’s elation. This is a sad day for my brethren. Azrael has demanded the head of this Grimm. Will he not demand the same of others who do not do his bidding?

  Thomas St. Clair, Winter 1587

  Sully closed the old leather bound book and scooted it across the desk. So, Micah was a Grimm. Maybe. He slammed his fist against the wood, rattling the cup of pens and pencils atop it. Where the hell was Thomas? There was so much he wanted to ask him, so many answers left to learn.

  And what of Micah? He’d come close to fucking her a few nights ago. Hell, he’d had his fingers buried deep inside her, and she’d been oh so willing. The scent of her arousal and those tiny little moans haunted him. His cock twitched with the memory of nearly being inside her. Dropping his head in his hands, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

  Sully knew it should never have gone that far. The problem was it had, and now Micah Munroe was an itch he couldn’t scratch. She had touched upon something he thought was dead and buried—something that should have stayed dead and buried. His heart. He’d gotten the hell out of there because he hadn’t wanted to get emotionally attached to this woman. If anything, his plan had backfired, filling his head with a million what ifs and the memory of her kiss.

  Sully didn’t know how long he sat there with his head in his hands. The blast of a car horn outside the open balcony doors made him cringe. The frigid air that rolled across the room barely registered before he heard the whispers.

  “Sully?” A female child whispered in a sing-song voice. "James Sullivan!"

  He opened his eyes and sat up, glancing around. The vaguely familiar voice must belong to a shadow, but he hadn’t located it yet.

  “Isn’t it frustrating when the truth is staring you right in the face, but you’re too blind to see it?” A girl of about twelve drifted out of the bookcase. Though she was mostly translucent, he could still see the gashes on her face and the bruising around her throat. The front of her frilly dress was stained black.

  Sully scrambled up out of the chair.

  Her dead doll-like eyes were trained solely on him. “Do you want to know the truth, Uncle Sully?”

  He didn’t have time for these games. “Go away.”

  The little girl giggled then disappeared. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived.

  More voices spoke all at once. All calling him an imbecile and accusing him of being blind. The girl reappeared only a few feet from him. Her oversized grin was a bit alarming as he backed away from the desk.

  “You won’t find your friend,” a tall, thin man whispered then ran at him. He disappeared just short of mowing Sully down. He reappeared on the other side of the room. “St. Clair is gone.”

  “Forever,” the spirits said as one. Their laughter echoed throughout the room.

  “What have you done to him?” Sully allowed the scythe to slip into his hand. His fingers curled around its smooth, wooden handle and infused him with a sense of calm despite the danger he was in.

  The little girl’s gaze followed the movement. Her giggles were a high-pitched sound that hurt his ears. “Are you not happy to see me, Uncle?”

  A woman with a garish chelsea smile dashed toward him. “You can’t protect the woman either. You’re useless. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Wrong. He could get the hell out of there. And if he ever found Thom
as, his friend was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

  More shadows swarmed into the room and circled him, their haunting voices rising and falling. Their number made it difficult to discern a single word. Instead, the sound became a loud buzz that made the skin on the back of his neck prickle and his head ache.

  “What do you want?” he asked as he continued to back away. The spiteful spirits had him penned. There was nowhere to go. They blocked the one doorway that led out, and the only other choice was the balcony. Thomas’s apartment was on the second floor. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell for a few minutes. He cast a quick glance over a shoulder. Good, the door was still open.

  The woman with the chelsea smile surged forward. “More.”

  “More?” He felt stupid just asking and judging by the way her brows dipped downward, she thought so, too.

  “More like us,” the little girl shouted as she appeared in front of him. Her fingers were hooked like claws. She slashed at him just as the smiling woman grabbed for him. Panicking just a little, Sully slashed the air between them with the scythe. Both shadows dissipated, but he knew they’d be back.

  The others roared at the indignity of it. Together, they rushed Sully, creating a wall of shadows that shut out everything beyond them. He began to feel the pull of their morose suggestions, the lull of their chilling desires. Slashing at them, his scythe did nothing to deter them. They parted then rushed him again. Sully scrambled backward just as they gave him a shove with their combined effort.

  He toppled over the ledge of the balcony. His limbs felt weightless then suddenly too heavy. Just before he struck the concrete, a sickening realization hit him. He’d be at the mercy of whoever came along. Or worse, the ghoulish shadows, if they pursued him.

  He hit the ground with a bone jarring thud that knocked the air from his lungs and cracked the concrete beneath him. Black dots swam across his vision, and for a moment he feared he might lose consciousness. His entire body ached as he sucked in a much needed breath then allowed his gaze to flick toward the surrounding apartments. Most were dark at this late hour, and the ones that weren’t had curtains drawn. Luckily, he’d fallen next to the pool, which was in the courtyard and away from the street’s view.