Outcasts (Badlands 3)

The death shit didn’t count. Death was nothing but an appointment that couldn’t be cancelled. It was a natural part of life that too many saw as unnatural.

In death, life still meant what it always had. The definition didn’t suddenly change. Death was nothing but an inescapable fate. We were all going to be ash and bone in the end, I just happened to hand out the ultimatums.

One day, I’d be like everyone else, nothing but a rotting corpse. I was a demon, a nightmare that would eventually meet a tragic end. It was inevitable.

But that wasn’t fucking today.

Until now I hadn’t gave much thought about the years beyond. Now, I had someone to offer the world to.

She was willing to reign over the dead right beside me. By time we sank into the ground, they’d whisper fables about us.

Having what I needed from Tucker, I headed for the stairs, telling Cobra we were leaving as soon as the acolytes arrived and to meet me upstairs in ten minutes.

I didn’t want Brat in this fucking place, but it made the most sense for a rendezvous point. This was our town, specifically for me.

Cobra had one a few miles east. Romero had done it so we always had places to regroup if need be. Usually, it was the three of us. Shit had certainly changed.

Using my key, I unlocked the room door and stepped inside.

She was lying on the bed wrapped in a towel. Her hair was fanned out around her head, long lashes closed over her eyes.

How the fuck could anyone want to change her? How could I ever doubt what she’d become? Any version of her was beautiful. She was a goddess, a masterpiece. Fuck anyone who’d never seen it.

I walked to the bed, reached down, and ran my finger over the line on her neck. Her eyes flew open, and the second she saw me, she smiled, showing a mouthful of pearls.

“When do we leave?” she asked, bouncing up like a cork screw.

“Calm down, killer.” I chuckled at her enthusiasm.

She launched herself at me, unashamedly letting her towel fall away as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Brat, I was gone less than an hour.”

“Shut up and let me cling.”

I kissed the side of her face and she leaned into it like she always did, starving for affection. As her man, it was my job to make her never want for a damn thing––starting with that, which reminded me of something I shouldn’t have said.

“Why fairies?” I asked her, tracing the one on her arm.

“I like the idea of things that have the freedom to fly away.”

“Because you couldn’t.”

She nodded, touching the one a little lower. “This is my winged succubus; I only got it because she looked badass.”

She lifted her shoulder where a dragon was wrapped around the symmetrical black and white circle that represented yin and yang.

“Guessin you know all about this one.”

Then, she held up her wrist. “My henna owl, cause she’s majestic, wise, and rare.”

“Like you,” I said, leaning in and trailing kisses down her neck. She smelled like fucking peaches.

“I’m not fuckin wise, Grimm,” she laughed.

“But you’re majestic and rare?” I moved to her chest.

“Well, kinda.” She shrugged. “Now tell me somethin about you. And make it good.” I heard the slight change in her breath, felt her pulse jump. Her hands settled on my shoulders as I moved lower, kissing and suckling on her golden skin.