Chapter One

My eyes flipped open and I found myself staring up at the pale ceiling, sweat tickling my neck, making hair stick to the sides of my face. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, my scream a silent lips open, vocal cords frozen. I couldn't move, couldn't call out, couldn't breath. I was paralyzed, and yet, even with the physical rigidity of fear lancing my body, my mind wasn't at all surprised.

Sleep paralysis was no big surprise to me by now. It had happened almost every night in the past, and while it had faded over the years, it had started up again about a year ago and had yet to leave me the fuck alone.

Thankfully, Alaric was always awake before me and didn't have to witness what probably looked like a stiff corpse in bed. I could hear him downstairs, moving around the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone. I could smell hot cinnamon buns baking in the oven, the sound of the fridge creaking open as Alaric pulled out his carton of chocolate milk, pouring it into one of those tall wavy glasses he bought on sale.

On the nightstand beside me, the analog clock ticked away at the seconds, a droning insanity that pissed me off. I focused on the room around me to bring myself steadily out of the frozen state. The smell of Alaric's shampoo. Of the ashtray next to the bed Alaric used when I wasn't home, little mounds of ash and smashed cigarettes sticking up like towers among the gray and black hills. The leftover smell of Pine Sol from the maid yesterday. The Novaya Zarya cologne I started wearing back in 1980. A warm spicy scent with balsamic undertones.

The matte sage paint on the walls, white baseboards and moulding. Dark wood dresser and armoire, end tables. The small built in closet partially opened. The ugly ass lamp I purposely got from some redneck concert in Alabama with friends. Alaric hated it. I loved driving him nuts.

As I laid there, focusing on the details of the room, on Alaric's voice downstairs, I slowly felt my muscles loosening up. I was finally able to close my mouth with the crack of my jaw. I blinked a few times, then reached up slow with a shaking hand, pushing my sweaty hair back from my face. I sucked in a shuddering breath, then slowly sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed.

Not wanting to be stuck still for a second longer, I got up and started moving, rolling my shoulders as I made my way into the bathroom for a piss, then dressing in a pair of black jeans, a black muscle shirt, and a zipped up my boots. I headed downstairs just as Alaric was taking cinnamon buns out of the oven.

I pulled up short, drawing back to take a good gander at his ass. Absolutely perfect, round and firm and great for groping. Overfilled your palms. And it looked fantastic in a pair of tight dark jeans, gave a cute little peek at a pair of lacy pale blue panties that begged to be untied at the sides and dropped to the floor. I ran my tongue across my bottom lip, slipping into the kitchen as Alaric stood up and set the buns-- cinnamon buns, not his buns-- on the rack on the counter top. He tossed an oven mitt on the counter before dropping his hand on his hip.

"No, I double checked the orders," he said sternly, his back still to me as I crept over to sniff at the cinnamon buns, then turned to watch him scowl, "Are you questioning my ability to run my force? Yeah, I thought so. No, I ordered R12s, not R20s. There's a huge difference. The frequency of the 20s are way too high. Do you want my men to go deaf while trying to protect this realm? I want the R12s and I want my money back from those shitty 20s. Upgrades my ass. Those things are ancient in comparison to the 12s. The 12s reach other realms. The 20s only reach six realms, of which I have no business with. So I'm telling you again. 12s, not 20s. 12s, not 20s. If I don't have my money back and those R12s by the end of this week, I'm not only going to shit all over your half-wit company, I'm going to take my business to your competitors. Yes. I know what that means. I'll call you when I give a shit. End of this week, Ray, or your ass is gonna fry." Alaric hung up, taking a frustrating deep breath.

I inched up behind him with the intention of startling him, only for him to roll his eyes.

"You can't sneak up on me, Stanton," he chided. I blew a raspberry, making him laugh, and he only laughed more when I caught him around the waist and hoisted him up, putting him on the counter by the fridge and leaning in to get in his face. He smiled at me, his deep set hazel eyes gleaming and his stark white hair falling around his face, save for his bangs that he'd clipped back from his face. I tilted my head up, capturing his perfect soft lips in a kiss, feeling his tongue brush my bottom lip.

I growled, deepening the kiss, taking over his soft mouth, leading his tongue where I wanted it to go, and he let me. His eyebrows tilted up, his breath becoming desperate, his hands sliding off the counter and to rest on my arms. I broke free to let him breath, his cheeks flushed, his lips pinkened, his eyes sparkling. He licked his lips as I moved kissed down to his throat, savoring the vibration when he cleared his throat.

"Your dad called," he said suddenly. I froze.

Wow. Talk about a fucking boner killer.

Nobody wanted to hear about their dad during a makeout session.

Nobody wanted to hear about their fucking psycho backstabbing piece of shit dad, especially.

I sighed, annoyed as fuck that he would bring that asshole up now while we were just getting hot and heavy and after I'd clearly set down the rules involving the damned demon. I went through them in my head, just to make sure they were as clear as I thought they were.

Don't fucking bring him up. Ever. I hated the bastard and no amount of lovey-dovey, psychotherapy was ever going to make me change my mind.

Alaric had no idea what Xiphrus had done to his own family, his own people. He didn't see the carnage, the misery, the torture. He didn't have night terrors, eons later, about the whole thing. He wasn't there when Xiphrus had shown up at my door, just days before the first battle, telling me that if I didn't side with him, that he would not only disown me, but use my corpse to decorate Atlan's front porch.

He didn't know. Nobody knew, except the people who were there. And I don't just mean physically, like Joxeia. Joxeia was there and he fought and he struggled, but the bastard was awfully good at shutting out his own mental process on the fucking thing. He wasn't mentally there to feel the pain, the betrayal. Sure, he felt it, but it was numbed. And that's why he was dumb enough to fall for Xiphrus's empty apologies.

But not me.

I didn't have the luxury of shutting off my humanity like Joxeia did.

I was there; mind, body, and soul.

So yeah. I thought I'd made it pretty clear that talking about my dad was off limits. Just like talking about cigarettes and Hades was off limits for him. He liked both of those things, and I hated both of them, so I didn't talk about them. So why did he think it was okay to talk about Xiphrus?

"Before you get mad," Alaric started, making me wipe a hand down my face, already fed up with the conversation before it had even started, "It sounded really urgent. He said he's been trying to get a hold of you, but your number wasn't working."

Because I fucking blocked his ass.

"Anyway," Alaric went on, eyeing me warily now as I watched him in irritated silence, "He says he needs you to come to Heaven as soon as you can. It has to do with this whole Viviana mess."

I'd already wasted enough time on that crap. Clearly it was just another leftover shitbomb Xiphrus had left behind and stirred up again. Because that's just who he was. He got hooked on the evil and couldn't quit it.

He was an addict. He was addicted to the trouble, addicted to the evil. He said he saw goodness in it all, everyone had goodness in their hearts, and he pursued it when there was clearly no goodness, no light, nothin'. Just a whole lot of dark evil shit.

No. I was not going to get involved with it. Not this time. Alaric was the only thing I had left. If Xiphrus fucked this up for me, if he got Alaric killed, fuck the rest of the universe. I was done, and I would take everything with me while slitting Xiphrus's throat.

I was not going to risk Alaric's life because Xiphrus had dove into another shitpool. It wasn't my business. I had nothing to do with it. As long as this Viviana stayed away from Alaric, it wasn't on my agenda.

"You're quiet," Alaric said softly. I glanced at him. He looked nervous. He was afraid of making me angry, and I hated that this happened. I hated that he was afraid of making me angry. But I also hated how naive he could be. He didn't know what kind of evil this universe was capable of. He'd already experienced a tiny bit of it from Hades, from Tartarus, Atlan. I didn't want anything or anyone else poisoning him. I had to protect him.

Even if it meant getting angry.

"It's none of our business," I told him at last, heading over to the coat rack just inside the kitchen, sweeping my long black duster off it, giving it a shake, and throwing it on, "Tell him thanks, but no thanks." Actually, I wanted Alaric to tell him to fuck off and rot in hell, but Alaric was too nice for that. He fell for Xiphrus's goody-two-shoes facade. Because he was naive.

"Don't do that," Alaric said, hopping off the countertop and walking over to me as I brushed my hair back out of my face and went to the built in shelves to grab my gym bag off the bottom one, "Stanton, please. I want to talk about this. He sounded really worried. What if he comes to see you?" I froze at the thought of Xiphrus showing up on my property.

So far, he was smart enough to stay away. I wasn't dumb as to think he wouldn't know where I lived. He did. Always had. No matter where I went. Because I was an echo in his blood. But he knew better than to show his sorry face to me at my home, where my husband lived with me. He knew I'd beat him bloody.

But if this was as dire as he claimed it was, would he actually show up here?

I turned to Alaric, who hesitated, clear wariness in those hazel eyes. Apparently the look on my face was creepy, because he had goose bumps. I didn't pretend to not be angry about it, though.

"If he shows up here, get to your father's place. Call me immediately. Just make sure you get away from him."

"Stanton, don't be like that--"

"I'm not kidding, Alaric. If he shows up here, you have to leave."

"I don't have to do anything," Alaric threw back, getting angry now himself and stepping closer to bump against me, trying to size me up even though he was a good foot shorter than me and only reached my chest, "First of all, I'm not your princess that you can just lock up in a tower. Second of all, you don't tell me what to do. And third of all, quit being a fucking pussy and talk to your dad. Oh, and you can forget about sleeping in the bed tonight. Cuz fuck you." He emphasized his point by shoving me hard in the chest, taking a step back. He snatched up his glass of milk and a cinnamon bun and started for the living room. I narrowed my eyes, walking after him, but stopping in the hallway outside the living room.

"Okay, then by your logic, I can sleep wherever the fuck I want," I snapped at him, unable to let him just leave the conversation with having the last word. Alaric laughed at that as he set his things down on the coffee table and picked up the remote, casting me a disdainful glare.

"Yeah? Just try and get in bed with me tonight and see what happens."

"I'm fucking Death."

"No, I'll be the one fucking Death," Alaric returned. I fumed. Mouthy little brat. He always had to have the last word and he always had to have his way and goddamn that silver tongue of his.

Fed up with him and this whole day already, I snatched up my bag again and left the house, slamming the door shut behind me.

"Real fucking mature, Stanton!" Came Alaric's shout through the open living room window, further applying pressure to my nerves. Tensing up, I turned to glare at him through the window where he'd turned the channels to the local news.

"Fuck you!" I threw at him, to which he replied by turning up the television so loud, I could distinctly hear news anchor, Ashley Wyatt, and her twangy American Alabaman accent. I turned back around, just in time to see the neighbors outside with their kids, all of them staring at us, and one of them covering the ears of their youngest child while the eldest just stood with his mouth hanging open.

Great. We'll be hearing about this from the neighborhood pretty committee.

As soon as I reached the main street, I vanished from our neighborhood just a block down from the palace and reappeared in my favorite gym. It wasn't that fancy, a basic brick building with plain white walls, one wall entirely made up of mirrors, as if the people working out weren't self-conscious enough. Blue mats, plus six types of exercise equipment, and a couple doors that led to locker rooms.

I made my way to the peeling painted locker room door and ducked inside. I switched out of my usual clothing and into a black tank top and sweatpants. I snatched my phone out of my bag, plugging in a set of earbuds, burying them in my ears and cranking up Eminem's Cinderella Man. With the loud rap blasting my eardrums, I hopped on the first treadmill I saw and set the speed to a hard sprint. My body immediately welcomed the work out, considering I was a combination of pissed the fuck off and still queasy from the sleep paralysis.

My muscles worked right up to the proper speed, my sneakers pounding the grainy belt that whizzed by below, my arms pumping at my sides. I kept my eyes locked ahead of me on the television that was playing some cheap local soap opera about vampire and werewolves and a single human. If I recalled correctly, it was called Living with the Human. Akin loved this show. His favorite character was Ed and the human, Malia. Probably because Malia was a Dominant and Ed was curious about being a Submissive. The whole show was a melting pot of different shit and it was particularly appealing to liberal folk. It wasn't bad, but some of the shit was uncomfortable. I could only handle so much of that stuff before I felt naked and exposed.

The smell of smoke eventually forced me off the treadmill. I examined the machine, pronounced it dead as a doornail, and gave a slip to the front desk to inform them of their faulty machine. I moved onto the pec deck, settling down against the seat, grabbing the bars and drawing them forward as MIMS's It's Alright flooded my ears. The bass felt good, like it was traveling through my body, right down to my toes. I tightened my grip on the bars, dragging them back, then bringing them forward, nodding my head in time with the song.

I lost track of how long I sat there, hefting more and more weight as I cranked it up with the side panel. It wasn't until I felt a presence approach me that I slowed the work out to look up, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips as I recognized the two males that came toward me from across the room.

The first one was nearly the size of a tank, incredibly ripped with rich dark skin stretched tight over bulging muscles, glistening with sweat, and his dreadlocks secured with a tight leather cord. His name was Shemar, a werewolf from South Africa. He was dressed in black cargos and an army green tank. Beside him was Lance, a werewolf from the same pack. His skin was a slightly lighter shade, and marked up with enough tattoos that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other started. His dark hair was cut in a tight skull trim, a goatee making up his facial hair, cut precisely. He doned a baggy black t-shirt with a black/white picture of Snoop Dogg and pair of designer distressed jeans.

I'd met the brothers six hundred years ago when their pack had been partially wiped out due to invaders from Europe. After taking them to a sister pack where they were safe and raised through their first change, they had come and found me time and time again. For nothing more than a beer and a meal, maybe some chicks. Or at least, up until recently when I'd announced my marriage to Alaric and invited the two bastards to my wedding where they proceeded to eat just about everything on the buffet.

That was the thing with werewolves. Bottomless pits.

I plucked my earbuds out, rising to my feet to greet them.

"Hey, D," Shemar greeted me first, taking me by the arm and giving me a bro hug that I returned. I moved onto Lance, who gripped me a lot harder before stepping back after giving me a smack on the back.

"Damn," he commented, glancing over at the busted treadmill, "Trouble in paradise, my brother?"

"I'm having an off day," I drawled, heading over to the towel rack and snatching one down to wipe the sweat off my face, "What're you two doin' here?"

"Decided it was time to drop by and piss you off," Lance responded with a snort, "But it looks like someone beat us to it. Goddamn." He smacked Shemar playfully and Shemar smirked as I rolled my eyes, tossing the towel in the nearby bin.

"Ight, well, I haven't had breakfast yet," I started. Lance looked positively miffed.

"Breakfast? Boy, it's fuckin' noon. Whatchu talkin' about you ain't eat nothin' yet?" He demanded, to which I shook my head and gestured back to the treadmill. Lance studied the thing, then shrugged, giving me a free pass on his usual tongue lashing of eat more, you skinny white boy.

"Lemme jump in the shower real quick and meet you guys outside," I told them, earning a nod from each. I went to the locker rooms and hopped in, then changed back into my usual clothing. Seeing as I was not ready to go back home anytime soon, I dumped my shit in a locker, adding a locking spell and a trap to the padlock on the door. I left, walking outside into the summer heat. The sunshine was a wicked ball of flames in the sky, beating down on the city below, not a single cloud in sight. I turned to see Shemar lounging against the brick wall, arms folded over his chest, and Lance lighting up a blunt.

"You boys treating me or do I have to cover the bill this time?" I asked. Lance looked me from head to toe, then looked at Shemar, who shrugged. He was quieter than his brother, but perhaps more lethal. Lance was all for stealing shit, like my first three cell phones, and a car I had sitting in storage in the mortal realm, but killing was a little too much for him. Now, Shemar on the other hand... Blood was no surprise to him. Considering he'd been the one who had to kill in order to protect Lance when they were pups.

"We got this," Lance decided, smoking out his blunt, then dropping it on the ground and smashing it into the crack of the sidewalk, "Looks like you had a shit day already anyhow." I nodded and we walked as a trio to the nearest restaurant. A tiny waiter took us to our seat and Lance's eyes lingered on the male faerie, who eyed him closely as we made our order of pretty much everything on the menu, which only made the waiter's eyes light up even more.

"You wanna tell us what went down between you and the hubs?" Lance asked, taking a swallow of his powerade.

"As much as I want to be castrated with a rubberband and a pair of pliers," I answered, stirring sugar into my coffee. Lance choked on his powerade and Shemar shook his head. A nearby table cast us the stink eye. Looks like the good citizens of Hell were truly appreciating my colorful vocabulary today.

"That's an image I didn't want," Lance said dryly.

"Then don't ask."

"Come on, man, don't play that game with us. We ain't none of those reapers of yours."

"Nah, I don't wanna talk about it. Not right now. Not when I still feel like breaking something," I muttered. Lance sighed, but didn't push it and started to talk about his cousin, Leo, who was thinking about going into the film industry in Hades.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Lance, or Shemar. Hell, I trusted the wolves with my life. They'd backed me up more times than I can count and yanked me out of enough shit to make the debt eternal, and it was vice versa. I just didn't feel like dumping unnecessary baggage in their laps. They had enough to deal with back at home in Duat. My daddy issues were none of their business. Even though they could relate, considering their father was the one who led to the destruction of their primary pack after he'd struck a deal with a European bounty hunter.

Suffice it to say, they understood. They always would. They just didn't understand how bad Xiphrus was. Nobody did. And I didn't feel like explaining it, especially not now after feeling raw from the argument with Alaric and the nightmare I couldn't exactly remember the details to.

So we sat around the table while the brothers gorged themselves on every flavor of breakfast food the place had. From scrambled eggs and toast to a twelve stack of pancakes, and several strawberry strudels. I myself had just opted for bacon, toast, and eggs to go with my coffee. I was tempted to order a cinnamon bun for nothing more than a personal so ha to Alaric for booting me out, but I had to face the facts...

Alaric made the best goddamn cinnamon buns in the world.

"So what's your plan for the day?" Lance asked with a mouthful of eggs drenched in syrup. I polished off the last of my bacon and sat back with my third cup of coffee.

"Gonna check in on the reapers, see how they're doing," I answered.

There was a chain of command specific to my reapers. Reapers were really just handpicked souls I'd offered the job to. They spread out across the universe, feeling a tingle whenever a soul died nearby, alerting them to the soul and helping them to their final resting place. Each realm had its own organization, and each city within that realm had its own chapter. But in the end, all of them reported to me, and all of them required to be watched from time to time.

Not that reapers misbehaved often. They just tended to take souls that didn't belong to a certain realm, putting them in another realm. Sometimes they retained some of their former selves, former beliefs that only one afterlife existed when that was so far off the chart, it wasn't even in Sanityville anymore.

Reapers also went rogue from time to time. Killing people, taking their souls, getting juiced on the emotions that came with it. See, when a reaper inhaled the soul of someone, that person's soul sits inside them, releasing incredible levels of emotions. And more often than I cared to consider, the reaper became ill. Mentally ill. The excessive sorrow and agony of a soul after its vessel died got to you at some point. You couldn't take it anymore. It just ate you up inside until you had nothing left, but the high of the emotions from the soul and insanity when you weren't high.

So sometimes, it paid to drop in and surprise them to make sure things were on the up and up.

And today, the mortal realm was scheduled for investigation. It'd been nothing but turmoil there for a while now. Oh sure, the mortal realm had plenty of wars and advances and whatnot. All realms did. But lately, the death toll had skyrocketed and I'd had to assign more reapers in to keep up with the soul intake. I'd also hear rumors that a reaper was borderline psychotic after working in a small middle eastern country I planned to visit first.

"Sounds like hell," Lance said, then glanced at Shemar, who raised an eyebrow, "Aw, come on. Not even a giggle?" Shemar squinted at him, like he was debating taking Lance's face and smooshing it into the pancakes he was working on.

"That pun is so overplayed," I said, agreeing with Shemar. Lance wrinkled his nose, then stuffed his mouth full of pancakes. I shook my head and Shemar rolled his eyes.

"So where you going first?" Lance asked after he swallowed.

"Mortal realm," I said, then paused as he cocked a brow, "A little birdie told me I have a rogue reaper in the making. Good to stop the mess before it gets brutal. The last thing I need is another human claiming they saw the face of God."

"That's what gets me," Lance said, leaning his elbow on the table and waving his hand for emphasis, "For some reason, only God can be sexy. What about the rest of us?"

"I dunno. I heard the humans depict you as hairy mutants that screw cheerleaders at Makeout Point," I said with a smirk. Shemar looked thoroughly disgusted and Lance made a noise of distress and gestured around his face.

"Do I look like a hairy mutant?"

"You do have this ugly thing on your face."

"It's called a goatee, you motherfucker, and the babes love it."

"It's cruel to prey on the blind, Lance."

"Fuck you, you skinny shit."

"Not in your wildest dreams, wolf," I answered, making Lance bare his canines, and I raised an eyebrow, looking past him, "But, uh, the way that waiter is eyeing you right now, I'd say the rat on your face is drawing someone in." Lance immediately forgot about the insult, turning to look across the restaurant where the fae was leaning on the counter, smiling coyly at him. Lance smirked and flexed his shoulders, cocking his head, like he was preparing to slink by, drop his number in the waiter's pants, then walk out with the proud swagger of a male ready to get laid.

"I'mma tip him good," Lance growled as the waiter pouted cutely at him and teased his bottom lip with his pinkie finger. I grimaced.

"Do it in the bathroom, not on our table."

"Just cuz you ain't gettin' none don't mean I gotta be in a chastity belt," Lance said with a grin, then slid out of his seat, jacking up his pants in a macho I'mma score tonight kinda way. Shemar and I watched him drolly as he, not surprisingly, hit up the waiter and won himself a phone number and the waiter himself got not only a number in return, but a smack on the butt that made him blush.

"Your brother has game," I said flatly, then looked at Shemar, "What about you? Swimming in the ocean?" Shemar shook his head, taking a gulp of his coffee and eating the last slice of toast he had out of thirty.

I didn't press him on a mate, though. Werewolves of his species in particular mated for life. Lance was still young, still easily led from bed partner to bed partner, but not Shemar. Shemar wanted to wait for his mate. He wanted to feel the tingle down his spine that told him he'd found the one. And they didn't always mate within the same species, so who knew? The universe was massive. It could be anyone.

He was just happy to wait for them.

"Good for you," I told him, making him glance at me, "Hope you find a mate soon, brother. They can be a huge fucking pain in the ass, but they're worth it." Shemar nodded slowly.

"Hope things get patched up between ya," he answered quietly. I nodded my thanks, then got up.

"Well, thanks for the meal, but I gotta split. Duty calls," I said. He nodded in understanding. I left the booth and walked past Lance, who was still flirting with the waiter. He gave me a clap on the bed, a stare that said good luck, my brother, and went back to flirting with his waiter.

I ditched the restaurant and once I was outside, I closed my eyes and teleported right to the mortal realm. It was a wild ride there, and especially once I landed.

The street I got to was barely more than a dusty road winding through crumbling buildings that looked more like hollow corpses, struggling to remain propped up in the heavy dusty air. The air in the mortal realm was already thick enough, and it was only made worse by the smoke of burning buildings, leftover bombings. The stench of smoke combined with the bitter smell of fuel and burned metal, electrical wiring, and plastic. Underneath that was the smell of blood and decaying flesh.

I immediately picked up on the location of the local reaper and followed the road past what appeared to have once been a hotel resort and was now nothing more than a dilapidated shell, struggling to remain off the ground with the rest of the buildings around it. I spotted the reaper standing near a small burning fire where a corpse was laying sprawled on cement blocks stained in blood.

The reaper was rather young. He probably died when he was twenty-one. Chosen for reincarnation, but jumped on my offer to be a reaper. His thinking it would be cool and fun, but he'd found out a short while afterwards that it wasn't. Our jobs was basically to stand by and watch, then pick up the pieces and move onto the next one.

It wasn't surprising that he'd go rogue.

And the proof that he'd done so was laying at his feet. The corpse was a sniper. A man clothed in black and gray, his head twisted at a disgusting angle, his stomach torn open and his innards trailing into the fire that popped and hissed at the blood. As if even the fire itself couldn't stand to touch him.

"Derrek," I said, greeting the reaper, who jumped, startled, his dark eyes swinging around to look at me.

"S-S-Stanton," he stammered, his French accent thick. I inclined my head, coming to a stop beside him to look down at the body. I looked back up at him.

"No killing humans, didn't I say that?" I asked. He swallowed. The tears came on hard, fast, filling his eyes and streaking through the dirt on his face. He kept stuttering and choking for a while, then finally managed to get a hold of himself long enough to explain.

"He was going to kill her. I'd just taken her mother. I didn't want to take her. I-I'm sorry, Stanton, I know the rules, but I couldn't let him do it. She was so small, she--"

"Our job isn't to save people. We are not heroes, Derrek. We're reapers. We are Death. Our job is to only touch death. We do not have the right to take their vessels away from them."

"But that's not fair--"

"It's how the universe works, D. We can't interfere with mortal affairs. You know the rules. What happens here, stays here. Until you broke the rules," I added, turning to face him. He only teared up further, trembling now as he looked around at his surroundings. The tears went from slow streams to full on sobs, his hands sinking into his hair.

I said nothing as I let him weep, loudly. Thankfully, our presence to humans was undetectable. It was only as humans took their last few breathes that they could see us, as their souls reached their rawest states. It was how humans had near death experiences. What they saw was my reapers, and yeah, sometimes those reapers turned out to be someone they knew. Because that was how I recruited them; souls scheduled to be reincarnated were offered a new life, or the life of a reaper, and often I came across people who were happy to play the role.

And then there were people like Derrek; innocent. Sheltered. Their former lives were just part of who they were, one way or another. And Derrek had been just an innocent college student, killed in a school shooting in the States. I'd chosen him because he desperately wanted the job, and I needed someone who knew the mortal realm well enough to work there. Unfortunately, Derrek's tragedy hadn't been enough to prepare him for the horrors of death.

Death was not always the peaceful slipping away, no matter what we tried to do. Releasing the endorphins in their brains to soothe them, being there to hold their hand as they drifted out of their vessels. It wasn't just holding their souls inside us and taking them to their final resting place.

We also had to be there when it happened. We had to stand there and watch them fall. No matter how horrible, how tragic, how painful. Death could be violent and cruel and sick. It could be made slow and miserable, or quick and painless. Either way, it was death and it got to you after a while.

Thankfully, my background prepared me well.

At least, that's what I tried to tell myself.

Every so often, I came across that one person who made me realize that Derrek was right; it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that we couldn't do anything. We had the power to do it. But the Source was always there to remind us; no. We had no control over their lives, their deaths, only their afterlife. We brought them to their final resting place. We eased the fear and the sorrow after death.

And that was it.

So why the fuck did they call me Death, I wondered so often?

As Derrek's sobs eased into pathetic whimpers, his face now a wet mess of tears and snot, I sighed and reached out to take his hand. He froze, then looked up at me.

"S-Stanton, I'm so sorry--"

"Ssh," I commanded and he fell silent, "I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to send you to where you belong." Derrek opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed. I caught him in my arms and closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around him and carefully seeped magic into his body. His vessel vanished and his soul spiraled up into the air and vanished.

He was better off living another life.

The life of a reaper was too much for him.

I took out my cell phone and dialed a number, holding it to my ear as I looked up at the sound of gunshots fired. A piercing squeal signaled the fall of a bomb, one that rocked the earth. The hotel resort beside me shuddered and parts of it broke off and collapsed into the ground. Now it was only half a hotel.

"Rita here, whatchu got for me, boss?" Came my favorite female's name. I smiled at the reaper's rocky voice.

"Hey, Rita. I need you to send me a reaper."

"Any preference?"

"I'm in a warzone."

"Ah, gotcha. Hold, please." I said nothing, waiting only a few seconds before the air rippled beside me and a reaper appeared, looking more than happy to clean up Derrek's mess. He immediately got to work on the dead human at my feet, leaning over his body and tugging at the man's bottom lip. He sucked in a deep breath and a white essence spiraled out of the man's mouth and into the reaper, who rose to his feet and bowed to me. I inclined my head, then turned away as he followed the tingle of death that went down his spine.

"Thanks, Rita."

"No problem, boss. You know I got your back." I hung up, and just as I did, a tingle went down my spine. One that was stronger than the one the reaper who'd just left felt. This one indicated something particularly bad. Frowning, I looked around one last time before vanishing. I followed the sensation and it took me straight to Styx, Hades.

A massive melting pot of a city with cultures from all over the universe crammed into one place. It was a colorful pool of activity with the streets having to be widened to accommodate all the residents, plus tourists, and now more students than ever with three new schools arriving on the scene. One such was a medical school specifically designed by Hades to train doctors for his new line of hospitals and research facilities. Suffice it to say, Styx had gotten a much needed upgrade in recent years.

Even so, crime was still a thing there. Oh sure, it had dropped over the years, but it never left. It was a city. Crime was required for the authorities to have a job and the black market to function properly.

I followed the tingle right into an alley near the Docks. If there was one place that never changed, it was the Docks. It was what you expected from the slums of a city. Abandoned warehouses, factories, and apartment buildings with a few tiny homes smashed in between, the Docks was the main source for crime, homelessness, and poverty. As such, the local residents were either homeless due to debt or crime, or criminals, or abandoned children. It was also the dumping zone for a lot of Styx. Garbage piled up, broke furniture, busted household electronics. It wasn't exactly the happiest place in the realm.

Which made sense that I'd find a body sprawled in the alley. Except he hadn't died of malnutrition, starvation, infection, or any other fun disease one picked up in these parts. Hell, he hadn't even been shot. No, this particular fellow was still choking on his own blood... and a penis? Yup, that was a penis. Crammed right down his throat, his body still seizing as it struggled for its last breaths.

"Come on," I said in disgust, turning around. Leaning against a wall with his arms folded over his chest, his haphazard blood red hair settling just above his shoulders, and matching red eyes that studied the creature with malicious fascination was none other than Styx's resident psychopath and guardian, Prince Theo. Hades's son, who despite no longer being the youngest, was universally known as the baby of the Hades Clan.

Theo's razor sharp red eyes lifted from the corpse to pin me with a bored stare. It was chilling, actually. Theo was generally a loudmouthed little brat. The terror of Hades, really. His favorite holiday wasn't Christmas or even Hallow's Eve. It was April Fool's Day. A day he used as an excuse to play the most ruthless of pranks on his family, particularly his brothers. He'd once stuffed Malachi's fridge full of dismembered body parts. He'd poisoned Zelios's drinking water. He'd burnt Charon's house down. Twice.

Perhaps psychotic was a bit of an understatement.

He was the creature humans feared would come out of a spirit board and fuck up their house. And they had every right; if Theo even left Hades. He rarely left the realm, especially nowadays.

Word had it through the grapevine, and I mean grapevine as in the Lucifer-Hades Clan Gossip Line, Theo and his longtime partner, Sept, had ended things abruptly. It wasn't quite clear who ended it or even why. Theo didn't talk about it, and Sept had been recalled back to Egypt by his father, Set, and had also not given a comment on it. The tabloids were a crazy mess right now with whispers of the rumors, but so far, the Hades Clan refused to comment and Hades had threatened to punch a reporter in the throat if he aired any further speculations on the matter.

Free speech only went so far in this realm. Once you pissed Hades off, it was off the table. Didn't happen. Nope. What break up? Who broke up?

"Did you have to do the blow job?" I asked Theo. The redheaded demon child looked as pissy as usual as he pushed off the side of the building. A couple links of chains on his black jeans jingled when he moved, and he wore a stylish black top with mesh elbows and a mesh strip across his abdomen, for once not wearing his reversible cloak.

"Fuck yeah," he answered with his usual snarl, "The bastard was a goddamn pedophile and I was tired of the news talkin' shit and not doing anything about it. What're you gonna do about it?" I sighed, turning back to the apparent pedophile, who was slowly choking to death, but had yet to actually die.

"Your dad know you're taking over the job of the authorities?" I asked, turning to look at Theo, who narrowed his eyes.

"What is he, my fucking keeper? This is my city."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just do it faster next time so I don't have to stand here and listen to him. He sounds gross."

"You should've seen how he was with his victims," Theo responded, making me frown at the eerie tone of his voice as he took a step toward me, "He liked to peel their skin off piece by piece and eat it in front of them."

"Jesus," I snapped, "Shut up. Can you at least pretend to be sane?" Theo curled his lip for a moment, then ducked his head and when he looked back up, he was smirking. I watched him through narrowed eyes as he put a hand on his hip.

"Wow, Death scared of Death, huh?"

"No, I just hate the living," I returned. Theo's eyes darkened.

"Fucking tell me about it. Oxygen is for assfuckers."

"It's like your language just gets more and more colorful every time we meet."

"I'm a motherfucking poet," Theo declared, then glanced past me, "Speaking of assfuckers, that cocksucker there is dead. You can take his putrid sack of shit to Gehenna and out of my city." I inclined my head, then stooped down. I hesitated, then rolled my eyes and waved my hand over his face, drawing the soul out that way. No way I wanted to put my face anywhere near his right now.

The soul spiraled into my palm and fled up my arm into my mouth. A shudder wracked me as the warmth of it slid inside me. It was like drinking a hot mug of tea. If tea tasted like straight up lemons. A quick flash of emotions rushed through me as the soul settled into place. With the emotions came a whole flurry of unwanted imagery from the soul's past, and confirmed Theo's unwanted details on the guy.

Unfortunately, it was such a quick blast of exposure that I couldn't stop the churning in my stomach and I went to the nearest thing that looked like a trash can and hurled. I used the brick wall of the building beside me to hold myself up as I emptied the contents of my stomach out into what looked like an empty McDonald's box, and the smell wafting out of it only made me retch more.

After a couple minutes, I leaned back, sucking in deep shuddering breaths. I turned to look at Theo, who only stared at me flatly. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.

"Done," I stated. Theo wrinkled his nose up.

"You come into my territory, judge me for killing a pedo, then puke up on my streets?"

"Yup, that's what I'm here for."

"You must be fucking great at parties. You do balloon animals too?" I ignored him now as I waited for my stomach to settle as the putrid soul settled down and the emotions faded away. I shook myself, then looked back over at Theo, who was frowning down at the ground. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know something was bugging him, and I took a stab in the dark as to why.

"So, who broke up with who?" I asked. Theo's eyes snapped up and locked on me. For a brief moment, I saw my question had pissed him off, but as quickly as it came, it was gone and replaced with Theo's usual snarky attitude.

"It was a mutual decision. You can tell the tabloids that too."

"I'm not asking for the tabloids."

"Ew, gross, do you actually care? I'm out of here. I don't wanna catch your pussy germs. Oh, and get the fuck out of my realm, prick," Theo sneered, then vanished in a column of dark red smoke. I sighed, shaking my head and stepping away from the street. I glanced over at the body that still lay sprawled in the streets. I reached down and took the guy's wallet out of his pocket, then burned the corpse until it was nothing more than a pile of ash and bone.

I tossed the wallet in through the nearest window, where more than likely a homeless person was bunked for the night.

I headed out from there and ran a few more errands, checking in on reapers, dumping the old ones and hiring the new ones. Catastrophes in one realm, peace in another. A few guys in the way of a clean job, a perfectly arranged funeral. The death of a male, the death of a female, human, vampire, wolf, shifter, human, human, human. Old and young, unborn, reborn. Souls dispersed throughout the universe, settled into peace for eternity, or scheduled for reincarnation.

It was night by the time I returned to the house.

The lights were on inside, spilling through the dark curtains pulled over the windows. The sound of frogs and crickets in the distance, a dog barking in the distance. It was peaceful and quiet. I looked up at the sky. Overhead, the velvet black sky was a blanket of silver stars sprayed around a moon approaching its final cycle of waning. Surely tomorrow it would be new, dark and invisible to the realm.

I went up to the front door slowly, inserting the key and stepping inside as quietly as possible. I typed in the security code on the panel by the front door, then twisted the lock for added measure. I crept into the middle of the house. Looking to the right into the living room, it was completely empty. The television was off, everything was spic and span. I looked to the left and the kitchen was also empty. Not a panty-assed husband in sight.

Frowning, I looked up the stairs, spotting the bedroom light on. I started up the stairs, avoiding that one step that creaked when it was stepped on. I went down the short hallway to the bedroom and peered inside.

I relaxed at the sight of Alaric laying on his stomach, reading a manual on how to configure a communication device for certain frequencies and channels. I cocked my head and slipped into the room. The warm glow of the lights, including that butt ugly lamp, made Alaric look so much softer and sweeter. Even better was the sky blue lingerie set he wore. A new addition to his collection, it was a sheer baby doll panty combo. The top fell open, ruffled on the fringes with a sharp neckline and a loose bow that matched the bows on either hip of his panties, panties that had a delicious little heart shape right at the top of his buttcrack.

And holy shit did it make him look drop dead gorgeous.

I never thought twice about the idea of males in lingerie. It had never occurred to me. Lingerie was for women, for females. What a silly idea for males. Our bodies were too boxy, too big for the delicate lacy ensembles. It was meant for dainty flirty ladies.

Until I'd seen Alaric in a pair of panties. It was like a door had opened to a whole new world and it was a world I did well to explore, finding that it was apparently a common enough thing in the universe that there were male specific lingerie stores, packed with perfect lacy shit that made Alaric look like a delicate flower.

Alaric loved it. He loved the comfort, the freedom, the way it made him feel sexy.

And I loved that he loved it, loved that he looked sexy in it.

"You gonna keep drooling over my ass or are you gonna grab your blanket and get down to the sofa?" Alaric asked, not looking up as he turned a page in the manual. I growled at the reminder of our morning fight. I walked across the room and got on the bed, stalking on all fours until I was hovering over to of him. He refused to look at me, his eyes studying the words on the pages. I went to kiss him, but he ducked his head, then drew it back. Not hard enough to break my nose, but enough to annoy me.

"Come on," I said in frustration, rolling off him so I was sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking my boots off, "I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, and now I'm respecting that," Alaric replied, "By not talking about it. Goodbye."

"Alaric."

"Stanton."

I sighed, wiping a hand down my face. I set my boots aside and slid off my jacket and weapons, setting it aside on the end of the bed. I turned over to look at Alaric as he lay on his stomach, studying his manual. Even though he looked like he was genuinely reading, I knew he wasn't. He was much faster at reading than he was pretending to be. It took him forever to turn the page, where he appeared to be reading the same paragraphs over and over again.

"Alaric."

"What?" He demanded, turning the page roughly, giving it a small tear at the bottom. I reached out and shut the manual on him. He snapped his head to glare at me. I tried to pretend it didn't turn me on as I shifted onto the bed so I could get a better look at him.

"Look," I said, making him frown, "I get it's hard to understand. I don't blame you. You grew up differently. You lived in a house with people who loved you and would do anything for you. People who would sooner bite their own tongues off than see you come to harm. Nobody's ever stabbed you in the back before and I don't expect you to understand, and frankly, I'm glad. It... sucks. It really, really sucks." Alaric slowly sat up as I reached up to rake a hand through my hair. I looked at him again.

"It doesn't matter what I say because you will never understand. All I'm asking is that you please just let this go. Nothing good is going to come from getting involved with Xiphrus. He's not right in the head, Alaric," I explained. He didn't believe me. He didn't need to say so. I saw it gleam in his eyes, like he was preparing a whole spiel about how wrong I was, how I needed to give him a chance, how I needed to learn forgiveness or some shit like that.

"Please," I tacked on before he could start in on me, "I don't want to talk about it. Whatever dire situation Xiphrus is going on about, if it's bad enough, he'll contact someone else. I don't want him to drag you, or me, into his bullshit again. Please, baby. I don't like fighting with you and I especially don't like fighting about him. He's not part of this, what you and I have. He's not part of anything at all." Alaric's eyes were sad. He wanted to talk me into meeting with or at least calling Xiphrus. However, Alaric wasn't stupid. Naive at times perhaps, but not stupid. I wasn't going to lie; I was stubborn as fuck and he knew that. It was how we got together in the first place. My constantly tailing him, harassing him, following him, until finally he caved in. And I never would've done it in the first place if I wasn't positive he liked it. And he did. He liked when I popped up out of nowhere, when I tried to woo him in stupid ways, like buying him new panties or sweeping him off his feet and doing him on the kitchen floor, or the time I surprised him with a whole bucket of chocolate chip mint ice cream.

"I just don't want you to make a mistake," Alaric said at last, making me frown as he reached out and took my hand, stroking his thumbs over my knuckles, "You could be missing out on having a real connection with someone who isn't me."

"I have a connection with my reapers."

"Other than them."

"I have a connection with my friends."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," Alaric said in frustration, releasing my hand, "I'm talking about a familial connection, Stanton. And before you say my family, you can save that for someone who'll believe it. We both know you're not close to my family either. You avoid them at parties. You don't go out of your way to talk to them. You don't even have them listed as contacts on your phone."

I didn't really have a comeback for that one. The fact of the matter was that family just wasn't my thing. Mine had fallen apart. I'd lost brothers and sisters in the first battles. And all of them had fallen at the hands of our own father. Joxeia had just packed his shit up and vanished. Geara had abandoned all of us. She selfishly locked herself up and refused to come back to reality. Her dream world was safer than this one. And Satanika had also left. Yhwhwa. Ra. Uranus. Alexion. Nyx and Erebus. They all spread out across the universe.

There was nobody left.

And it took me years to finally leave that fucking god forsaken realm. What was formerly called the Paradise realm, and still called that by idiots, was nothing more than a wasteland of putrid death and betrayal and misery. Some stupid hope forced me to cling to that place for those few years. Some stupid hope that everyone would come back. That things would go back to the way they were.

And that naivety nearly killed me.

I realized there was no going back. People were dead. Everyone else had disappeared and I was left alone.

Family was not something I cared about. I didn't need a family. I didn't need Satanika, or Geara, or Joxeia. And I especially didn't fucking need Xiphrus. If it wasn't for him, him and his stupid addiction to fucking shit up, things probably would've worked out better. And frankly, I wish he'd never been created. Even if that meant I hadn't been created myself. At least the rest of the universe would've been happier.

But I'd stopped with that whole thing a long time ago. Wishing I could change the past didn't make it so. Everything happened for a reason, or so they said. I was pretty sure it was just an excuse people used to hide the fact that their life sucked balls and they were trying to smile through the shit thrown in their faces.

"Family is important," Alaric murmured, meeting my eyes and I grimaced, making him frown, "It is. Without my dad, I wouldn't exist. Without my siblings, I would've died a long time ago. I'd be alone. I'd probably fall victim to that darkness infection that's spreading."

"And I'm happy for you," I answered, making him sigh because apparently that wasn't what he was going for, but what I got out of it anyway, "I'm glad your family is there for you. It's a very rare thing, so I want you to cherish it. It's the only reason I go with you to your family events. But, Alaric, I don't need that. I don't want it. All I need is you. My life is fine with just you." Alaric pursed his lips. He still looked upset that he wasn't getting through to me.

Exhausted from arguing with him, and a day once again filled with running to and fro, I scooted further onto the bed and settled my head in his lap. He dropped his hand on my head, stroking my hair and I felt my eyelids slide shut as his fingers ran through my hair, fingernails scraping my scalp ever so gently. He was so warm and careful. He loved me. I could feel it. Even though we argued from time to time, I could feel it right down into my soul that Alaric loved me, and I loved him.

This was okay.

This was all I needed.

My life was just fine like this.

Just me and Alaric.