“It’s going to be okay. We’ll fix this,” I say softly.
Before she can respond, the door swings open, and a man appears, partially concealed by the screen door in front of us.
“Fate?” a deep voice asks in disbelief before he pushes it open and is suddenly right in front of us. “God! It’s really you. I can’t believe it. I heard rumors, but...”
He steps forward and wraps her up in a giant hug before any of us can stop him, lifting her off her feet with an audible “oomph.” Levi manages a quick save of the donuts before they tumble to the porch.
She’s an angel.
The thought hits me out of nowhere, and I frown. That better be a malfunction because I swear I’ll kill him. I don’t care who he is.
The guy is massive, which makes sense considering he’s Death and all, and he’s gotta be at least seven feet tall, towering over all of us. He’s not overly buff, but in damn good shape for someone who rules the dead. How much exercise could dealing death blows really offer? And why the fuck am I even thinking that right now? The bright blue t-shirt he’s wearing is snug against his chest and arms, and his jeans look well worn and comfortable. His feet are bare, and when he pulls back, holding Fate at arm’s length, he smiles, showing off bright white teeth. But perhaps the most unexpected characteristics are the full head of platinum blond hair and bright blue eyes. He would look more at home on the sidelines of a kids’ soccer game than reaping the souls of the dead.
When he finally stops ogling our girl, his eyes scan the rest of us. I see it then, the darkness that must lie within, as those eyes turn almost black.
“You all were supposed to protect her,” he growls, placing Fate to his side and wrapping an arm around her.
This hot little piece is mine.
She absently pats the hand resting on her shoulder like she’s not even aware she’s doing it. It’s a casual gesture, telling of a certain level of ease, like this is something they’re used to, but I’m watching the interaction for any sign that his thoughts really are...less than ideal where Fate is concerned. “It’s okay. It wasn’t their fault.”
He doesn’t say anything, just continues to glare at us with those creepy as fuck eyes.
“What the hell happened a hundred years ago?”
“We...uh...experienced some sort of interference that night with our marks,” Mack says, the words fumbling out. “Someone deliberately set out to harm Fate and made sure we wouldn’t be able to locate her.”
“And why were you looking for her?” he growls. “Why did she run off in the first place?”
We’re all silent as he scans the group, knowing damn well he won’t like what we have to say. Pretty sure none of us want to risk his ire until we know just what we’re facing here.
“It’s a long story...um, Death,” Fate says softly, her hand now resting on top of his. Their closeness is starting to make me growly. “Not sure if you heard, but we don’t exactly have all of our memories.”
“You can call me Nate.” He gazes down at her then, an affectionate look on his much too fucking attractive face. “And yes, I heard, babe. Just didn’t want to believe it.”
At that, a chorus of growls sounds off around me. The bastard just smirks, a challenging gleam spreading across his face as he assesses us with a keen eye that sees far more than he lets on.
The motherfucker is testing us.
“Ah. There they are. Was wondering if things had changed since you’ve been back.”
She looks up at him, a grin tilting her lips as she says, “You must know us pretty well?”
“I know more than I care to, that’s for damn sure.” He chuckles and pulls his arm back, reaching for the door. “Why don’t you all come in?”
Fate grabs the box of donuts from Levi. “We brought donuts.”
“Let me guess. Reggie’s suggestion? Damn spirit knows my weakness. I’ll grab some coffee and meet you in the study. First door on the left.”
Fate turns and heads in, with Levi, Knox, and Thad trailing behind her. Macklin follows, which leaves me alone with Death. Nate. Whatever the fuck his name is.
I cross my arms over my chest as he stands there holding the door. “Can we trust you?”
The smirk never leaves his face as he regards me. “Still untrusting, I see.”
I don’t have time to fuck around, but I need him to know one thing. “I won’t lose her again. I’ll do whatever it takes, to whomever is in my way, to keep her safe.”
His eyes go black again as he nods. “Good. And this time, you call me if you need any help with that. I’d like to get my own hands on the fucker who did this. No one messes with Fate and lives to tell the tale.”
I nod and feel my soul start to settle. It’s good to know we have a powerful ally in our corner even if he does live in the suburbs, looks more like an investment banker than the grim reaper, and has a thing for my girl. I’d get Mack’s or Knox’s read on his intentions if our powers weren’t shit. Fuck our luck!
He motions for me to follow him inside, and I do, noting the brightness isn’t limited to the outside. Vases of fresh flowers are placed throughout the entryway and front sitting room. The dining table is set for eight, with cloth napkins rolled and tied with elegant holders.
“Help me grab stuff?” he asks, not looking back.
“Sure,” I say, slowing down a bit as I notice the photos lining the hallway wall on our way back to the kitchen. There are a few of Nate in the black robe and scythe. Wonder if he considers that his work uniform? There are also a few of him with a dark-haired woman that I don’t recognize. But what catches my attention are the photos of him with the six of us. They span the centuries, telling a story that I wasn’t even aware we had. He’s not just our ally. He’s our friend. Then I see the photo of him with three other men. All equally larger than life, with serious eyes and straight faces.
“My brothers,” he says over my shoulder, and I’m a bit ashamed to admit I flinch. Dude’s awfully damn stealthy for being so goddamn big.
“You don’t exactly look like brothers,” I note, my eyes finding his. “Where are they right now?”
A look crosses his face but is gone in a blink. “We haven’t exactly seen eye to eye in the last century. We were all close to Fate. All of you, really. And they didn’t handle her death well.”
They’re off doing the chicken dance at a wedding.
I almost snort. That one is definitely a malfunction.
He turns and heads back toward the kitchen, so I follow. He quickly starts the coffee pot then turns to grab a large glass pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge. With the door still open, he points to a shelf as he begins placing mugs and glasses on a serving tray. “Grab the creamer and the jar of sugar on the counter too.”
“Looks like you were prepared.”
He just chuckles at my suspicious stare. “Living in this neighborhood, surrounded by SAHMs. Hell yes, I am.”
“SAHMs?”
“Stay at home moms. They’re a chatty bunch.”
The incredulous smile crosses my face before I can stop it. “Do they know who you are?”
“Sure they do. Once they found out, I damn near had to fight them off with a stick. Women love the bad boys.”