So yeah, I sort of got why he was hesitant to get involved with me, since he was immortal and I was going to probably unfortunately lead a very mortal life. Something I didn’t like to think about, because my own mortality was in such stark contrast to the nearly or completely immortal nightmares around me. Plus, he had been around for a very long time, presumably, so maybe he had sworn off romance long ago.
But then why the Valentine’s roses? It just didn’t make sense to me, and I had been too much of a wimp to outright ask because every time I hedged at the topic, he, and they as a group, skillfully avoided it. It was impressive. Annoying, but impressive.
Zain asked Saint something, but I was distracted enough that I didn’t hear it, instead looking over his black wavy hair that was streaked with silver throughout, the ends almost completely dipped. The silver sparkled under the dim lighting like the almost embedded diamond glint his skin seemed to have in certain lighting. The man was like a hard, cold diamond, always dressed in black and decorated in tattooed artwork that consisted of death-related images from skulls to more human religious-themed depictions, like crosses. He looked as dangerous as he was, and as he tapped his fingers against the table, I noticed a dark shadow that seemed to grow under his hand.
Before I could stop myself, my hand snuck out, and I brushed the small wisp that curled out to meet me, causing Saint’s gaze to snap towards me, cutting off whatever he was saying. I offered him a wide-eyed innocent expression, even as the black shadow circled up my finger, kissing my skin and making me smile. He let out a low sound in his throat before scowling down at the shadow, as if it somehow had wronged him.
“Saint,” Razar offered in a dry tone.
“She did it, not me,” he pointed out as the shadow left my hand, making me frown. I smiled as they went back to talking, and the mini-shadow, which took the form of a cute little humanoid, walked back out from under his hand and leaned against my coffee. My lips pulled up into a smile as I watched him with delight.
What? Little creepy shadow thing was cute! Plus, I was pretty sure Saint knew I was enjoying it because he seemed to not be paying it any mind now, distracting Razar with something or the other as we waited for our last two teammates.
Honestly, Saint’s magic really impressed me. I mean, he could kill in a bunch of different ways, and normally he avoided his nightmare form, which I found unusual, but I think he enjoyed ‘feeling’ the kill, as he referred to it once. Maybe something about being a reaper stopped that? Or, it was possible he liked the feeling of being covered in blood, because I had caught him a few times licking it off his fingers after killing someone here, so I couldn’t imagine what he did post-mission. I wouldn’t admit to it openly, but I’d gotten more than turned on watching him do that. I didn’t want to examine what that said about me… well, I knew it said I was absolutely insane, but oh well.
At least I wasn’t alone!
Yet his magic wasn’t anything compared to the actual glory of seeing Saint in his reaper form—that was something entirely different. You honestly think you know what a reaper looks like until you are really in the presence of one. Then you experience firsthand what that type of death magic feels like… tastes likes. Saint in that form was over nine feet tall, and his entire body was clothed completely in black, his robes almost having an ethereal edge to them, where you didn’t know if they were solid or made of smoke. His tattooed hands would turn skeletal, and his hidden face would turn into a legitimate skull, his coal eyes turning into burning silver gems. I found it absolutely intoxicating to see him looking like death itself. I also had been shocked by how comfortable his robe had been against my cheek.
Yeah, you better believe I had still gone up to him and wrapped my arms around him when I saw him post-mission like that. It helped that he had literally picked me up, and while the other men had been upset about his closeness in that form, I hadn’t been worried in the least. Saint wouldn’t hurt me. No, he would kill anyone, even his own team, before hurting me. Plus, it had been totally worth it, because that was literally the best hug to date.
Not that I would ever admit that to the others… that was the type of comment that started fights.
Saint’s hand slid onto my thigh, drawing my attention from the little shadow figure, before a noise had me snapping my head back over to the window wall next to us. Amun sat down with my father, the first’s eyes moving over towards me as I offered him a small, hesitant smile. Razar let out a dangerous sound, looking towards the nightmare as Amun met his gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. I shook my head, running a hand over my face before taking another sip of my coffee, sad to see my shadow friend gone. I couldn’t even be upset with my team, either, because I knew they were territorial. It was just who they were. Hell, it was how I was… but shit, sometimes it made stuff difficult.
Then again, nightmare culture was different, so maybe this was normal and Amun wouldn’t be offended. I mean, they had even been hesitant around Saint at first, and he’d been legitimately rather friendly. Well, as friendly as someone like him could be.
Although, you know, showing up in the middle of the night in my bedroom probably didn’t earn him any points with Razar. I hadn’t even realized he had arrived until Razar’s growl had woken me up from where I’d been caught up in his arms in the corner of the ceiling. I’d proceeded to squint, offering the stunning stranger, highlighted in silver moonlight, an odd but semi-curious look as he stared at both of us with equal interest. After a few prolonged seconds, Razar had brought us down to floor level, and I’d tossed on my glasses, trying to process what the strange man was doing in my bedroom. He claimed, apparently, that he’d been called to me. Nope. Still no idea what he meant by that, but I was thrilled to have him here.
Luckily, he didn’t seem to have received any other calls because he’d not only stayed, but his psychotic, amusing self had been part of our team since then. Blackwell and Damian had been less than thrilled to see him at first, but I think that had to do with the little competition that existed between the god and legend terror culture. The first making themselves more distinct while the latter thinking the god terrors should be categorized under the same as them. Honestly, it seemed pretty petty, but nightmares could be difficult like that. I found their arguments pretty adorable when they didn’t turn into full out brawls.
“I’m going to close the door,” Damian said as Blackwell strode in, taking the seat across from Zain near the end of the table to my right. Damian joined that side, sitting between him and Saint. I smiled happily that all of them were sitting here together and that I had the amazing team that I did. Despite my frustration, there were very few things I would change about my life… except maybe having more than Razar in my bedroom at night. But I needed to keep my head clear for the day, because tonight’s mission wasn’t normal by any stretch.
“You look tired,” Zain pointed out as I turned to grab the tablets that were charging in a large cabinet behind me. I put them on the table and began passing them out and letting out a yawn while nodding, proving his point. It also made me realize that we probably needed a larger conference table, and not just because of Amun. No, these men were absolutely massive, and I couldn’t imagine these little leather table chairs were comfortable for them.