jokingly.
“It’s getting late.” I tap my wrist as if I’m wearing a watch. This conversation is making me a little uncomfortable.
“You take the Nemean, and I’ll bring Damiana.” Grim wedges his way back closer to me, bumping Calix out of the way as he does.
“I can’t transport others the way you can,” Gunnar admits through his teeth.
“Fine. Hold on to her, Nemean,” Grim orders over my head.
“No problem, thanks for the ride.” Calix lines himself up against my back. It’s a pretty nice position to be in under different circumstances, but right now it feels a little smothering when Grim pulls me in tight against his chest.
In a blink, we’re in a dingy office, but the couch I remember has been replaced with a ratty looking cot. “You either picked the wrong room, or someone did some redecorating.” I pull myself out from between the two men and push my hair back away from my face. I should have put it all up into a ponytail. The back of my neck is already starting to sweat.
I hear a door down the hall slam into a wall and a loud bellow. “That would be my kitten.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Another door slams. “Damiana?” Gunnar shouts.
“Would someone open the door before he breaks it down?” I throw my arm in the direction of the door. “Good thing we decided not to be stealthy.”
Calix stomps over to the door and rips it open. “Would you shut up?”
Gunnar’s yell cuts off mid syllable. “Why the hell are you in there?” His tone is still abrasive, but not nearly as loud.
“You need to work on your inside voice, Kitten.” I push past Calix at the door and into the hallway.
Grim is tight on my heels. “Why do you call him kitten when the Nemean is the feline?”
I stop in my tracks. “You know, I hadn’t even thought about that.” I turn to gaze at Calix and Gunnar who are standing side by side. In theory, the name would be much more fitting for the lion, but it works so well for Gunnar. He’s like some feral kitty that just needs a little lovin’. I won’t tell them that though. “Well, it’s too late to change it now, he’s stuck with it.”
“You don’t have a special name for me,” Grim informs me.
“You want a nickname?” I blink several times. The Angel of Death is asking me to give him a nickname when he already knows I call the Berserker ‘Kitten’? Most men would more than likely feel emasculated by such a name.
“Do you like him more?” Grim’s brow furrows.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” I look at the grimy walls of the club’s back hallway. “And right now.”
“Well?” Gunnar prompts, his chin lifted in the air a tiny bit.
“No,” I reply with a sigh. “Giving him a nickname doesn’t mean I like him more. It just came out in the moment and kind of stuck. I think it fits him really well.” I open my hands after giving them the explanation. It’s the truth, I don’t like Gunnar more than the others, but the first time I met him, he was sweet and needy, then I got to see the other side of him. And yeah, the kitten name just works for me.
Gunnar gives Grim a scowl, probably for asking the question in the first place, but the subject is dropped after that.
“Are we going out?” I point over my shoulder, indicating the door to the club.
“Yeah.” Gunnar shakes his head briefly and adds, “I’m going to check in with a few of my men. I’ll meet up with you guys in a little bit.” With his eyes boring into mine, he demands, “Stay out of trouble.”
I roll my eyes. “I never get in trouble.”
“We’ll keep her out of trouble,” Calix offers, as he poises his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it.
“You stay out of trouble,” I grumble, and make my way over to the door. The magical residue hits me like a physical wave crashing over me. My senses feel like exposed nerves as every sin in the place bombards me. The entire club feels as if it’s been tainted with the same dark magic I sensed from the bad witch.
“Wait.” I lift my hand and I feel Grim’s fingers curl over my shoulder as he drags me back. “The whole place is saturated,” I grit out past a wheezing breath. I feel like I’m smothering in the magical