10. Rick the dick
Nevaeh
I 'm shaking with nerves as I pass Anxo—always the gentleman holding the door open for me. Only when his firm hand settles on my lower back, do I relax a little.
Ignoring the stolen glances and keeping a blank expression is hard when I’m the only new presence in the room. They might not recognize my face, but I’m reeking with my Divine even as I try to keep it under wraps.
The large, dark wooden table is filled on one side with high-ranking warriors and elders of the kingdom. I’m about to sit between Angel and Seiji when the conference room door bursts open.
“Greetings, Horseman Alarie.” A man rushes in, bowing to Anxo first before striding toward the only empty chair opposite to me.
“Have a seat, Rick. We’ll start in a minute.”
Rick… that sounds like dick.
I hold back from snorting like a pig and remind myself to be professional.
Don’t fuck up your first impression, Nevaeh.
“Prince Nakaya.” Rick bows in Seiji’s direction and then greets every other man in the room. Blatantly ignoring the female warriors in the process.
So, he is a dick, after all.
His misogyny shines so bright that suddenly his once decent features now seem ugly. Rick is about 5’8 with tan olive skin and obsidian eyes. His shoulder-length wavy hair pulled back into a neat bun .
Pity that his personality pales in comparison.
Adjusting in his chair, Rick’s gaze searches the room until it finds Grace. The cheery, happy-go-lucky mask is replaced with something darker in a flash.
Rick scans her thoroughly or as much as he can from above the table, and the disappointment in his eyes is evident even when his face stays nonchalant.
When his eyes meet mine—an unfamiliar face among familiar ones, he can’t hide his shock. Or how his eyes linger below my neck for longer than necessary.
I’m wearing Angel’s hoodie, so I doubt he sees anything exciting, but men like him don’t care what’s on display as long as it’s a woman.
“Oh, who’s this pretty lady? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, miss?”
“ Blackburn .”
If my eyes flashing gold with the irritation I feel for him didn’t stun him, my name surely did.
Every head snaps towards me with bewildered looks.
I don’t mind. I understand how strange it must be sitting with someone they assumed was dead for a decade.
One by one, Angel introduces me to the council of elders, Warriorheads, and elite warriors before stopping at a woman patiently waiting for her turn.
“It’s a blessing to have you among us again, Princess Nevaeh. I’m head reaper, Vesta.”
Okay, now the dark cloak with the hood resting on her shoulders makes much more sense.
“Papa made you wear that?”
She chuckles, smoothing her hands down the sides of her robe. “As much as he loathes wearing one himself, he enjoys making fun of us in them more.”
Of course, he does.
The Kingdom of Death is the only one among Horsemen that is actively involved with the human realm. The other three only pitch in when the fate sisters want them to— whether it's to strip land from life or cause enough conflicts to shake the world.
Papa might be The Grim Reaper, but even he can’t be everywhere at once. There’s a separate army of demons under him bestowed with the basic abilities of a reaper to help with his daily workload.
As long as a demon is willing, Papa doesn’t hesitate to recruit them. He avoids being in the human realm like a fish avoids being out of water.
The last man I have yet to meet pales, but instead of the shock I expected, he looks like he might burst into tears from his happiness.
But he is staring at me expectedly.
Fuck.
I knew one of these days I would have to face someone from my past and look them in the eye when I say I don’t remember who they are. I don’t want to see his happiness turn to dust when he finds out that while he is struggling to hold back tears of joy, I’m struggling to remember him.
I hold my breath and scan my brain to see if I can remember him, but everything is blank.
A warm hand engulfs mine under the table, and I turn to my mate and shake my head subtly. Anxo’s eyes fall shut, but his grip on my hand tightens to support me.
Within a moment, the crestfallen look on the warrior’s face is replaced with understanding, and I don’t have to guess why.
Angel and I have a deal. If I tell him I don’t remember something or someone, he will explain on my behalf, so I don’t have to be responsible for crushing their hope.
I know it’s selfish to put that on him, but I can’t, for the life of me, have people shedding tears because I don’t know who they are. The lack of empathy they will get in return will only hurt them more.
It’s better to start over. And the way this particular warrior holds himself back from smothering me means he’s one of those people I won’t mind starting over with.
My slight smile makes his whole demeanor light up, and it's good to know he doesn’t feel betrayed by my broken mind.
“Nevaeh, this is Warriorhead Khatri, second in command to your father.” Angel introduces us.
Khatri looks to be in his mid-thirties with a perfectly trimmed beard and dark eyes that soften considerably when he’s looking at me.
That look . Seeing it feels like Deja Vu.
“It’s good to have you back, Princess Nevaeh. My mate and I have been praying for your return for years.” His deep South Asian accent is familiar too but it's still not enough for me to place him. It doesn’t matter though, both of us are willing to start over.
“Thank you. For everything.” We both know I’m grateful for more than just watching over my kingdom.
Khatri was there for Papa in his hard times, and his relief at my return tells me how much it must've hurt him to see Papa break in those times.
My guilt mountain is gifted with another heavy stone with that thought. Before that weight can make it hard to breathe, Angel laces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands to rest on his thigh.
It’s scary how easily this man turns my misery into a faded memory. I’m daydreaming about how much I like being around my mate when Rick intervenes.
“ The missing princess . To be honest, no one thought we could salvage you after a decade.”
Salvage me? What am I? A lost earring?
“Well, I am here, warrior Rick.” He meets my emphasis on warrior and the blatant disregard of his title with a visible tick in his jaw.
Doesn’t feel good to be treated like you don’t matter, does it, asshole.
Whatever fire I start under his pants, Rick doesn’t seem so concerned about reeling it back. He makes yet another attempt at hiding his disgusting words under the veil of politeness .
“If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Blackburn, have you given any thought about your role in the kingdom? I know it’s quite early, but I've heard there’s an empty spot on the kitchen services.”
“If I were him, I'd tread very carefully,” Seiji whispers to himself like he doesn't actually want to warn Rick.
Hazel is watching Angel like a hawk, waiting for him to bash this idiot’s face in.
Shame that’s not Angel’s style.
“My apology council members. Maybe it’s too soon for her. After all, her scars are still fresh.” Rick directs his words to Angel even as the conversation is about me .
I tense when his eyes linger on the back of my palm, where a single white scar disappears under the sleeve.
I might hide my scars, but it’s not because I’m ashamed of them. Rather, I don’t want to subject others to what was done to me.
Angel seems just as frustrated with Rick and replies in a firm tone, hoping that would be enough for Rick to not make any more disrespectful comments.
“Nevaeh already has a path the Fates have laid out for her. She’s our future Horsewoman of Death .”
Guess who has a death wish: Rick the dick.
“I hope you’re not serious, Horseman Alarie. She is a woman . There's no such thing as a female Grim Reaper. It's a commitment of a lifetime, sir. We should wait for Horseman Blackburn to find his fated mate and give the kingdom a natural male offspring worthy of such status.”
“Welcome to the 1850s bitches.” Seiji mocks and leans back, clearly waiting for Angel to drop his restraint.
As much as I want to fight my own battles, I’m enjoying someone else fighting them for me for a change.
I think I trust Angel to have my back.
The look on Angel’s face screams murder. If I didn’t know with absolute certainty that he would never even think about hurting me, I would be worried .
Rage darkens his once bright green eyes, and Anxo looks a flick of wind away from informing Ricks’ family that he died from an unfortunate mouthing incident.
“Tell me warrior Morgan.” Angel doesn’t look so angelic when the lid on his anger slips back an inch to address Rick. “Are you aware of the ratio between men and women in high-ranking positions in the supernatural world?”
“Uh, no sir.” Rick stutters.
What a coward.
“7:3. Can you name the ten greatest leaders in supernatural history?”
“No sir.”
“ Six of them are women.” Angel stares directly at Rick as everyone waits to see where this is headed. “What do you think those stats prove, warrior?”
After a few minutes of Rick stumbling over his words and unable to produce a simple answer, the Head Reaper speaks up, “Women have a majority in quality leadership.”
“Excellent observation, warrior Vesta.” The woman perks up at Anxo's compliment. “It also proves that despite men believing they rule the world, women are much better at leading it. Imagine all the positive changes they could bring with a little more support and a little less narrow-mindedness.”
Everyone is proudly beaming at my mate for handling the situation so calmly and without once raising his voice or throwing Rick out of the window behind us.
I would’ve chosen the latter but to each their own.
“If you still have doubts regarding my mate’s worth and capabilities, you're welcome to challenge her for a friendly duel.”
Rick flushes at Angel's mention of us being mates, and his mouth hangs open. He remains silent after that, lowering his head in sheer embarrassment as Angel starts the meeting without any idiotic disruptions.
While the council members are shocked by Angel and me being mates, I’m having a hard time adjusting to different shocking news.
Grace and Rick are in a relationship .
Like boyfriend and girlfriend.
Like together-together .
Apparently, Rick’s mate died when she was young, and since Grace didn’t have one, he proposed a mutually beneficial relationship.
Let me go throw up before I have to continue.
I get that Grace is a little na?ve, but I didn’t think she was downright blind.
I’ve been trying to understand for the past twenty-five minutes how someone as sweet and bubbly as her chose someone like that douchebag. Rick has yet to show a single admirable trait about himself.
I know Grace believes she doesn’t have a mate because she is human, but surely Rick can’t be the only available option in the entire kingdom.
It's hard, but I get rid of my plans to get rid of Rick without anyone suspecting me and focus on the meeting.
With every topic, Anxo stops to ask for my opinion. And each time, I have to contain my surprise and stop myself from acting like a blubbering fool. I didn’t think Angel would need any of my ideas or suggestions, considering he is much more experienced than I am.
“What do we have on the little werewolf?”
When no one dares to blink for a solid minute, warrior Vesta flips through some papers and braces herself for the brief. “August Trevino. Son of Alpha Trevino.”
August .
I finally know my boy’s name.
Clutching my hand, Angel holds it over his heart when the sharp intakes of breath all around the room have my heart falling to my feet.
The looks of devastation and regret overtake every face in the room, and I have a horrible feeling about what this means for my boy.
Gripping the edge of the table, Hazel asks the warrior to continue, but it's hard to focus over Grace sniffing and Seiji rapidly tapping his foot under the table.
This is going to be really bad, isn’t it?
“The crescent moon destroyed the pack in an attack four months ago. The coven reduced the entire pack to ashes, Horsemen. We found the alpha, beta, and gamma families slaughtered, along with the rest of the pack. August Trevino seems to be the sole survivor. A future alpha if he ever wishes to rebuild his pack from the ground up.”
Oh, Fates.
As the warrior summarizes what happened, my mind keeps flashing with images of my little boy running around, scared out of his mind and trying to find someone to help him.
What if he watched his parents die? Will he be able to forget something like that and recover from something like that? What if his invisible scars never fade, even after all the love I’ve sworn to give him?
I can't let the need for revenge swallow him whole. I can’t have August growing up without a sense of justice even if it means setting every hand that touched him aflame. His enemies are mine now and I don’t hold grudges. I seek revenge until I’m the only one left.
Everything that can harm my monkey’s physical and mental health starts flashing in front of my eyes and the torture I create for myself only breaks when a warm mouth presses against my knuckles, bringing me back to reality.
“ Micah . What about him?” I ask in a daze.
If there's someone other than that wretched Queen, I have a score to settle with; it’s him. Not only did Micah actively take part in my torture, but he was the one who led the attack on August’s pack.
I vividly remember the day he threw that little boy in my cell and never came back. The bastard got a promotion for the successful attack and his bravery .
“We’re sorry, Princess Nevaeh, but he’s still in the wind. But I assure you we’re doing our best to find him.” I manage a small smile at Khatri.
He looks determined enough, so I don’t push.
“Just Nevaeh is fine.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Princess.”
Yeah, I don’t think he got my point.
“Where are we with Prince Harvey?” Grace asks.
I’ve seen Grace invested in trying to find Harvey since the day I got here, and I don’t mind her enthusiasm—not one bit actually—but there is a hint of desperation in her voice that's odd to me.
I don’t think even Grace realizes it, and as long as her strange obsession helps me find my dumbass, I won’t mention anything.
“Close, but we need a little more time. It's hard to track a Horseman that doesn't want to be found.”
“The sooner the better. We just infiltrated the biggest coven and aided in escaping their precious prisoners.” The way Angel says prisoners seems to burn his throat.
“There’s a war brewing, so expect retaliation. Increase security measures and proof the kingdom for surprise attacks. We can’t afford a single mistake.”
Angel reads the list of things that need to be adjusted, and everyone diligently takes notes.
“Send word to our allies who aren’t involved in civil wars for possible aid. Though I’m sure we won’t need it. And Khatri? Find Harvey. Fast. I need to take my mate home, where it’s safe.”
Is the room getting hotter?
I can’t stop stealing glances at Angel under my lashes as he commands the room. His voice is firm, along with his instructions, but his hand in mine remains gentle.
“Dismissed.”
Yeah… I’m totally fucked.
As soon as the warriors leave, it becomes clear how different this group portrays themselves in front of an audience. Seiji slumps back in his seat, and his goofiness returns while Hazel drops her feet on the table, crossing them at the ankles.
“I’m hungry.” Patting his stomach, Angel searches me to see if today is the day I will ask for food on my own. I haven’t yet, but talking about food and eating it without any consequences is helping me slowly build an appetite.
“Can we have Chinese? I liked that tangy chicken you gave me last time.”
“I was thinking pizza, but whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“It’s so unfair how Anxo agrees with everything that comes out of Nevaeh’s mouth. He is always saying no to me for everything,” I hear Seiji whisper— not so quietly .
“It’s sweet.” Grace sighs dreamily.
Lately, Anxo has been trying to teach me how phones work. I understand about half of what he says but Angel doesn’t mind repeating the same thing four times.
“Of course, you think so,” Rick scoffs in disgust.
Grace dejectedly busies herself on her tab, completely missing all of us glaring at dick.
I don’t understand why Grace deals with this tool when he blatantly disrespects her like this. I’m all for fighting for your love against the world , but Rick is not worth fighting for.
I’m tempted to knock his teeth out when Angel holds me back. Leaning closer, he murmurs, “We’ve tried. She needs to do it herself when she’s ready.”
Sensing my anger, Anxo waits until I assure him that I will keep my opinions and fists to myself. For now .
Rick pushes his chair to stand up and I watch his every move. There’s something off about Rick and his friend, who has been silent this entire meeting but keeps fidgeting and rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants.
When Grace’s worried eyes look up to check if Rick has left yet, I feel this intense need to let him know the kind of unhinged people she is related to. I want him to know what will happen the next time he tries to put my sister down.
Before Rick can leave with his buddy in tow, I motion for him to stop and bend down so I can bestow a little parting advice to him.
Mason, the fidgety friend who is substantially smarter than Rick, tries to leave, but Rick, being the egotistical asshole he is, doesn’t mind bending to my will.
Without taking my eyes off Grace, who is purposely avoiding mine, I drop my voice to a whisper. “The next time you insult my sister, I’ll cut your fingers off before aiming south, understood?”
I lean back when I don’t hear him acknowledge me and enjoy how fast the color drains from Rick’s face. Giving him my signature deranged grin, I watch his friend drag Rick away before I make good on my word.
“I’m sorry about him,” Grace whispers, almost too quiet to hear over the angry voices in my head.
Then leave him .
That’s what I want to say, but as if Angel read my mind, he reassures her for me, knowing whatever comes out of my mouth will be wrong timing.
Seiji clicks his tongue to get my attention and says, “Don’t worry about Rick, he can be a real dick sometimes... Oh, who am I kidding? He's a dick, period. Not even the perfectly circumcised and ravishing kind, but the slightly crooked and weird looking kind, you know when it’s a little—”
Thankfully, Hazel cuts off Seiji's extremely inappropriate rant on types of male genitals by pushing his chair with her foot making him falls back.
I would’ve done it myself if I wasn’t so busy choking on air. I’m sure my face is flushed red, mirroring Grace, who looks ready to slip under the table to hide.
“You’ll get used to filtering out his words in your head on a daily basis,” Anxo adds sympathetically.
Will I, though?