Bestowed (The Soulbound #2)

Chapter 1 The Present

Getting dumped butt naked in the middle of a smoking car crash isn’t exactly what I’d call a gift. But I guess Big Daddy Death and I have very different definitions of bestowal. That’s what he called it, right? Or at least, what he implied.

That making me feel human again would help me handle the wraith.

At first, I think it’s just Death's twisted little “lesson.” A cruel joke dressed up like wisdom. Because let’s be honest, reverting me to factory settings doesn’t sound like much of a solution.

The wraith is dangerous because she’s stronger than a Grim Reaper trapped in limbo. She can teleport, vanish, match the speed of a car going full throttle. She can drain a Reaper’s energy, and regular weapons don’t even touch her.

So yeah, it would make perfect sense if Death turned me human just for the punchline.

But then I try to move. And unfortunately, I do feel it.

The asphalt beneath me is freezing, unforgiving. It scrapes my palms and bites into my knees as I push myself upright.

My body, my actual human body, hurts.

This isn’t that distant hum of Reaper pain, where agony feels more like an echo than an experience. It’s not that metaphysical tug in my core, like being summoned by a memory instead of a body.

No. This is raw. Brutal. Nerve-screaming.

It’s a sharp, unfiltered kind of pain that feels like living. The bad kind.

I suck in a breath, and my lungs burn. Smoke. Gasoline. Blood. All three hit the back of my throat like a punch and curl into my chest, branding me from the inside out.

And suddenly, violently, I’m aware.

Of everything.

The way the cold air stings my skin. The way my damp hair sticks to my forehead like it’s trying to choke me. The sound of sirens in the distance.

And most of all?

The way three serial killers are staring at me like I just clawed my way out of the grave, rolled in glitter, and slapped on a bowtie.

Cassian. Nathaniel. Talon.

Each of them blood-soaked, wide-eyed, and not even blinking.

Nathaniel watches me with a beautiful kind of frown. Like part of him still can’t believe what he just saw. Did I blink into existence, naked? Rise from the ground like some unholy little hellspawn? Or maybe… literally fall from the sky?

You’d believe all three, judging by the look on his face.

Cassian’s mouth is slightly parted in disbelief, too, as if he’s, just like Nathaniel, not sure whether this is his wildest dream come true… or his worst nightmare. With tits.

And Talon—

Talon looks like he’s two seconds away from licking me to see if I’m real.

I should run.

Or maybe play dead.

Honestly, I have no idea which survival instinct applies best when you’ve just turned human again, and three murderers are staring at your completely naked body.

So all I do is push my fingers against the concrete as the first tangible signs of embarrassment flood my system. My heart—my very mortal heart—is pounding so loudly I can hear it.

The hands braced against the asphalt are sweating.

Adrenaline floods my veins like wildfire.

And it’s—

God.

It’s delicious.

It’s terrifying.

But I don’t even have time to process it, because Talon moves.

Just slightly. A tilt of his head, a slow flex of his fingers. Like he’s doing the math of me. Like he’s experiencing this with me. Through me.

“Little Grim?” he asks, his voice rough, the kind of rasp you get from crying your heart out while thinking your friend is dying, and the Grim Reaper you knew was supposed to take his soul just vanished.

“Uh… hi?” I say, unsure.

I’ll admit it, I’m awkward as hell right now. But can you blame me? No one in their right mind would know how to handle a situation like this. I need a lifeline. A sign. Some kind of guide through this mess.

I look around for the only help I can think of.

Where is my goddamn raven?

But there’s nothing.

No shimmer of obsidian feathers in the air. No sarcastic caw echoing through the void. No weight on my shoulder. No flicker of that familiar presence that used to trail behind me like a shadow with wings.

Talon clears his throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Should we, uh… talk about what just happened, or—”

Does he mean me saving Cassian? The whole interspecies fingering situation afterward? Or the part where I puffed out and grew a body?

Yeah. No idea which part he wants to unpack. And honestly, I don’t know if I want to talk about any of it. Thankfully, I don’t have to. Not yet.

“Not now,” Nathaniel interrupts him, his voice wound so tight it’s practically trembling. He doesn’t even look at Talon. His stare is locked on me, wide and unblinking, like I might vanish. Or detonate. Or both.

And Cassian…

He takes a step closer.

And that’s when my newly breakable body chooses to spiral into full-blown panic.

Because being near them when they couldn’t really touch me was one thing. But being helpless, vulnerable, in front of them now?

I didn’t sign up for this.

How much do I actually know about them, anyway? Other than the fact that they’re sexy as hell, dangerously impulsive, and have murdered, in cold blood, two people right in front of me?

Um… nothing.

And clearly, they preferred to keep it that way.

They have secrets.

I’m their loose end.

A walking liability.

What if they preferred me as a ghost over a living, breathing human?

My breath hitches in my throat as another wave of some unknown emotions rush through me. Fear? Something jagged and sour, like… betrayal?

Oh god.

I led them to that pool girl who was supposed to die but didn’t. I stayed at their weird base, lingered under their weird roof, and helped them stalk a woman to her definitely-not-sinister candy shop.

We knocked her out.

Dragged her to that hell-pit of a basement.

Then killed her.

That was murder number two. Right in front of me.

Then we did something unspeakable to another Grim Reaper—just to turn the Candy Maker into a goddamn wraith and fight for our lives.

And after all that?

I saved Cassian’s soul. Shoved it back into his body even though he was supposed to die. That scar on his very naked, very sculpted chest? Yeah. That’s mine. There was a hole there before.

I was a witness.

A confidant.

An accomplice.

They shouldn’t hurt me. They can’t.

But the look in Cassian’s eyes is seriously… weird. He’s changed, gone dark and unreadable, and he’s still coming closer.

I don't think. I just react. My palms hit the ground, scraping over shattered glass and rough asphalt as I scramble back like some kind of wounded thing. My body’s shaking, lungs burning, and every instinct I’ve got is screaming “run”.

“Okay, listen,” I rasp, my voice hoarse from all this smoke and burning wreckage clawing at my throat. “I know this looks bad—”

“Bad?” Talon says from behind Cassian.

“Yes! Yes, I know it’s weird and sudden, but please, just… don’t—”

And just as I’m about to deliver the most cliché line imaginable, already picturing Cassian slashing a dagger at me—one my raven made, by the way, by splitting a scythe into three Cassian-sized murder toys—

He bends down.

Picks something off the ground.

And hurls it at me.

I flinch. Blink. It hits me with a wet slap.

“Put this on,” he rasps. “You’ve got goosebumps.”

I glance down. My fingers close around something heavy, damp, and God, sticky. It squelches in my grip, and I instantly regret being able to feel this much now that I have a body again.

It’s a jacket. His jacket. Bloodied, grimy, and still warm from his skin. Still echoing with everything that happened before I went one-on-one with Death.

I stare at it for a moment, trying to process. My mind is still spinning, thoughts slipping sideways every time I try to focus.

“I do?” I ask.

The question is genuine. I haven’t noticed the cold. But his eyes flick down to my chest, and something hardens in his jaw.

“Skye,” he says flatly, “I can see your tits.”

Oh.

I follow his gaze, and… yeah. There they are. Front and center. No shirt, no bra, no anything between me and the world but a fine layer of ash.

“Right,” I say, and it comes out faint, dazed. “I’m naked.”

But I still don’t do anything about it.

“You think?” he snaps.

I squeeze the jacket in my hands.

“But you wouldn’t hurt a naked woman,” I say, almost to myself. “Right?”

His expression freezes.

“Hurt you?” He laughs, short, sharp, and humorless. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “You just… looked like you were going to stab me.”

Cassian’s mouth opens like he’s going to argue. Then closes again. He looks at me like I’ve grown another head. Nope, scratch that. All three of them do. Talon and Nathaniel look completely incredulous, too.

“I’m serious,” I add softly. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

Nathaniel sighs, dragging a blood-smeared hand down his face. The motion smears the dried streak across his temple lower toward his cheek.

“I don’t know what that wraith did to you,” he mutters, “but I think it knocked something loose.”

“Put the goddamn jacket on,” Cassian snaps, his voice rougher now. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Well, maybe she just likes being naked in front of an audience,” Talon says with a smirk.

“Not that I’m complaining. But we did just walk away from a flaming car wreck.

People are staring, some are already on the phone with emergency services, and, oh yeah, we’ve got a corpse in the trunk.

A very illegal, very murdered corpse. Not exactly the best time for a thirst trap, don’t you think, Skye? ”

My stomach twists.

Right.

The Candy Maker. Wrapped in plastic. Shoved in the trunk.

The murderer got murdered.

That should feel like a win. But all I feel is dread.

If someone reports this, and they probably will, that woman must’ve had friends, what happens then? I’ll be the one they hunt. If they catch me, they’ll cuff me. Put me on trial. Lock me away. And I’ll deserve it, won’t I? Even if the corpse in the trunk had it coming, even if I came back wrong—

Wait.

Can I be locked away?

Can I phase through bars?