Chapter 5 Hammer
Hammer
“She’s pretty bad.” Next to me, Warden mutters his thoughts. “I thought I was bad.”
“You are.” Frowning, I watch as Destiny tries to hit the cue ball but ends up dragging her stick against the velvet. Feeling pride bubbling up, the demand to stand up for her crawls up my throat, and more words fall out. “She’s never played, nor does she want to. Leave her be.”
I needed something to busy her with. Right now, the clubhouse isn’t very entertaining.
The best thing I could really offer her is one of my hobbies.
Playing pool and taking money from those who dare challenge me is one of the little things I enjoy.
Right now, she’s still practicing the basics. She’s not ready to start making bets.
Destiny makes this little huffing sound when she tries again, her face pinched in concentration.
“Don’t go for the black ball.” Taking a sip from my bottle, the beer does nothing to calm me. After last night, I’ve been on edge terribly. I don’t want to admit it, but being near her isn’t enough.
I want to touch her again. Make her moan my name. My fingers won’t be enough. Not only do I want to plant myself deep inside of her, but I’ll never want to leave.
The bottle empties with a few bobs of my throat before I set it down amongst the others.
Is it the alcohol making me this worked up, or have I always been secretly sex-crazed?
Destiny ignores me, smacking the cue ball into it. We all watch as it barely avoids sinking.
“How long do you plan on babysitting?” He drinks from his own bottle, sighing under his breath. “Judge is stressing about those bastards making a move.”
I’m not babysitting. This is… different.
“We’ll be able to handle anything they throw our way.” Avoiding answering his question, I watch as she scrapes the velvet again. This time, she manages to sink a ball.
Her eyes light up in silent victory, and I catch myself tracing the slight curve to her lips.
“Play her in a game.” Tilting my head toward the table, Warden’s quick to grimace. “If you win, I’ll pay you back for the last match.”
I’ve already pocketed enough of his money; I’m sure I can handle losing a hundred bucks.
Warden doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet, joining her.
“Play stripes.” Sitting back, I drink in her annoyance as he sets up a game. “He can’t hit a solid to save his life.”
“Fuck off.” He sends a glare in my direction, and I catch myself smiling.
It’s always easy to get under his skin. Makes beating him easy, even if I’ve had too many to drink.
Destiny glances my way, her lips pursed together. She didn’t want to play at all, not even to practice. I need her to enjoy herself.
“Come here.” Curling my finger at her, I’m satisfied when she listens. Reaching for her, my hands glide against her sides, and there’s no denying how soft her shirt is.
She chokes on her next breath before her hands are on mine. She’s stopping me from touching her, but her flush is telling. I bet she’s still thinking about last night, too. Muttering something about my drinking too much, I’m half-willing to agree with her.
If anything, I’m getting tired of holding myself back from touching her like I want to. If she’d let me, I’d take her back to my room so I could entertain her there. We can find our own ways to have fun.
Looking up at her, I drink in her flush. She’s so pretty when she’s pink. Can she tell what I’m thinking? Is that it?
“You need to beat him.” The words leave me instead, pride coating them. “He’s terrible at this game.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she squeezes my fingers. Instead of pushing them off her, she keeps my hands in place. “It’s just a game. What’s the point in trying so hard if I’m getting nothing out of it?”
So, she needs a reward? I can do that. My mind immediately goes to an unfamiliar place, to the memory of her breath catching under my hands last night.
“What do you want?” Sliding my hands to her hips, I squeeze them, feeling the delicate curve of her waist through the thin fabric.
I want to touch her again. I want to make her moan. I want—
“You get rid of the handcuffs. How about that?” She tilts her head, her green eyes sharp, challenging me. “I’ll try, then.”
A cold knot tightens in my gut. No. What if she leaves?
“I’m not going anywhere.” Huffing the words, she reads my mind. That, or I’ve spoken my thoughts out loud by accident. Her assurance, annoyed as it is, loosens something in my chest.
Considering her words, I wonder if she means what she says. Could she find herself growing comfortable like so many others who have ended up here because of loss? The idea isn’t just appealing; it’s a sudden, desperate hope.
“Fine. I’ll get rid of the handcuffs.” Nodding, I’m blinded by the sudden curve of her lips.
A real, genuine smile. It transforms her face, chases the shadows from her eyes.
She must be caught off guard by it, too, because it’s gone in a matter of seconds, replaced by that familiar guarded look.
But I saw it. And I want to see it again.
With the game set, she pulls from my grip and returns to the table. Their game begins. I lean back in my seat, my arms crossed, but I’m not watching Warden. My entire focus is on her.
I take in her frame as she plays. The way she leans over the table, all fierce concentration, her brow furrowed. My throat goes tight when she bites her full bottom lip, her eyes narrowed on the cue ball.
There’s a strange stirring in my chest, a warmth that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature, when her eyes light up after she sinks a ball. It’s a flash of pure, uncomplicated triumph.
She misses a lot of shots, but so does Warden. He’s getting cocky. Even against a novice, he’s too competitive for his own good.
My cock stirs, heavy and interested, when she lifts her eyes to meet mine for just a second across the table—a silent, defiant glance—before lining up her next shot and sinking a striped ball with a clean thunk.
If I can teach her how to play properly, she can take Warden’s spot as my partner during co-op games. Look at me, thinking about the future. A future that has her in it, standing by my side at this table, as… something else. Mine.
The idea settles deep in my bones, feeling more right than anything has in a long damn time.
My phone buzzes, and I almost ignore it. However, Grim’s contact makes me sober up. Must’ve been a slow day at the funeral home.
He’s outside, waiting.
Fuck. To think he’s already taken care of her request.
The game is taking too long.
Standing up, I coast toward her end of the table. Stepping close, I notice the way her eyes widen. Her cheeks flush. Her mouth…
“Dude. Don’t even think about it.” From the other end, Warden growls.
Holding my hand out, I curl my fingers, beckoning her stick. She hesitates before giving it to me.
With Warden’s bitching in the background, I sink her last three balls without interruption. Already knowing which hole the black will sink into, I can’t help but get a little cheeky when Destiny leans against the table, amazed.
“Yeah, show off for your girl.” He scowls, his nose scrunching as the last ball sinks. “I should win by disqualification.”
Reaching behind me, I pull out my wallet. Pulling out a few bills, I toss them next to all the balls he’s yet to sink. “Give me ten, and I’ll come win it back.”
With that, I’m guiding Destiny toward the front.
“How did you do that?” She’s looking at me in awe. It takes effort not to let that go to my head.
“I like two things in this world. Pool, and money. That game scratches both.” Might need to add a third thing to my list, but does it matter if this beauty is the only one who can satisfy it? “Come on. Someone’s waiting for us.”
She’s confused at first, before she clings to my side when she notices the hearse parked in the shadow of night.
Her hand slides around my bicep, a brand of heat through my sleeve, and I have to do a double-take to make sure the sensation is real.
My heart gives a single, hard thud against my ribs, reminding me of its presence.
“The Grim Reaper drives a hearse,” she murmurs, her voice hushed. She frowns, shaking her head as if to dislodge the image. “Is he crazy?”
“One of the sanest out of us.” I rub the back of my neck, the lie of omission bitter on my tongue. I don’t tell her about his hobby of whispering the wrong cause of death to coroners, the way he treats human mortality like a private joke only he understands. That’s not crazy. It’s just… Grim.
The front door creaks open, and she flinches, her fingers digging into my arm. The skeleton man makes his appearance, all elongated shadows and stillness.
Most people react the same way, their eyes snagging on the sunken cheeks, the pits of his eyes that seem to swallow the light. But it’s his smile they find unsettling—a lipless stretch of skin over bone that never quite reaches his empty gaze.
“He’s a nice guy,” I say, the truth feeling flimsy in the face of his presence. Her grip doesn’t loosen. “Come on.”
“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Grim’s voice is a dry rustle, like leaves on pavement.
“Not a cloud in the sky. Perfect for a final journey.” His smile stretches as he drinks in Destiny’s appearance, his gaze lingering a moment too long on her features.
“Ah, the red hair. The freckles. Makes sense now.”
While he hums at his own secret revelations, I’m frowning at her side. Not wanting him to reveal said thoughts, a flicker of anger blooms in my chest.
“Did you bring them?” She’s the one who speaks next, a surprising core of strength hardening her tone. “What I asked for?”
Slipping out of her hold, I flatten my hand against the small of her back instead. Feeling the fine tremor, the corded tension in her shoulders, I sweep my thumb in a slow, soothing arc. I want to absorb the shake, to draw the fear out of her and into me, where it can’t hurt her.
She looks up at me, and her eyes are welling with a universe of emotion—grief, fear, and for the first time, hope. Emotions I want to drown in, to soothe until only peace remains.
“Of course. I wouldn’t go so far out of my way to be empty-handed.” In a glide, he moves to the back of the hearse, his steps nothing but unnerving, yet silent and graceful.
He returns, his long, pale fingers cradling two urns like sacred relics. There’s no denying the wave of relief that washes over Destiny’s face as he hands them to her. It’s about as much closure as she can get in her shoes, and the sight of it cracks something open in my chest.
He hands them off, his attention slithering back to me. “I was expecting more difficulty,” he starts, his smile tightening into something more like a rictus snarl as he accepts my cash.
“That entire town is overrun by vermin. Yet, not a single one of their force stopped to ask what I was doing at such a… delicate scene. To think I’d gone through the effort of preparing such delightful excuses.” He tsks, a sound of genuine disappointment. “A wasted opportunity for art.”
Grunting, my attention floats back to Destiny, the way it always does. She’s cradling the urns, her face a mask of pained love, and a protective, fierce ache blooms under my sternum.
I don’t just want to touch her. I want her to be whole. I want her to look at me and see a future, not just a shield. I want her to want my shoulder to lean on, my bed to sleep in, my life to share.
It’s a realisation that makes the ground feel less stable, ready to give out beneath my feet at any given moment.
“I appreciate the quick work,” I tell Grim, my voice low. “Keep this between us. I don’t want Judge knowing I sent one of ours there during such times.”
“I won’t breathe a word.” He glides toward the front door, cracking it open. A sliver of the gloomy evening spills in. “Without this group, I wouldn’t be able to afford such beautiful flowers for the home.” He winks, a grotesque, slow-motion drop of one lid over a dark eye. “Until next time.”
He leaves the lot as quickly and silently as he appeared, his purpose served.
“Thank you.” She whispers the words, and when she looks at me, her eyes are big and clear. There is no room for anger or distrust. Just a profound, staggering appreciation. The small, hesitant curve on her lips is everything. It’s a sunrise after a lifetime of night.
“Let’s get inside. It’s getting late.” Leading her toward the front, I prepare for Warden to demand a rematch. I’ll deal with him, with anyone, once I’ve tucked her back into our room.
She needs space, even I can see that. A room to grieve, to breathe. But the want is a physical ache in my bones. Until she calls for me, until she needs me, I’ll stand guard.
I’ll do whatever I can to make her happy. And I’ll wait for the day she realizes that her happiness is a thing I will build, and protect, even if I have to take some risks.