Page 81 of Burn of Obsidian

“Come on,” Jax said gently, guiding her toward the sofa. He sat in the middle, pulling her until her legs draped across his lap and her head lay on his shoulder. He wasn’t familiar with comforting someone, the idea alien to him. With his brothers, it would be a pat on the back, and maybe a fight to release some energy. With Thea, he was lost. He wasn’t a man of many words, but right then, he wished he was.

So, he simply stayed with her, hoping his presence was enough.

MATE HURT? Beast asked, an anxious purr vibrating through his chest. Thea frowned at the sound, but didn’t move when his hand found its way beneath her T-shirt to stroke along her back.

No, he replied, knowing his beast wouldn’t understand grief.

Beast increased the strange purr, the tenor a sound he wasn’t familiar with making before. WE KEEP HER SAFE?

Always.

Thea sniffled, shuffling back just enough she could face him. “We forgot to pick up Ruhne.”

Jax hadn’t forgotten. “He’s playing bartender with Sam. He’ll be okay there for a while.”

A jagged nod, her pink hair sweeping forward before he brushed it away. “You don’t have to stay,” she said, her voice hoarse. She tried to get off his lap, but he simply tightened his hold. “Jax.”

“Tell me about him,” he said, feeling her stiffen for a second.

Her hand moved to lay flat against his heart, as if feeling the beat. “He was the one who taught me how to steal.”

Jax breathed out a laugh, and her eyes widened with that light he ached to return. Sorrow he knew intimately, but it was her joy that he found addictive. And somewhere in his dark soul, he craved it – craved her.

“It’s true,” she continued with a small smile. “It took him an entire summer to teach me one card trick, and from there I practised until I’d mastered it. Obviously, he didn’t expect me to use the skill for a career. Not that he knows.” She paused for a moment. “He thinks I’m a librarian.”

“Hmm,” Jax hummed. “Explains all the slutty books.”

“It’s called smutty.” Thea laughed, slapping him lightly on the arm. “And they’re not all smutty, and they have great storylines.”

Jax nodded. “Sure.”

“They do.”

“You’ll have to read them to me then, so I can decide.”

Her lips quirked once more, her cheeks no longer wet, but still puffy. “But yeah, dad’s been sick for as long as I can remember. He kept going into remission, but this time was particularly bad. The normal treatment wasn’t doing anything except make him feel worse, which is why I found an alternative.”

Her eyes glazed, a frown marring her brow. Jax continued to brush circles on her lower back, giving her as long as she needed.

“It’s my fault,” she said after a moment, her words barely above a whisper. “I’m the one that made him sick.”

Her eyes continued to be cast inward, her thoughts lost, spiralling before he cupped her jaw and brought her back to him. “Thea…”

“Dad didn’t know what I was,” she said, her voice dripping with pain. “They didn’t understand why a baby was put in a cage until I was older. Then they realised I wasn’t put there for punishment, but for the safety of everyone else. They took me in and cuddled me as their own, unaware I was a faerie that could steal life from others.”

Jax waited, his thumb catching the tears as they began to fall once more.

“They didn’t know I was a Grim.”

He’d never heard of it, but then again the Fae weren’t exactly open with their information.

“And when they’d figured it out, it was too late.” Thea swallowed, as if struggling for the right words. “Grim is a lower caste of Fae, and often found within the darker courts. Our magic is slow, and it would take years of contact to actually kill someone. But essence – your lifeforce – can be slowly stolen by physical contact. Untrained children would be sent to absorb as much as they could before being sacrificed, so the lifeforce they’d taken could be collected. A Grim’s hair changes depending on the amount of essence they possess.”

Jax tucked a strand of her hair behind her pointed ear, still coloured pink. “What does silver mean?”

“I couldn’t find much on adult Grims, and even Ilzake, the High Lord I know, couldn’t answer many questions as few reach adulthood. There are still Fae that want more power, so use castes like Grims to advance their own magic. It’s the glitter in my hair that gives me away, and I'd rather not be hunted for something I can't control.”

“So, you can still absorb life?”