Page 52 of Finders Reapers

With rows of cabanas off to the side and people partying, laughing, and drinking even in the daytime hours, I couldn’t help but admire the patterns in the pool tiles, distorted by the ripples of the water in the rarely seen wind rolling over the pool.

With my towel rolled under my arm, I was self-conscious. My new body had bumps and rolls in places that my old one did not.

I’d had breast implants before, so I wasn’t unaccustomed to having large boobs, but somehow it hit differently to know that my bust wasn’t perfected by a scalpel, and my stomach, while flat, didn’t have lines that came from liposculpture or a metabolism that raced through food like ketamine at a rave.

Jamal hadn’t seemed bothered when I’d first walked out of the suite in a bikini and a sarong, but I got the impression that even if I had a hunchback, he wouldn’t have made a comment.

An equal opportunity fuck boy.

We found two sun loungers by the side of the pool, and I closed my eyes as I sat on the edge and felt the warmth of the sun in my skin.

“Do you want a drink?” Jamal asked.

I shook my head but smiled. “I’m going to swim.”

His eyes flicked to the water and then back to me. He blinked slowly. “Fuck.”

“What?” I cocked my head to the side.

“I’m a stupid tosser.”

I bit back a laugh. “Are you?”

Jamal rubbed his hand over his face. “You died in a pool. We should have gone to the gym.” He frowned and stared down at the water as if it had personally offended him.

“Jamal,” I said, drawing his attention back to me. “I can’t remember dying. It's all good. I did swim in college and high school. There are lifeguards. I’ve got this.”

“Yeah, about that. You really can’t remember?” He asked.

I shrugged. “It’s a blank.”

Jamal’s frown did not leave his face. “Maybe I shouldn’t drink.”

I gave him a look. “I’mfine,”

“Memory loss isn’t typically something that new Reapers experience.” He continued.

“I’m fine,” I pressed.

Jamal flopped down next to me before making himself comfortable. I couldn’t help but notice the lines of his body. His sculpted stomach, perfectly tapered waist, broad shoulders. Tall, lean, but not skinny.

Then I remembered I wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and I was openly checking his out.

“It’s the Grim bond, by the way.” Jamal grinned, but it was bittersweet.

I startled. “What’s that?”

“You’re checking me out because there’s a bond that connects the Reapers in a Grim, like a leash.” Jamal rubbed his head against the grain of his short, coarse hair.

My brow furrowed, concerned. “There’s a magical bond tying me to all of you?” I squeaked. “Is it permanent? What does it do? Who put it there?”

Jamal shrugged and sat back. “Probably some demon in admin. Rubber stamping that paperwork that Charon likes to complain about so much. To be honest, we don’t tend to ask questions.”

“Charon does like to complain about paperwork,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jamal’s nostrils flared, but his gaze remained fixed above my neck even though I could tell he was holding him back from looking.

My stomach fluttered, and my core tightened. “This bond is messing with my head,” I fanned myself.