Page 91 of His Favorite Color is Blood

Grim walked outside in all his leather glory. He called Strelka over, and after some petting, he locked her in the house before walking up to Misha with a smirk. The grimace stretched the scars on his face, only reminding Misha of all they’d been through to be together. In retrospect, he knew Grim had been right about the whole marriage thing. They were a perfect match. They understoodone another and mended each other’s wounds in a way no one else could. He couldn’t imagine ever getting bored of Grim and his tender touch.

With Grim’s support, Misha even got the courage to gather all the intel he had on Zero’s organization and handed it over to the police anonymously. If more people could be saved, and more monsters punished, his heart would be much lighter.

“Ready to go?” asked Grim, putting on his shades.

“I was the one asking.” Misha came closer and pulled Grim down for a kiss, as standing on his toes wasn’t an option in prosthetics. “My pretty peacock.”

Grim blinked and squeezed Misha’s ass with a sly smile. “Wow, maybe we can finally take those pictures.”

Misha gave a fake gasp. “No! My hair’s out of place.” He ran his hands over Grim’s chest. Scars or no scars, Grim would always be his hero, always the only person Misha had eyes for.

“Obviously not now.” Grim pulled on Misha’s hand and led him to the front of the house. “Remember, you promised me at least one without the new legs. I’m counting on that.”

“Sure.” Misha reached up and fed Grim a strawberry. He’d learned to feel much more comfortable about the stumps since they became a couple. He didn’t hate how they looked anymore. He despised how they came to be, but there was no changing that. He could only look to the future. And if his stumps helped him meet his Prince Charming, then maybe the horror he’d been through was a cruel twist of fate.

Grim led the way to his bike, which was newly polished and gleamed in the sunlight as Grim mounted it. “Make sure you eat plenty. Don’t want you to get too drunk tonight.”

Another thing Misha loved about his new legs. He could safely sit at the back of Grim’s bike. It didn’t get old.

“You like me drunk.”

“I do!” shouted Grim over the noise of the engine. Misha rested his head against Grim’s back and smelled the leather cut, enjoying the knowledge that he was wearing Grim’s name. At the party, everyone would know.

Grim was the most dangerous man of all the Coffin Nails, and he was Misha’s only.

The End