the door and stood back so that Adarian could enter the small cubicle. As he sat down, the lights dimmed and he was allowed to see his visitor on the other side of the glass.
Adarian glared at the blond man who was drumming his fingers idly against the tabletop. “What are you doing here?”
“You told me to keep you posted.” That gravelly tone was spoken at a level that no human could hear. Only a demon.
And while he’d wanted updates on his son, he’d assumed they’d come through Caleb or in his cell at night. Not out in the open like this. The last thing he needed was for someone to identify the creature in front of him.
“Then speak and be quick about it.”
His visitor arched a brow at Adarian. Shifting slightly in his chair, he caused a portion of his black button-down shirt to fall open, revealing a grisly skull tattoo in the center of his chest. His black eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t order me around, Adarian. I’m not one of your slaves. I’m your master.”
“No,” Adarian corrected. “You’re my partner.”
“ You bargained with me,” he reminded Adarian.
“True, and you accepted, thereby making us equals. You help me. I help you. That exchange of services makes us partners.”
Grim didn’t appear to care for that in the least. But then Death thought himself above everyone and everything.
One day, he would learn the truth. No one was above dying.
Not even Death.
Grim growled in the back of his throat. “I now know where your son gets his most irritating qualities.”
Adarian didn’t comment on that. “How goes his training?”
“Slowly. He lacks focus. Not to mention, whoever blocked his powers did a great job of it. Unlocking them isn’t as easy as it should be. Some of that is because he hasn’t been really hurt. Yet. His mother has wrapped him in a layer of love so thick, it’s hard to breach. The kid needs tragedy in his life. Without that, it’s impossible to push his hatred and make him act on it. He needs someone to hate with a burning passion.”
Adarian curled his lip. He couldn’t afford for his son to be slow. The sooner Nick learned how to hate, the sooner he’d learn to kill, and the quicker Adarian would be able to leave this place and have the freedom he’d craved since the moment of his birth.
Unlike his son, he’d always known who and what he was. His mother had purposefully conceived him to destroy his own father and to buy her freedom from the dark primal gods she served. From the moment of his birth, he’d been breastfed venom and succored on bitter hatred for everyone and everything. As soon as his powers had manifested and he’d killed his father, his mother had sold him to Noir to be enslaved and used by the sadistic god who’d wanted to destroy his enemies and take over the human realm.
Adarian still had nightmares over that quaint experience. If he’d ever possessed a shred of decency or humanity, his time spent in Azmodea had destroyed it.
And those gory centuries spent there were why he’d gutted his mother the instant he’d escaped Noir’s custody. Why he would never allow himself to be enslaved again. Not to anyone.
Even Grim.
But Grim wanted to see the Apocalypse he’d been created for. And like Adarian, Grim didn’t want to be in a subservient role when he delivered it. He wanted to lead. Adarian could respect that.
However, he didn’t really care about Grim. He wasn’t capable of caring.
At least that was the lie he told himself.
“You want your Apocalypse, I want my revenge. Train my boy and deliver his powers to me. I need them.”
Grim nodded. “If you would allow me to kill his mother—”
“No!” Adarian growled. “You harm her and I will rain down a hell on you that you can’t even imagine.”
Grim’s eyes snapped fire from the fury he kept repressed because he knew better than to show it to Adarian. Not even Grim would get away with that. “Fine. But you better remember what I’ve done to