“Oh, yeah?” Thaddeus snorted while shaking his head. “And what is it you need to get all the way?”
“You.”
Sandy tried not to react, but the cold washing over him was hard to ignore.
“Please. You said it yourself, I’m a weak mage. Soaking up my powers won’t keep you young. You’re a soul eater, not a god.” Thaddeus frowned. “Though, come to think of it, most gods are portrayed looking old, so maybe you are on your way to becoming a god. I think I can spot a little gray in the stubble there.”
Adams took a step closer to Thaddeus, and Sandy growled. If he’d been alive, he’d tear the fucker’s throat out, paint the living room in blood. This weak creature had put his mate in danger. He deserved to die.
“Not you alone, no.” Grim looked around the room.
Thaddeus glanced at Sandy long enough for Grim to look at him too, but without seeing him.
“You’re the Angel Maker.” The words were directed at Grim, but Thaddeus’ eyes never left Sandy. What he was trying to say, Sandy didn’t know.