A Reaper's Love (WindWorld) (5 page)

“Yeah but I cringed every time I put them
on.”

“I got hard every time I took them off
you,” he reminded her.

“That you did,” she said, reaching for his
hand.

They sat that way for a few minutes—neither
speaking—just staring into each other’s eyes. He finally reached up to tuck a
wisp of her blonde hair behind her ear.

She tilted her head to one side. “Want that
hug now?” she asked.

He looked past her to the nurse who was
hovering nearby.

Laci turned. “Do you gotta do nursey stuff
to him right now?”

The woman frowned. “Nursey stuff?” she
asked.

“Take his blood pressure, temperature?”

He didn’t need to see her face to know one
of Laci’s eyebrows was quirked in challenge.

“It can wait,” the nurse said. She headed
for the door. “Use your call button if you need me.” The door quietly snicked
shut.

Alone.

Her hand in his.

Her gaze lovingly caressing his face.

A face no longer so hideous he could not
bear to look at it.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

“Scoot over,” she ordered, removing her
hand from his, and he did.

She twisted around, brought her legs up on
the bed then stretched out beside him, turning to her side, her head on his
shoulder. Her left arm slid over his waist and he shackled it to him with his
right hand at her elbow.

“Mary Conover and Drew Bartel got married,”
she told him. “They have two little girls now. Belinda is two and Brandi is
four months. They are cute as little buttons. Drew is one proud papa bear.”

He knew what she was doing and remained
silent, his attention locked on her face.

“They built a kinda pretty skyway between
the buildings. It’s made entirely of high-impact, bulletproof glass. Floor,
ceiling, walls. I had to cross it this morning during one of the worst
thunderstorms we’ve had in a coon’s age.”

“Bet you liked that,” he said in the same
whispery voice.

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s
see. Oh yeah. They are serving Vietnamese food in the cafeteria for when we
have international day each week. I had sushi for the first time—hated it by
the way—and puked all afternoon. There was—”

He moved his hand from her arm to place his
finger across her lips. His pulled into a gentle smile. “You are so beautiful,”
he said, continuing to whisper.

“And you are handsome,” she stated in the
same low tone.

“I wasn’t.”

“You are handsome,” she said firmly.

“Who took my place?”

“No one could ever take your place,” she
replied. “Your chair has been empty all this time. He kept saying he needed to
appoint someone but he hasn’t. Now there’s no need.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do it,
chere
.
I can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s fine,” she said, continuing to
whisper as did he.

Searching her eyes, he moved his hand to
her neck and gently caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re not going to
ask, are you?” he questioned.

She smiled so sweetly he thought his heart
would break and shook her head no.

“I’ll tell you someday,” he promised.

“Okay.”

She sighed, closed her eyes and snuggled
closer to his side. He wrapped her in his arms and put his chin on the top of
her head.

When the nurse came to check on him, Taylor
and Laci were sound asleep in each other’s arms.

* * * * *

“Did you see him after the Conversion?”
Fallon asked the Supervisor in the cafeteria that evening.

“Yes, he looks just as he did when I sent
him on that last assignment except for the hair and eye color your hellion gave
him,” the older man replied. He indicated the chair beside him and the Reaper
pulled it out and took a seat. “You have something on your feeble mind, Misha?”

“Don’t start interrogating him in the
morning.”

The Supervisor broke off a piece of
sourdough bread from the little loaf beside his plate and began buttering it.
“I had not planned on doing so just yet.”

“Give him a few days, a week if possible,”
Fallon suggested. “Or better yet, let him bring up the subject.”

“Is that what you told Laci?”

“It’s what I wish someone had told you when
I was going through what he is,” the Reaper snapped as he folded his muscular
arms over his chest and settled back in the chair. “You have this uncanny
ability to make things much worse than they need to be.”

“It’s a gift,” the Supervisor observed
before taking a bite of the bread.

Fallon’s answer to that was a rude snort.

“I realize he needs time, Misha,” the
Supervisor said around chewing the bread. “Despite the severity of your
injuries, his were much worse and more soul-shattering than yours.” He gave his
agent a long, steady look. “I pledge to you I will tread softly with young Mr.
Reynaud. We will handle this on his schedule. Will that suit?”

“Humpf,” Fallon said. He uncrossed his arms
and got up from the table. Not bothering to push his chair back where it had
been, he walked away.

“Rude little twit,” the Supervisor said but
he smiled as he cut into his steak. In spite of the way he treated the agents
who worked for him, he genuinely liked most of them. Mikhail Fallon was his
favorite, though Taylor Reynaud ran a very close second.

* * * * *

Later than evening, Fallon came over to the
trauma unit to find Laci pacing outside Taylor’s room. “How’s our boy?” he
inquired.

“Doc’s in with him,” she said. “He says he
feels okay.”

“But?”

“He is whispering, Misha,” she said. “I’ve
yet to hear him speak above a whisper.”

Fallon frowned. “You think they damaged his
vocal chords?”

“I asked the doc to check,” she told him.

“It could just be he wasn’t allowed to
speak above a whisper, Laci,” Fallon suggested. “Or was afraid to speak any
louder.”

She flinched. “I never knew him to be
afraid of anything. Now?” She shook her head. “Even a shadow falling across the
bed startles him.”

“The gods only know what that bastard
Sharif and his psychos did to him. Give him time.”

“He doesn’t want to go back in the field,”
she said.

“Understandable. Neither did I,” Fallon
replied. “The first time I did after my injury, I felt like a raw recruit. I
doubted every decision I made. That kind of mindset can get you and your
partner captured or killed. That’s one of the reasons I decided to accept the
job as agent liaison here when it was offered to me.”

“I’d just as soon he stay safe,” she said,
“but you and I know there is no retirement from the Exchange. What will they do
with him?”

“Give him a desk to ride or put him in new
agent training.” He shrugged. “Neither are glamorous positions but they are
necessary and productive. I doubt he’d like it if they gave him a psych
withdrawal then expected him to hang around the Exchange and do nothing but
watch you go to work every day. That would unman him faster than you can say
‘the Supervisor is a prick’.”

“How would you like to spend a couple of
months in a containment cell, Fallon?” the man in question asked from behind
the Hell-hound.

Fallon shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first
time.”

“I could make it an entire year if you keep
pushing,” the Supervisor warned.

“You need me right where I am so stop
already with the threats,” Fallon said. He was looking at Laci and not the man
who had joined them. “I don’t think Laci is impressed with them.”

“Did Taylor tell you anything, Laci?” the
Supervisor asked, ignoring the Reaper.

“No,” she replied. “He isn’t ready to talk
about what happened.” She looked from Fallon to the Supervisor. “He may never
be ready.”

The Supervisor nodded. “That could well be
true but it would be best if he could.” He cast a frown at Fallon. “Don’t you
agree?”

“Aye,” Fallon said. “But it’s his call.”

The surgeon and his PA came out of Taylor’s
room at that moment.

“Do you know he could hear every word you
three were saying out here?” the physician inquired. His eyes were stormy.

“We’ve said nothing he doesn’t already
know,” the Supervisor snapped. “How is he?”

“His body has healed. The hellion we gave
him was a queen and very old. Her healing powers were very strong.”

“His throat?” Laci asked, her voice
modulated low.

“Dearling, he’s a Panthera. He can hear a
whisper from all the way down the hall,” Fallon said with a grin.

“There’s nothing wrong with his throat,”
the surgeon said, “but when he answered my questions, he was whispering.” He
shrugged. “I’m not sure why. Perhaps the psychiatrist can tell you. She’s
scheduled to interview him in the morning.”

“No,” Laci said. “He’s not ready for that
yet. I don’t want anyone pushing him.”

The Supervisor quirked a brow. “
You
don’t want?” he questioned.

She raised her chin, cast Fallon a quick
glance before she spoke. “I am exercising my rights as his Extension to speak
for him until he is ready and able to speak for himself.”

“
Chere
?”

The soft call from inside the room made
them all look toward the closed door.

“I’d say the whispering is because he wants
to,” Fallon said of the normal timbre of Taylor’s voice. He smiled. “You know
where I am if you need me.”

Frowning at the Reaper as he left them, the
Supervisor turned his attention to Laci. “Don’t overstep your bounds, girl,” he
advised.

“She knows what’s best for him!” Fallon
said from down the corridor.

“Impertinent little shit,” the Supervisor
said. “Doctor, walk with me.”

Laci waited until the older man and medical
personnel left before she took a deep breath, pushed open Taylor’s door and
went inside.

“Hey, Tater Tot,” she said with a smile.

He held his hand out to her and she took
it. He tugged gently and she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“My big, bad mama,” he said softly though
his voice was well above a whisper. He brought her hand to his lips to give it
a light kiss.

“You better believe it,” she agreed,
squeezing his hand.

“I can fight my own battles with them,” he
said. The chastisement was said quietly but firmly.

“I’ve no doubt you can,” she agreed. “I’m
just running interference until you’re back on your feet.”

He smiled. “That’s the Laci I know and love
and not the one giving me worried looks this afternoon.”

“Was I doing that?” she asked.

“There were a couple of times I thought you
would break down and cry and that’s the last thing I need,” he told her. “I
have no intention of doing it and I sure as hell don’t want you to.”

“Won’t then,” she said.

“Until you’re in your room tonight,” he
charged.

“You can’t fault me for that, Reynaud. This
has all been a lot to process.”

“Yeah, I guess your lover coming back from
the dead might be,” he said on a long sigh.

“You hid from me,” she accused.

“I did,” he replied with a nod. “I didn’t
want you to know I was…hurting. I thought they were going to execute me when
they were finished with me so it was best you get used to me being out of your
life.”

“Yet, here you are,” she said, giving him a
smile she did not feel.

“Yep, here I am.”

“So what now?” she inquired.

“Agent training sounds boring as hell but
it’s better than riding a desk,” he said. “They aren’t ever going to let you or
me go so I’ll make the best of the situation.” He looked down at their clenched
hands. “He’s going to want me back in the field.”

“Tell him to go to hell,” she said. “Fallon
does all the time.”

“I’m not Fallon.”

“True, but you can be just as tough when
you want to be.”

He snorted. “The only man as tough as Misha
Fallon is Viraiden Cree,” he said of the Prime Reaper at the Baybridge Mental
Institute for the criminally insane, another division of the Exchange. “I’m
running a distant third to those boys.”

“How’s your weenie?” she asked and he
blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Your weenie,” she repeated. “Is it sore
from the cath?”

He studied her eyes for a moment. “No,” he
said, drawing out the word. “Why?”

Laci glanced at the door. She held up a
finger, a smile on her lips. “One minute.” She got off the bed and left the
room, the light seeming to diminish in his world once more. He closed his eyes
and tracked her, his lips twitching as she hurried up to the nurse’s desk.

“Ah, we would like some privacy,” she
stated boldly.

“Beg pardon?” the nurse asked.

“Privacy,” Laci repeated firmly. “For at
least thirty minutes.”

“I don’t—” The nurse stopped, her round
face tinging with color. She glanced at the aide standing beside her then gave
Laci a worried look. “Do you think he is up to…?” She lowered her voice. “You
know.
Privacy
?”

Laci nodded solemnly. “I’ll be gentle with
him.”

The nurse and aide exchanged looks. The
aide shrugged. The nurse pursed her lips then exhaled a long sigh. “All right,
but keep it down,” she said then her face turned bright red. “Well, you know
what I mean.”

Laci winked. “We’ll be as quiet as church
mice,” she said, then pivoted around with the cutest grin on her face as she
came running back to his room.

He couldn’t help but laugh as she wriggled
onto the bed with him and told him they were going to have to be as quiet as—

“Yeah,” he interrupted. “Church mice. I
know.”

“Is that okay?” she asked, giving him a
chance to tell her no.

“Only if you’ll be gentle with me,” he
replied.

She threw a leg over him and sat down
gingerly on his upper thighs.

“You’re gonna have to let me do all the
heavy lifting,” she said as she crossed her arms over the hem of her shirt and
dragged it over her head. The sight of her lacy little bra—cups filled with the
most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen—made his blood run thick and hot through
his veins.