Dark Kiss Of The Reaper (13 page)

Her fingers lingered on the knife handle. “I hardly know you.”

Had he used the word boyfriend too soon? He thought her eyes had sparkled when he’d said it. Perhaps he’d been mistaken. “You’ve seen a side of me only my brothers have ever seen. How much more do you want to know?”

Her hands fell back into her lap. “This place is fine, really.”

“Sara, what are you afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” He kept his tone light, hoping she’d tell him what she was really feeling, even if she made a joke of it. “Tell me.”

She sipped her wine, stayed silent a few moments longer than was comfortable. “That you’ll...figure things out and leave.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Figure things out?”

“You said I was your first date, right? Well, I know men. I won’t be your last. You’ll sleep with me and figure out how much you like sex and then you’ll be gone, chasing after the next conquest, and where will I be? Long forgotten, that’s where.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, looking slightly mortified. “I think I’ve had enough wine.”

Sitting back in his chair, he did his best not to grin. She’d been thinking about them sleeping together. Good to know they were of like minds on that. “You might know men, I’ll give you that. But would you agree I’m not your ordinary man?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t looking at him, but she was answering. A good sign.

“And if I had invested in this relationship by purchasing a safer home for you—a place completely your own, with your name alone on the deed—don’t you think that would be a substantial bit of incentive for me to stick around?”

“Probably.” She slanted her eyes at him, just for a moment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you could have any woman you wanted.”

“You think most women would want to date a Reaper?”

Her eyes met his. “In your human form, they wouldn’t know the difference.”

“But I would.” He leaned forward. “And I already have the woman I want.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” She pushed away from the table and walked into the kitchen.

He went after her. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

“You didn’t. And it’s a very generous offer, but—”

He held his hand up. “Think about it, that’s all I ask.”

She nodded, exhaling a soft breath. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Taking her hands, he pulled her back toward the table. “Come eat or I’ll feel like I ruined the evening.”

A slight smile teased her lush mouth and she came willingly. “You didn’t ruin it.”

They sat back down and ate, keeping the conversation to safe subjects like the family she never saw and her job.

“I can’t eat any more or I’ll explode. How do mortals do this, always feeling so full?” He pushed his plate away.

She grinned. “We don’t always eat until we feel sick. You’ll have to learn to pace yourself.”

“When it tastes good, it’s hard to stop.”

She picked up the plates and carried them into the kitchen. “I hope you saved room for dessert. It’s my favorite ice cream. If you don’t like it, I won’t be able to date you anymore.”

He stiffened in his chair.

Her laughter rang out. “I’m just teasing. Something like that isn’t going to stop me from seeing you.”

Dishes clattered under running water. Azrael picked up the breadbasket and salad bowl and carried them in.

“Thanks,” she said, “but I’ll clean up. Go sit. You’re the guest.”

“As you wish.” He relaxed on the sofa. She joined him with two bowls a few minutes later.

“Here. Coffee chocolate chip. Prepare to know the meaning of the word bliss.” She dug into hers without waiting. Her eyes closed and a soft
mmmm
slipped from her closed mouth.

Scoops of chocolate-speckled tan ice cream filled the chilly bowl. He doubted anything could taste better than kissing her, but he’d try it to make her happy. The ice cream melted on his tongue, mingling the earthiness of the coffee with the bittersweetness of the chocolate.

It was good. But he could think of a way to make it better. He put his bowl down on the small table in front of the sofa and reached for her.

“What are you doing?” She held her ice cream up, laughing. “You have your own bowl.”

“I don’t want your ice cream. I want you. I want to taste it on you.” His hands found her waist and tugged her close. With her bowl still up over her head, his mouth met hers. He swept his tongue past the seam of her lips to tangle with hers, coffee-flavored and cold from the sweet treat. He warmed it up quickly.

She pulled away long enough to set her bowl beside his. “You’re a naughty boy. I’m trying to eat my ice cream.”

“You’d rather have the ice cream?” Before she could answer, he yanked his sweater over his head.

Her eyes widened and she inhaled, mouthing a silent
wow
.

Taking that as a good sign, he dipped his finger into the puddle of melted ice cream in his bowl, then trailed it down his chest.

She whimpered softly, a needy, hungry sound. “You have the devil in you.”

He beckoned with his finger. “Maybe you can teach me to behave.”

“I doubt it.” Pushing onto her knees, she scooted toward him. “But I’m willing to try.”

She bent her head to the line of ice cream and cleaned it off his chest with a single pass of her silky tongue. The sensation sucked the breath from his lungs. She sat back with a satisfied grin and surveyed her work. “I’ve never seen a body like yours in person.”

“And?” It almost embarrassed him how badly he needed to know her opinion of him.

She flattened her palms on his chest, splaying her fingers against his skin. His body tightened, honing his nerves to focus on the points of contact. Her scent enveloped him. He was her servant at that moment, lost to any existence but pleasing her.

“And...” A coy smile, at odds with her actions, lit her beautiful face. “I like it. Very much. Like touching it. All that hard muscle and soft, warm skin.”

Straddling his body, she settled into his lap. His hands rested loosely on her hips in hopes she wouldn’t notice his trembling. What was greater than want? More powerful than need? Whatever it was, he felt it.

“Am I in any danger of unleashing that other side of you?” she asked, pushing him back onto the sofa.

“No.” Desire thickened his words. “Not while I’m in human form.”

“Good.” She picked up one of the ice cream bowls and tipped it, drizzling a line of cream down his stomach. The cold liquid did nothing to cool his feverish skin. Her mouth followed, licking and nibbling at the sticky sweetness. If she couldn’t feel what she was doing to him, she must be numb from the neck down.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up, sliding her over the remaining slick of melted ice cream.

“Hey, my blouse—”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” The time for words was over. He crushed her mouth with a savage kiss. One hand griped the back of her neck, buried beneath the silk of her hair. The other found the small of her back and pressed her hips into his. There should be no question in her mind as to what effect she had on him now.

She groaned low in her throat. Her body rocked against his hard length. He trailed kisses down the column of her neck, causing her to moan again.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this...” she whispered, her breath coming in long draws.

“I won’t leave you,” he breathed against her raspberry-scent skin. “I give you my word. I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never want for anything ever again, my sweet Sara.”

She stiffened in his arms. Pulled away. “I didn’t agree to anything. I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

The firmness of her tone cooled his body where her warm length had been pressed. Desire, need, hunger...it surged, looking for a way out. A release. But there would be none. She didn’t want him the way he wanted her. Humiliation took control of his tongue. “Look around. I could offer you so much more than this.”

He stood, thankful the result of their heated actions had already begun to recede. “I don’t know what’s wrong with wanting to take care of you. With wanting to make your life better.”

“My life is fine.” She shook her head, eyes bright. “I won’t be controlled by another man. I won’t.”

“I don’t want to control you.” If all mortal women responded to sincere gestures like this, he could better understand why his brothers didn’t get involved. “I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” Her mouth thinned to a fine line. “Not by you or anybody else.”

“You didn’t mind my help with your ex-husband.”

She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them. “Maybe you should go.”

He spread his arms. “Sara, please. Why can’t you understand what I’m trying to do?” How had this gone so wrong?

“I understand perfectly. That’s why I got divorced in the first place.”

“I’m nothing like him. Nothing.” His insides shattered. He didn’t care if he had to plead. He needed her. This stubborn, beautiful woman couldn’t see she already owned his heart.

She shook her head and spoke without looking at him. “Maybe you aren’t, but that’s a chance I’m not willing to take.”

Chapter Twelve

“There are no threads,” Atropos said, holding her empty hands up for him to see.

Azrael wanted to curse the old woman’s tricks, but kept his tongue. In a week’s time, there’d been far too few souls to reap lately. For him anyway. Kol and Chronos had been busy enough they’d had little time to speak with him. And so he’d spent nearly every moment missing Sara. Wanting to talk to her, but not knowing what to say. Wanting to explain, but not knowing how.

She’d told him to leave. He doubted she would welcome him back. Stubborn, thickheaded, beautiful woman.

“Then cut some,” he growled. “There must be need.” He glared at Klotho and Lachesis. They quickly bowed their heads back to their work.

“There isn’t.” Atropos polished her shears with a scrap of silk. She admired her reflection in their brilliant finish. “If you miss her, go to her.”

“It isn’t that simple.” He paced the limestone balcony. All the sweet-scented breezes and trickling water in the world couldn’t soothe him today.

“Of course it is,” she countered. “That is the way of love.”

He whipped back, care for his behavior gone. “What would you know of love, old woman?”

Her cackle bit into his skin. “I know that you are in it.”

Klotho covered her mouth too late to hide her smile and Lachesis’s laugh sharpened into a cough.

He stared at the pair. “It comforts me to know you find such amusement in the chaos you’ve helped create.”

Lachesis returned his gaze, wide-eyed and full of surprise. “That we’ve helped create?” She clucked her tongue. “No one put words in your mouth or feelings in your heart. You did that yourself.”

“Poor Azrael,” Klotho cooed. “You should go to her. Offer her a gift...mortal women love gifts.”

His scowl erased her smile. “Not this one.”

“Does she still wear your amulet?” Klotho asked.

“How would I know?” He exhaled hard. “I haven’t seen her in a week.”

Klotho shrugged and went back to her spinning. “If it still hangs about her neck, I would think that a good sign.”

“A very good sign,” Lachesis interrupted. “You should visit her. See for yourself.”

“No. Not without reason.” He wouldn’t crawl to her like some lovesick boy. Not unless he had to. Which he might.

Lachesis beckoned to Atropos. “Come look at this thread.” She held one against her staff, tipping her head in study.

Atropos made her way over. She tipped her head as well, tapping a gnarled finger on her whiskered chin. “Hmm. You have a good eye, Lachesis.”

She pulled her shears free of their pouch, snipped the thread, then turned to dangle it in his direction.

“Here.” She held it out. “Go.”

* * *

Stupid.

Sara slammed the file drawer shut. She’d been stupid. Hung up on her past. All because that idiot Ray had rattled her cage. It wasn’t possible to hate anyone more than she hated him. Although she wasn’t very happy with herself at the moment.

An entire week had gone by without even the briefest glimpse of Azrael at the hospital. She hadn’t expected a phone call or email, but the way he’d disappeared...or maybe he had been there and she could no longer see him. The thought tightened her throat, brought heat to her eyes. She clutched the silver wings at the hollow of her throat. Holding that reminder of him soothed her a little.

Worst of all, she had no way to contact him. No way to apologize or make him understand about her past and the way Ray had warped her mind.

Where are you, Azrael? Just show up and I’ll apologize until I’m blue.