My Reaper's Daughter (32 page)

making it clear to him that she had handed her own heart into his keeping. Her tongue

slipped possessively past his lips and into his mouth, mimicking the in and out

movement of his finger in her sex.

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Glyn groaned and ground his mouth to hers, dueling with his own tongue—tasting

her, taking her, thrusting as deep as he could then slithering down her body until his

mouth was at the wet, hot core of her.

“Glyn!” she cried out, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He licked her juicy folds, pierced her with his tongue, shocked her as he slid his

hand beneath her and impaled her puckered opening with his thumb. She jerked

against him and her legs fell wide open as she welcomed this erotic intrusion. She

squirmed as he pressed deeper, his teeth nibbling on her clit.

“Please!” she gasped, and her hips began to arch in enticement for her mate to take

her.

But Glyn was in no hurry to do so. He lapped at her center, dragged the tip of his

tongue up one fold and down the other—over and over until she was panting. With

each circuit his teeth grazed the engorged button at the apex of her channel.

“Glyn, please!” she begged.

Yet still he consumed her, branded her, gave her an immense amount of pleasure as

he continued his assault on her senses. One hand was on her breast—his thumb passing

back and forth over the swollen nipple. The other was beneath her—the thumb doing

such deliciously wicked things to her body she began to sweat.

When she could stand it no longer, Mystery tugged viciously on his hair and

growled low in her throat—letting him know in no uncertain terms she was ready for

him, needed him and had to have his stiff shaft.

With slow, cocky ease he withdrew his thumb and moved sinuously up in the bed,

dragging his engorged cock along her leg until he had that thick tool paused at her

sheath.

“You want me, wench?” he asked in a throaty rasp.

“Aye, Reaper!” she hissed, and brought her legs up to trap him, tightening them as

hard as she could around his hips. “Do it!”

He laughed wickedly and put a hand to that massive shaft, placing it at her

opening. “You’re sure now?”

She didn’t answer but levered her hips up to impale herself on his rod, pressing

against him as hard as she could until he was well seated within her.

“Aye, I believe so,” she told him.

His hands went under her ass and lifted her, bounced her to him, and then began a

slow, measured thrusting that had her dragging her nails down his back.

“Faster, Reaper,” she ordered. “Faster and harder!”

“Harder?” he echoed.

“Yes, Kullen,” she growled. “Harder!”

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She clawed at him until she drew blood—unaware that she had—and it was like a

goad that flicked straight to his cock for he bucked against her and began to pummel

her with that huge rod.

In and out, going as deep as her body would allow. In and out, filling her and

stretching her. In and out, taking her to a place she wanted to journey.

When she came, she came hard and cried out fiercely—her inner muscles rippling

around him so forcefully his eyes flew wide in shock. He increased the speed of his

thrusts until his own release shot like bolts of lightning through him and he bellowed as

hot cum spurted hard and copiously. His fingers dug into her ass and he hefted her up

higher until his cock was pressed against her womb.

He knew the moment he did it that he had impregnated her this time. He knew it as

surely as he knew his own heart. With another bellow he lowered his head and sank his

fangs into her neck.

Mystery stiffened at the shock of the sting and tried at first to push him away but

the pain was fleeting—giving way to an exquisite pleasure that caused her eyes to roll

back in her head.

“You’re mine, Myst,” he said. “Completely and totally mine now.”

A soft smile hovered over her dusky lips. “I have been from the moment I laid eyes

on you,” she told him.

He locked his gaze on hers. “I will never touch another woman for as long as I draw

breath. You will never touch another man. If you do, I’ll destroy him in ways you can’t

even begin to imagine.”

She put a palm to his cheek. “I won’t ever want another man, Glyn Kullen. You are

all I’ve ever wanted.”

He took a deep breath. “This time we made a child.”

If he had expected surprise from her, he didn’t get it. She simply nodded.

“Then,” she said, caressing his cheek, “I believe we’d better see a priest sooner than

you’d planned.”

“Today,” he stated, as sure of it as anything he’d ever known. “I’ll get us a priest

today!”

* * * * *

Neither Phelan nor Kasid had informed the housekeeper why they appeared at her

employer’s door with Mystery Butler’s daughter in tow. They simply pushed past her

without giving her any explanation and Phelan led them into the parlor, knowing the

young woman would let Simmons know they were there.

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Valda whispered to Kasid, who sat beside her on the

loveseat.

“Not as pretty as your mother,” the Reaper replied with a gentle smile.

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“Did she try to take Glynnie away from Mama? Is that why Mama was crying?”

Kasid looked over the child’s head to Phelan before answering. “I think she flirted

with him, dearling, but then many women have flirted with Lord Glyn.”

“They’d better not or my mama will scratch their eyes out,” Valda stated

emphatically. “They better leave my papa alone!”

Kasid grinned. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, little one. Lord

Glyn has chosen your mother as his lady and no one will ever be able to break them

apart.”

Anthony Simmons appeared in the parlor doorway, his brows drawn together.

“Has something happened to Mystery?” he asked, his gaze locked on the little girl.

Valda started to speak but Kasid put a restraining hand on her leg and shook his

head slightly. The little girl clamped her mouth shut.

“Lord Glyn is with her,” Phelan answered.

A flash of fury shot through the plantation owner’s gray gaze but then a weak,

forced smile pulled at his mouth. “Then I won’t have to worry about her safety,”

Simmons said. “When I saw Valda, I thought something amiss.”

“Nothing is amiss,” Phelan stated, watching Simmons closely. “They just needed

some time alone so we brought this lovely young lady with us.”

The housekeeper was standing behind Simmons and from the look on her face, it

was evident she feared what the Reapers might say or do.

“Where are my manners? Would you gentlemen like some refreshments?”

Simmons asked.

“No, but some information would be helpful,” Phelan said.

“What kind of information?” Simmons inquired as he moved into the parlor and

took a seat in his favorite chair by a tall window. “You may go, Leilani.”

“We’d prefer she stay,” Kasid insisted.

Simmons frowned. “May I ask why?”

“You have a magic-sayer at Sagewood and we want to know who he is,” Phelan

answered.

“I’m sorry but I…” Simmons began.

“Cut the crap, Tony,” Phelan growled. “Nothing happens here that you aren’t privy

to. We want the name of the sorcerer working at Sagewood.”

Simmons turned his gaze to Leilani. “My housekeeper dabbles in potions and the

like if that’s what you mean.”

The Reapers turned to look at the young woman who was clutching her hands in

front of her. She was trembling now, any hint of bravery gone from her face. Her eyes

were downcast and her breathing clearly audible in the still room.

“We know about her and we know what she tried to do,” Phelan said, “but the one

we want can do more than weave a simple spell that accomplishes nothing more than

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hateful mischief. Who is he, Tony? Who is the powerful magic-sayer who can turn men

into zombies?”

Simmons’ eyes turned hard. “Phelan, you and I have been friends for a long, long

time. How can you possibly think I’d lied to you? Haven’t I been doing everything I can

to help you find out about who’s behind the disappearances in the territory?”

A knock at the door saved Kiel from having to answer. After a quick look to her

employer, Leilani hurried to answer, apparently glad to be away from the Reapers and

their questions, but when she opened the door, the housekeeper jumped back, terror

flickering over her dark face.

“I came for our daughter,” Glyn Kullen said, his amber eyes as cold as ice.

Leilani backed away from the stony, lethal anger in those deadly orbs and rushed to

the parlor.

“Lord Glyn is here, Mr. Simmons,” she said, wringing her hands. “He wants the

child.”

Valda scooted off the loveseat without a backward look at Kasid and ran out of the

room.

“See if he needs us,” Phelan ordered Kasid.

The Akhkharulian nodded and left, giving the housekeeper a nasty look as he

passed.

“You didn’t answer me, Phelan,” Simmons pressed. “Do you honestly believe I’d

play false with you?”

Phelan was sitting on another loveseat with his ankle crossed over the knee of his

opposite foot. He was at ease in the chair—his body language speaking volumes for his

restraint though his eyes were flint hard.

“Who is he?”

“Phelan, I am not lying to you. I don’t know who this man is you’re talking about!”

The Reaper smiled nastily. “Aye, you do.”

Simmons stood. “I would like you to leave, Lord Kiel. I have nothing more to say to

you at this time.”

Phelan nodded. “As you will, Mr. Simmons,” he said, and got leisurely to his feet.

Both he and Kasid had removed their hats and slickers when they’d entered the parlor

and now he gathered their belongings from a leather side chair. He cast Simmons one

last penetrating look then sauntered from the room. He met Kasid in the foyer.

“Glyn is taking care of some business,” Kasid said. “He and his lady took the child

to a relative’s.” He glanced past Phelan. “Did Simmons give you a name?”

“No,” Phelan responded. “But he will.” He handed Kasid his things then shrugged

into his own slicker. “We’ll give him time to realize he’s made a very dangerous

mistake.”

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When the Reapers departed, Leilani hurried to the parlor to find her employer

slugging down a tall glass of whiskey.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, eyes wide. “They’ll be back.”

“Let them,” Simmons said as he refilled his glass. “If I gave them his name, he’d

turn me into one of his undead.” He took a long swallow of the fiery brew then shot her

a knowing look. “If you want to tell them, go ahead.”

“No,” Leilani said. “You know I can’t.”

“Where was Kullen going with Mystery?” he demanded.

“He didn’t say anything to me,” she replied with a shudder. “He looked at me like

he could kill me.”

“And most likely will before it’s over,” Simmons said with a snort.

“I thought he was the one. I thought…”

“Well, what did he say to the other Reaper?” Simmons snapped.

“That he and the bitch had business to see to and that they were taking the brattling

to Mystery’s brother’s house. That’s all he said other than to say he should be back to

Lord Phelan’s in an hour or so but not to worry if he ran late.”

Simmons’ narrowed his eyes. “What is that bastard up to with my woman?” he

growled. He brought the glass up and drained it, his words already beginning to slur as

he ordered Leilani to fetch John Dirk.

“And tell him to be quick about it this time!”

* * * * *

The words were spoken over them quietly and quickly for the priest feared the tall

man in black and disapproved of the woman of color the Reaper had chosen to be his

mate. He did not however disdain the three twenty-dollar gold pieces the lawman

pressed into his trembling palm.

“There will be those who might give you trouble about this, milord,” the religious

warned as he pocketed the gold.

Glyn gave the priest a steady look. “They’d better not,” he said.

“From your people and hers,” the nervous man insisted.

“
My
people are Reapers, priest, and they’ll not say a gods-be-damned word to me

about who I have chosen to spend my life with.”

“I mean other white people,” the priest clarified. “There is bigotry still in this part

of the country. Prejudice can be an ugly thing.”

“If anyone—
anyone
—dares to insult my lady or gives her a moment of grief over

her choice of husband, they will answer to me,” Glyn ground out. “And I really don’t

think any of them would be stupid enough to do it.”

“But behind your backs, milord, they will—”

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“It had
best
be behind my back for if they say it to my face or where I can hear it, I’ll

wipe the floor up with
their
faces!”

The priest’s lips pursed. “Violence never solved anything, milord.”

“What occurred here today is between the three of us, holy man,” Glyn declared. “It

had best remain that way until I tell you differently. Is that clear?”

“Aye, milord.”

“Not a word from you.”