My Reaper's Daughter (43 page)

He gave her a helpless look. “After the punishment.”

“What kind of punishment? What will they do to you?” She angrily batted away the

tears.

“I can’t tell you because I honestly don’t know. Owen got nearly a year for doing

what he knew he shouldn’t. Chances are I’ll get at least that and most likely much

longer.”

“A year of what? Prison?”

“Aye,” he said, tiredly. He laid his head on the back of the seat.

“But I’ll be able to see you, won’t I?”

214

My Reaper’s Daughter

“No.”

“Glyn!” she whined. “That’s not fair!”

He swiveled his head so he could look out the window, making it clear to her he

didn’t want to discuss it anymore. When she persisted, he slowly closed his eyes and

willed her to be silent, shutting out her protests until she began to calm.

* * * * *

“No.”

“Lord Phelan, please!” Mystery pleaded. Normally she would not have dared to

touch the Reaper but her hands were gripping his forearm tightly, preventing him from

going into the hotel. “Where can he go if you have him shackled?”

Kasid coughed discreetly to gain Phelan’s attention and when the lawman’s

exasperated look met his own, Jaborn shrugged.

“They’ll have our hide if he escapes!” Phelan protested.

“He won’t,” Mystery and Kasid said at the same time—one voice eager and the

other firm.

Kiel dragged his hat from his head and armed the sweat from his brow. “I don’t

know…”

“It will be the last time we’ll have any privacy, Lord Phelan,” Mystery told him.

“There won’t be any on the trail.”

“There won’t be any with the child in the room with you either,” Phelan snapped,

giving Kasid a beseeching glance but his fellow Reaper merely grinned.

“Please?” Mystery begged.

Phelan snapped his hat against his leg and cursed beneath his breath. “Let me see

what Kullen wants,” he grumbled, and spun around to stomp over to the carriage

where they’d left both Glyn and the child sleeping.

“As if there is any doubt,” Kasid said with a chuckle. He winked at Mystery then

held his arm out to her. “Milady, let’s go inside.”

“But my daughter…”

“I’ll come back for her once we have you a room. She’s too heavy for you to be

carrying,” he replied as she slipped her arm through his.

“Thank you, Lord Kasid,” she said.

“It’s just Kasid,” he said. “Or Kasi as my grandmother used to call me.”

“Kasi it is then,” she said with a grateful smile.

Phelan snatched open the carriage door and wasn’t in the least surprised to see

Glyn staring at him, the light from a lamppost illuminating the interior of the vehicle.

“Milady wants the two of you to share a room this night,” he growled, but his voice

was low so as not to wake the child. He rocked his hat onto his head then tugged the

brim sharply.

215

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I heard.”

“If I let you do it, will you swear you won’t try to…?” Phelan cut off the question,

no doubt realizing what he’d almost insinuated. He finished the thought with, “Get her

pregnant.”

Glyn’s eyes had narrowed dangerously when Kiel had started his sentence. When

those last words were spoken instead of the affront he’d been expecting, his lips

twitched. He drew his brows together in an effort to contain his amusement but it was

impossible. He made a strange snorting sound as he tried to hold it in then laughed

silently, his shoulders shaking, the motion rattling the shackles.

“You think that’s funny, Kullen?” Phelan demanded.

“I think it’s a matter of shutting the barn door after the horse has run off,” Glyn

replied with a wide grin.

Phelan frowned—his forehead crinkling—then his eyebrows jumped into the

tumble of his dark hair. “By the gods, you didn’t!”

“’Fraid so,” Glyn replied with a careless upsweep of his shoulders.

“The gods damn it, Kullen!” Kiel snapped. “Now you’ve gone and done it!

“Done what?” Kasid asked as he came to stand beside Phelan whose head snapped

around so quickly, the Akhkharulian took a step back.

“The prick got her pregnant!” Phelan hissed at Jaborn

“Aye,” Glyn agreed with a chuckle. “That was exactly what did it.”

“This isn’t funny, you asshole!” Phelan exclaimed, spinning back around, “Do you

realize your lady is going to go through what Rachel did while Owen was locked up?”

That sobered Glyn and the smile vanished quickly from his handsome face. He

shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“Step back and let me get the child before you two wake her,” Kasid said sternly,

and pushed Phelan out of the way. He gently swept the sleeping girl into his brawny

arms and eased out of the carriage, giving Phelan a cautionary look as he went.

“Take her to our room,” Phelan called out softly.

“That’s what I intended to do,” Kasid replied just as quietly.

Phelan turned back to Glyn. “I’ll give you this one night, Kullen, so you’d best

make the most of it. Now get the hell out of there. This shit has given me a fucking

headache.”

Glyn climbed down from the carriage, steadied by Kiel’s hand. He shot his

teammate a thankful look but seemed to know better than to voice the gratitude.

Squaring his shoulders, he preceded Phelan into the hotel, feeling the shame of his

prisoner status as the night clerk tried not to stare at him.

“Room five, milord, is the lady’s room. Room seven is yours and Lord Jaborn’s,”

the night clerk replied to Phelan’s curt question.

216

My Reaper’s Daughter

With Phelan right behind him, Glyn climbed the stairs to the second floor. His head

was throbbing unmercifully and he was sweating bullets, his black T-shirt drenched

under the arms and in the center of his back and chest.

“You feel as bad as you look?” Phelan inquired begrudgingly.

“Worse.”

“Don’t see how that’s possible ’cause you’re an ugly son of a bitch to begin with,”

Kiel insulted.

“Fuck you, Phelan,” Glyn muttered.

“Cockteaser,” Phelan spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “You keep offering but

you just don’t deliver.”

Glyn snorted.

When they had reached the landing, Kiel snaked a hard hand around the nape of

Glyn’s neck and halted him, leaning forward to put his lips against Kullen’s ear.

“If I were to tell you that you’re really a very pretty boy, would you hold it against

me, Glynnie?” he whispered.

Glyn jerked out of Kiel’s grip and turned his head to shoot the man an arched brow.

“I wouldn’t hold anything against you, Phelan. I’d be afraid you’d impale yourself on

it.”

Phelan’s slow, nasty grin and wagging brows brought back the easy camaraderie

the two men had always shared. “Can’t blame a brother for trying,” he said. “Now get

your ass moving before I do something you might not fully enjoy but I would.”

Glyn ignored the threat.

They reached Mystery’s door and Phelan rapped lightly.

“You know I’ll have to shackle you to the bed.”

“I know you think you have to.”

Phelan blushed, stung by the implied reprimand. When Mystery opened the door,

he took Glyn’s arm and ushered him into the room. “You got to…you know…before

you lie down?” he asked his prisoner.

“Aye.”

Mystery ducked her head then slipped quietly from the room after pointing to the

chamber pot beneath the side of the bed. She waited in the hall until Phelan came out of

the room.

“He’s lying down. I think the fever’s back,” the Reaper announced, and kept on

walking. He never turned around as he headed for the stairs. “We leave at sunup

whether he’s sick or not.”

“We’ll be ready,” she replied, and started to close the door.

“And, milady?”

She poked her out to see Lord Phelan standing at the door to his room. “Aye,

milord?”

217

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Congratulations on the impending birth of your son.”

“Thank you, Lord Phelan.”

“Phelan,” he corrected with a smile then tugged on the brim of his hat before

opening the door and walking through.

Mystery shut and locked the door. When she turned, she was dismayed to see her

husband stretched out on the bed with his arms over his head, the chain of the manacles

looped through one of the curlicues of the elaborate brass headboard.

Glyn flexed his hands and the chain clanked against the brass. “Please be gentle

with me, wench. I’m at your mercy.”

She knew his flippant remark was meant to calm and distract her so she decided if

that was the way he wanted to play it, that would be the way she’d handle it.

“At long last,” she said with a lift on one dark brow. “I have you right where I want

you.”

Obviously Phelan had allowed him to take off his T-shirt, boots and socks but he

was still wearing the black denim jeans that were streaked with mud.

“Perhaps you can fashion a clean pair of pants when I’ve had my fill of you,” she

said in a light tone as she moved toward the bed, unbuttoning the bodice of her gown

as she came.

The Reaper’s amber eyes took on a heated gleam but then he shrugged.

“Wish I could but I can’t.” He rattled the chain. “The gods-be-damned thing must

have been sent down from one of the drones. It’s made from lead overlaid with iron.”

She stopped as she was about to push the gown from her shoulders. “Drone?” she

questioned.

“Not important,” he said, and was unaware he had licked his lips at the sight of her

soft white chemise.

“Then what about the shackles? Why does it matter what they’re made from?” She

pushed the bodice down her arms and allowed the dress to fall to the floor. She stepped

out of it then in the hip-length chemise and panties came to sit on the edge of the bed

beside him.

“Huh?” he grunted, staring at the lush swell of her breasts above the neckline of the

chemise.

“Lead?” she prompted as she leaned forward to take off her shoes.

His gaze turned to molten gold as her breasts nearly fell from the confines of the

chemise when she bent over. He lifted his head to get a better view.

“Glyn?” she encouraged.

“Oh right. The lead,” he responded, his gaze roaming down her slender back and

rump. “It inhibits the use of my powers, blocks them so I can’t break the chain or pop

open the cuffs or make the shackles simply disappear.”

218

My Reaper’s Daughter

“I see,” she said. With shoes and stockings removed, she eased up from the

mattress just enough to pull the bottom of the chemise from under her then crossed her

arms and peeled off the garment, her breasts jiggling free of the restriction, her nipples

already hard and standing erect. She twisted around to face him then cupped one breast

to knead the dusky mound. All that hid her completely from his view were the white

silk panties that cupped her hips so lovingly.

“Great Merciful Alel,” he whispered. He swallowed hard. “You’ve no idea what

you’re doing to me here, woman!”

Mystery’s gaze dropped to the front of his denims where a very prominent bulge

had developed. “Oh I think I do,” she said.

She pushed to her knees on the bed then put her hands on the fly of his jeans,

popping free each button slowly as she held his gaze. Her fingers slid into the opening

and she cupped him, running her thumb over the engorged head of his ready cock.

“You are so evil,” he said in a low, throaty voice.

Her slow, knowing grin said it all as she began to tug the jeans down his lean hips

and long legs, tossing them aside before placing herself in the V of his spread legs,

pushing his thighs wider apart.

She leaned forward with her hands to either side of his broad chest until her face

was hovering above his.

“I am going to have my wicked way with you, Reaper,” she vowed, “and there’s

nothing you can do to stop me.” She cocked her head to one side. “Are you ticklish?”

Glyn squirmed for in truth he was, but the last thing he wanted was to be tickled.

The pain between his temples made his head feel as though it were splitting but he

would rather have had his fingernails pulled out with hot pinchers than tell her he was

hurting.

“Why don’t you sit on me and we’ll discuss it,” he countered, his eyes glowing like

jewels.

Mystery batted her eyes. “But then I’d have to bare myself to you, milord. You’d see

my sugar and all that.”

Glyn strained against the shackles lashing him to the bed. “Woman, if I was free…”

She braced her weight on her left hand and put the fingers of her right over his

mouth, her womb twisting as he nibbled at the dusky pads and swept his tongue over

them. When he drew her index finger into the wet warmth of his mouth, she trembled.

“I need you, Glynnie,” she whispered.

And with just those four words, their world erupted in a torrent of dark passion

that swept over them like the lightning playing in the distance. She sat up and quickly

dispensed with the panties, falling on him and slithering her body over his as she took

his mouth in a heady kiss that had him gyrating wildly beneath her.

They put all the pent-up anxiety and fear for the future into their lovemaking. She

slid down his shaft—impaling her wet heat upon him. Her lower body rocked

219

Charlotte Boyett-Compo