Reaper's Justice (27 page)

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Authors: Sarah McCarty

Tags: #Werewolves, #Paranormal, #Fiction, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Western, #Historical

BOOK: Reaper's Justice
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“It’s aggravating, but I can’t complain, business is booming.” Reese cut off another piece. “But that’s not why you’re mad at him.”
“It’s reason enough.”
“But it’s not
the
reason.”
“No.” She sighed. “I don’t even think he sees me as a woman.”
For a long moment Reese didn’t speak. He played with his piece of bread rather than eating it, a sure sign he was debating. He tore the piece of bread in half and pushed back from the table. “He’s a Reaper, Addy.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“No, I don’t, and neither do you, but the scary part is, I don’t think he knows, either.”
“Reaper” was just a grandiose term for a man with skills. “He’s a man.”
“No, he’s not. I’ve been studying them since they came here, and if they ever were just men, they aren’t anymore.”
“Well, while you’ve been studying them, I’ve been studying Isaiah.”
“And?”
She turned her coffee cup between her palms. She didn’t know how to say what she had to say. She put her fingertips to the spot on her shoulder where he had bitten her. Though the wound had healed, the tingling remained. It tingled worse whenever she thought of him. And she was thinking of Isaiah now. Of the sadness in his eyes. Of how handsome he was when he smiled, truly smiled. How hard his muscles were to her touch. How soft his lips could be against hers. How great her world felt when she was in his arms. “I say he’s mine.”
“An ‘Addy mine’ or a ‘Cameron mine’?”
It was a standing joke among the Camerons. A regular “mine” meant “God help the one who tried to take it away.” A “Cameron mine” meant “the Devil better watch his back.” “A Cameron mine.”
“Jesus Christ, Cole is going to have my hide.”
“Isaiah is none of his business. Tell him that.”
“I’m not telling Cole that.” He took a bite of cinnamon bread and washed it down with a sip of coffee. “I like my head attached to my shoulders, thank you very much.”
“Then spin him a tale.”
Now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no reason for her to pretend any longer. “Where does Isaiah go, Reese?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Hunting.”
“What?”
There was a suspicious pause before he answered, “I don’t know.”
He knew. “But you have an idea.”
“Ask him.”
She had, but he hadn’t given her a better answer. “I’m asking you.”
“And I already answered.”
Tears stung her eyes. Try as she might, she couldn’t blink them back. “Damn you.”
“Aw hell, don’t cry.”
She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She never cried, but the more Isaiah stayed away, the more emotional she became. It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t like her, but she couldn’t help it.
“You made her cry?” The question whipped into the room with the snap of a lash. The energy that followed it was almost as deadly. The mark on Addy’s shoulder tingled, the spot on her thigh burned, and as she watched Isaiah cross the room with that predator’s grace, her knees grew weak. But the tears wouldn’t stop.
“No.” She turned her head and pretended an interest in a robin outside the window. She might be pathetic, but she didn’t have to show it. Reese stayed surprisingly quiet.
Isaiah looked from Reese’s set expression to Addy’s averted face. She was crying. Her blue eyes were dark, the lids reddened. A tear hovered on her lashes. With a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to his. She resisted, but he persisted. As her gaze met his, he brushed his thumb just above her cheekbone. Just under that tear. He looked at Reese, his beast clawing at the cage he’d put around it.
“What did you say to her?”
Reese snorted. “She’s not crying because of me.”
“The hell she’s not.”
Reese finished off his coffee. “The hell she is. You’re to blame for those tears, not me.”
He was to blame? Isaiah shook his head. He hadn’t done a damn thing. He hadn’t taken advantage of the situation. He’d kept his distance. Except in the mornings. After a night spent fruitlessly searching for the other Reaper and the pack from which he must’ve come, Isaiah had not been able to resist the lure of the dough and the small peace it brought him. The tear quivered on the edge of her lashes. Any minute it would fall. “Is it about the kitchen?”
Reese’s “no” came at the same moment as Addy’s “yes.”
Isaiah didn’t need the contradictions to know that Addy had lied. Deception was as strong in her scent as her sadness. Shit, he didn’t like to see her sad. It made his beast pace with a restless energy that echoed his own need to make right whatever was wrong.
He tipped her chin up farther, forcing her head back a little more, forcing the tension within her to focus on him. “I won’t tolerate your lying to me.”
Reese’s chair scraped across the floor. “You talk to her again like that, and you’ll have a problem with me.”
Isaiah stared hard at the other man.
Leave.
He’d never had the mental powers of other Reapers, but sometimes he had the ability to influence.
“Stay out of this, Reese,” Addy said.
“Funny thing about that. When a man twice your size starts threatening you, I have a problem with it.”
“I won’t hurt her and she knows it.”
Leave. She’s safe.
“You know, when you say it in that tone of voice, it is just not believable.”
Addy caught Isaiah’s wrist in her hand. Her fingers looked so delicate against the bigger bones of his body. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being afraid of him. The world could be afraid of him, but not Addy. “Are you afraid of me, Addy?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Satisfied?” he asked Reese.
“No.”
“What more do you need?”
“For you to step away from her and ask her again.”
“No.”
That was from Addy. Isaiah caught the tear on his thumb, letting it dissolve away before it could fall in reprimand. “Do what he asks.”
“No.”
Reese put his hand on his gun. Isaiah didn’t doubt he had it loaded with silver bullets. “I guess you’re at an impasse then, Reaper. Ask him, Addy.”
She stared up at him, nothing he understood in her gaze. “Why?”
Mine,
his beast whispered.
Mine,
he echoed.
Shit, he needed to be taken out back and shot, but he was helpless to resist her. He dropped his voice to a low whisper, “Because I need you.”
It was nothing less than the truth. He’d fought the beast and himself for a week, but when he’d stood outside that door and heard her say what she felt, he lost the reason for his resistance. “And I’d like the chance to court you.”
The blush that flooded her cheeks was violent red. “How long were you standing outside the door?”
He smiled, liking the modesty mixed with her strength. “Long enough.”
Addy shook her head. “You have lousy timing.”
“Funny. I thought it was about perfect.”
She huffed a “You would” before turning to Reese. “Leave.”
“No.”
Isaiah glanced at Reese. He understood the man’s stubbornness. If Addy were his cousin, he wouldn’t want to leave, either, but in this Reese didn’t have a choice. Neither did Addy. Neither did he.
Leave.
“You heard her. I’ve got courting to do.”
“Yes, I did. But so did you.” Reese grabbed his coffee cup and swallowed the last mouthful, a slight frown on his face, as if he didn’t understand why he was doing what he was doing. “She wants it done right.”
Leave.
“I heard.” Isaiah had no idea how he was going to deliver, but to see that hope in Addy’s eyes, he’d do whatever it took.
Leave.
The door closed behind Reese and then it was just Addy and him, and the power of the attraction between them.
 
 
ADDY couldn’t believe Reese had left.
“How did you do that?” Not for a minute did she believe Isaiah wasn’t behind her cousin’s strange acquiescence.
“I’m a tough man.”
She snorted. “So is my cousin.”
Isaiah brushed the hair off her face. “But I’m a Reaper.”
She searched his face. “What exactly does that mean?”
There was a long pause in which the backs of his fingers slid over her cheek in a rhythmic caress that sank deeper than her skin. A caress that felt a lot like tenderness.
“It means I have . . . abilities that are different.”
“How different?”
He leaned in. His lips skimmed her cheek, her ear. “You want to hear about that now?” He caught the lobe between his teeth and bit gently. “Or?”
Her breath caught in her throat. What was it about this man that could steal her reason and drive her wild with desire? Because she was wild. Her heart was beating faster than normal, her skin felt too small for her body, and she needed his touch. She so needed his touch. “What’s the ‘or’?”
He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Me.”
“For how long?”
A shadow crossed his face. “I only know now.”
A strange way to phrase it, Addy thought, but it made sense. Isaiah never spoke of a future or talked of the past.
Addy forced a smile that felt very shaky at the edges. “Now is good.”
He cupped her head in his palm and pulled her close, brushing a kiss over her right lid. And then the left. “Very good.”
That rumble was back in his voice. It slid along her nerves, stroking them into life until she swore she could feel every individual hair standing on end in anticipation.
“Do you want your worry stone?”
She smiled, remembering how he’d told her to hold on to him the first time. “I’d rather rub on you.”
His growl of approval was sexy. It was even sexier when he swung her up into his arms. She smothered her squeal against his shoulder. The last thing she needed was Reese to come charging in. The last thing she needed was anybody coming in. She’d never felt this way about a man. Never felt like she was dying a slow death without him. She didn’t even know she could feel this way about a man, but with Isaiah, she couldn’t imagine feeling anything else.
“Where are we going?”
“Upstairs.”
She had to know. “To bed?”
“Where else?”
She had to ask. “To sleep?”
She loved that he could take the stairs two at a time even with her in his arms.
“Hell no.”
That was also a relief.
He paused on the landing. “You afraid I’m going to change my mind?”
“You’ve been distant all week.”
“I was a fool.”
“Yes.”
His chuckle was as sweet as his growl. “But not anymore.”
She smiled and nipped his chest through his shirt. “No. Not anymore.”
Swearing, Isaiah stopped dead. “Do that again.”
She did. He groaned. She smiled, power blending with desire. He was as affected by her as she was by him. She pressed a kiss against the spot she’d just bitten, holding the thought, the desire, while he carried her those last three steps into the bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, he let go of her legs in a controlled glide. The friction of her thighs against his was torture. The bunching of her skirts between them, unwelcome.
His mouth bit at hers as he backed her toward the bed. “You have too many clothes on.”
She was already unbuttoning his shirt. “So do something about it.”
He laughed. “What happened to my shy little virgin?”
“She’s too hungry to be shy.”
His whole body snapped taut, and for one horrible moment, she thought she’d gone too far. “I’m sorry. I don’t think sometimes.”
“Shit. Don’t be sorry.” His fingers tunneled through her hair. “Just say it again. Now.”
She did better than say it. She showed it, raking her fingers through his hair, tugging the leather thong out, freeing it to fall around his face. She grabbed handfuls, wrapping them around her fingers as she pulled him to her, rising up on her toes to meet him halfway, seeking his mouth with blind impatience.
Isaiah.
His name was a chant in her mind, a need in her soul. The bite on her shoulder burned, the one on her thigh seared, and between her legs, her pussy ached. Oh God, she ached.
His mouth came down on hers. With a hungry growl, he parted her lips. On her next breath she told him what she wanted, whispering into his mouth, “I’m starving for you. Make love to me, Isaiah. I want you.”

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