Reaper's Vow

Praise for

Reaper's Justice

“Intense, edgy, and passionate.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Exceptional . . . [A] hands-down winning tale that is not to be missed.”

—
Romance Reviews Today

“Those familiar with this author know she's the queen of writing fresh, sensual Westerns with characters that will remain with you long after the last page is turned.”

—
A Romance Review

Caleb

“A terrific thriller.”

—
Genre Go Round Reviews

Promises Reveal

“Few writers can match the skill of Sarah McCarty . . . The fast-paced story line hooks the audience.”

—
Midwest Book Review

“Entertaining, and kept this reader turning the pages.”

—
Romance Reader at Heart

“Titillating, sizzling, and realistic . . . I don't know how she does it, but I want more and more and more. You will, too, once you read this fantastic tale.”

—
Night Owl Reviews

“A must-read . . . Enticing and erotic . . . I am already craving more!”

—
Romance Junkies

“Highly entertaining . . . Plenty steamy . . . and a great compliment to the series.”

—
A Romance Review

“A delightful tale with lots of intense passion . . . Outstanding! Not to be missed by fans of historical Westerns who enjoy a strong dose of erotic fiction.”

—
The Romance Readers Connection

Running Wild

“[Sarah McCarty's] captivating characters, scorching love scenes, and dramatic plot twists kept me on the edge. I could not put it down.”

—
Night Owl Reviews

“Sarah McCarty entices and enchants . . . and has taken paranormal romance to a whole new level.”

—
Romance Junkies

“You are going to love this . . . Entertaining and passionate . . . Fast-paced story lines and super-hot sex scenes . . . Sarah McCarty definitely takes you on a wild ride and . . . weaves a fascinating paranormal.”

—
Lucrezia Magazine

“This one is a scorcher. If you're looking for a romance to raise the temperatures, then look no further than McCarty's
Running Wild!
”

—
Romance Reader at Heart

“Provide[s] werewolf romance fans with a strong, heated collection. Fans will be
Running Wild
.”

—
Midwest Book Review

More praise for the novels of Sarah McCarty

“[A] pulse-pounding paranormal.”

—
Road to Romance

“Masterfully written.”

—
The Romance Readers Connection

“Powerfully erotic, emotional, and thought provoking.”

—
Ecataromance

“Has the WOW factor . . . Characters that jump off the pages!”

—
Just Erotic Romance Reviews

“Toe-curling.”

—
Fallen Angel Reviews
(recommended read)

“Ms. McCarty is a genius!”

—
Romance Junkies

Titles by Sarah McCarty

RUNNING WILD

WILD INSTINCT

PROMISES REVEAL

The Shadow Wranglers

CALEB

JARED

JACE

SLADE

The Shadow Reapers

REAPER'S JUSTICE

REAPER'S VOW

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

Copyright © 2014 by Sarah McCarty.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

BERKLEY SENSATION
^®
is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-61355-9

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

McCarty, Sarah.

Reaper's vow / Sarah McCarty—Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition.

pages cm— (The shadow's reapers)

ISBN 978-0-425-24770-9 (pbk.)

1. Werewolves—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3613.C3568R43 2014

813'.6—dc23 2013043329

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / March 2014

Cover art by Phil Heffernan.

Cover design by George Long.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

For those who've fought their way back from the physical or emotional brink, and all those who supported them. Welcome home.

1

They were out there. Cole patted his big palomino, Rage, on the shoulder and listened to the breeze rustle through the leaves, the low rasp joining the warning tingle creeping up his spine. Finally. The ones who'd kidnapped his cousin Addy were within reach. Untying the leather thong keeping his rifle in the scabbard, he smiled in anticipation. Demon wolves. Reapers. Outlaws. He didn't give a shit what fanciful names anyone called the men who'd torn up the town and stolen his cousin. He was getting her back. No matter how long it took. He'd been tracking their sorry asses for two months. Two long months in which he'd been led down more false trails than he'd care to admit. Addy's kidnappers were clever. He grazed his fingers over the hilt of the knife riding his hip. But cleverness wasn't going to save them. Nothing was. He had the tenacity of a badger when it came to family. And his brothers and Addy were all the family he had left.

Let her go.

Reese's order rippled along his consciousness. Normally, he valued his younger brother's opinion, but this time the echo of Reese's voice wasn't something Cole wanted to hear. Reese had the asinine notion Isaiah was good for Addy. What she wanted. The answer to a prayer. Cole snorted. Yet at the same time Reese believed Isaiah was a legendary Reaper. One of the demon spawn, the stories said, that haunted the mountains surrounding their valley, protecting it from outsiders with strength and reflexes that outdid a normal man's tenfold. A man capable of turning into a wolf. A monster. Cole shook his head. This was the man Reese thought was right for their cousin Addy? Shit, his brother had to have lost his mind to believe that Reapers were anything but humans with a fanciful reputation or to believe that Addy's request to leave with Isaiah had been anything but coerced.

A trickle of energy came at Cole from the right. Edgy and stealthy. The knife-edge pulse of power a hunter put out. Cole had no doubt who was the prey. Shit. The Reapers were now hunting him as much as he'd been hunting them. Which wasn't quite how he'd planned on things going. Reaching down, he slid his rifle free of the scabbard. After two months he was finally close enough to Addy's kidnappers to get their attention. Another tingle went down his spine. Different. Familiar. Addy. She was near. Instinct said call out. Common sense kept him quiet. If Addy was anywhere nearby, she was dangling as bait.

A curse ripped through his mind right along with another surge of bad energy. Trouble.

He spat the bad taste from his mouth, scanning the hills and ledges sporadically dotted with trees that made up the high mountain landscape, feeling the battle coming. With a smile Cole rested his rifle across his lap. It was about damn time.

The fuckers might have stolen Addy, but he'd get her back. He'd done it before, and he'd do it again. And if the Reapers had harmed one hair on her head, there'd be no mercy. Not like before. Before he'd been so horrified at the way he'd found her, he hadn't thought of anything except getting Addy home. He levered the shells into the chamber of the Spencer. This time he'd hunt their sorry asses down and gut them. Make them pay. Every single last one of them.

Against the backdrop of the current tension in the air, Cole saw again the way Addy had looked at him in that Indian camp. The terror in her eyes. The shattered lightness that had been her soul. Because he hadn't been home when the attack had come fifteen years ago. Hadn't been able to protect her. He'd promised himself right then he'd never see that look in her eyes again. Yet here he was back on her trail, same as before, worry riding tandem with anger, in all likelihood about to face the same shattered look. Only this time he didn't know if Addy could recover. There was only so much a body could take. And Addy had already had her fill. Hell, for that matter, so had he.

Goddamn. It wasn't fair this should happen to her twice in one lifetime. Addy was fragile. She always had been, but her time with the Indians had left her broken. It'd taken her years to rebuild her world. He'd watched her do it, every step forward anchored by a new ritual. Every ritual anchored in her worry stone. She never went anywhere without her worry stone, but she didn't have it now. Cole reached into his pocket and touched it. He'd found it lying in a pool of blood in the remnants of the battle like a plea. Or a warning.

He shook his head again. Before she'd been a child, but now she was a woman grown, and there were ways a man could hurt a woman . . . Cole jerked his hat down as the old knot of dread in his stomach flared. He didn't want to think about that. Steering the big palomino off the path into a small cut in the rise, he pushed back the memories and focused on the increasing tingle along his spine that forecasted the trouble that was coming.

Closing his eyes, Cole traced the energy. The ability was a gift he'd been born with and one he'd honed over the years. It'd saved his life more times than he could count. The surges were coming at him from two, no, three directions. He frowned. They were flanking him. Driving him forward like a sheep to the slaughter. He looked around. Steep hills surrounded him on either side. No way out. He had two choices: to go back or to ride into a trap. There was no good place to take a stand here. And there wouldn't be where they waited, but there was a chance he could find a spot between here and there. The only good news was they probably weren't aware that he knew what they were doing. That warning tingle had always been his advantage. The thing that kept him alive. That and his reflexes. He had very good reflexes.

With a press of his knee Cole urged Rage forward. The horse, surefooted and stable, responded. Rage was always Cole's choice when he went to battle. A man needed someone steady by his side when things got hairy, which maybe explained why he'd never gotten married. Women were a liability. Sweet and sexy and satisfying to dally with, but they tended to the emotional. He had enough responsibilities. He didn't need the challenge of one more. Truth was, he was getting tired. The tingle got stronger snaking down his spine. He looked around. And careless, if his current predicament was anything to go by. He'd wanted to find the Reapers, but on his terms, not theirs.

Ahead the path twisted through the rocky hillside. The trees were getting sparse. The palomino nickered. Cole patted Rage's shoulder three times, the way he did when he wanted to let the animal know trouble was coming. The horse tossed his head in anticipation, and the energy rippling through his muscles spread to Cole. Cole contained it with ruthless determination. He wasn't an excitable man, but it was hard not to respond to those primitive surges. Not to let his own restless need override the hard-won lesson of patience. He'd been waiting a long time for this confrontation, and he had a lot on the line. Too much to go off like a kid.

Ahead the path split around a copse of trees, but there wasn't a goddamn clue as to what lay beyond, either. Which meant they had the advantage. He paused. It was natural for man and horse to go to the right. He touched the reins to Rage's neck, directing him left.

From the bushes came a low growl. Dropping the reins and whipping out his revolver, Cole took aim. But there was nothing at which to shoot. Goddamn. The Reapers were like fucking ghosts. There but not. Energy snapped around his head. He snapped around with it, expecting to see a Reaper, but there was nothing. The growl came again, this time from the other side. Rage spun and crow-hopped two steps, taking them down the other path. The growling stopped. Cole leaned back, directing Rage to stop; Cole's senses flared, searching for a clue. Had that growl been deliberate? Was he being driven right? What the hell did it matter? To stand and fight here would be a fool's game. He was exposed on all sides. Rage nickered and backed up two steps until Cole patted his neck. “That's not an option.”

At this point his options were limited; whichever way he went, trouble was waiting. He saw a gray shadow slip through the low brush. It disappeared before he could get off a shot. If that was a wolf, it was damn quick.

Man. Wolf. Whatever form they take, Reapers are lightning fast.

Reeses's description whispered through his mind. Cole swore. The one thing he didn't need right now was nonsense flitting through his head. From above and to the right, a pebble tumbled down the wall, the slight noise sounding as loud as a gunshot in the unnatural silence. He glanced up, squinting against the morning sun. The pebble gathered speed and company, sending a spray of dirt sliding down the hill.

Along with scent of dust came the same frustration he'd had fifteen years ago when he'd hunted for Addy after everyone else had given up. The same feeling of chasing shadows, not substance. The same impatience. He pushed the emotions aside, forcing his muscles to relax. He might not have the advantage, but he was ready.

“Come on, fuckers.”

A surge of energy whispered around him like smoke blown on the wind, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Energy like nothing he'd ever felt before. Not good or evil but . . . powerful.

Demons.

Reese's claim about Reapers whipped through his mind. Cole shook his head, scanned the trail, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. Shit! Now he was getting as fanciful as his brother. On edge from too little sleep, too much coffee, and too much worry, he was giving too much credit where credit wasn't due. Isaiah Jones might have a bit more speed, a bit more presence than most, but was as human as he. He'd seen his eyes, touched his skin, and seen him bleed.

Felt his power.

The insidious thought pricked his practicality. Cole shrugged that off, too. Some men were just better at giving off energy, like himself. It didn't mean they were more than human, and for sure if Jones had been a demon, Addy would have seen through him from the get-go. Addy knew about evil. She wouldn't have made the foolish mistake of taking him into her home.

Into her heart.

Another unwelcome notion Reese had brought up. Cole wanted to spit the thought out; it left that bad a taste in his mouth. Damn Reese and his preaching. No way could Addy be in love with Jones. The man wore trouble the way some wore chaps. By all rights, one look at him should have sent sweet Addy running for cover. That it hadn't irked Cole to no end. It made no sense, and things that didn't make sense churned his gut, but the one thing Addy hadn't been afraid of was that man. And that took skill. Not magic. The same skill a cardsharp used in a poker game. Illusion and pretense. That was all the magic Jones possessed.

Cole remembered how Addy had stood in the curve of Jones's arm and defied them while Jones had looked . . . befuddled. Shit. Cole shook his head again at the instant of sympathy he'd felt for the man at the time. He urged Rage forward with a press of his knees. He didn't know what Jones had done to make Addy cuddle up to him like he was her favorite feather bed, but it wasn't going to work on Cole. And no doubt it'd stopped working on Addy by now. Jones might have had her walking around as if under some lovesick spell, but that had ended the night of the dance when all hell had broken loose. When the wolves had attacked. When Jones had . . . Cole frowned. He had memory lapses about that night due to his injuries, but he knew Isaiah had done something. Something that had put a look of horror and terror in Addy's eyes. Jones was going to pay for that. Cole had promised Addy she'd never have to be afraid again when he'd brought her home the first time. Now Jones had made a liar out of him. That score needed settling as much as Addy needed rescuing.

Another trickle of rocks signaled more movement above. Different pulses of energy flicked at him. Animal and human. One, two, five, ten. Too many too count. Too many too sort. All moving in from different angles, different distances. All centered on him. Farther down the trail Cole could see where the hills sloped toward each other and narrowed the path, the perfect place for an ambush. Looking over his shoulder, the path was just as narrow. There was no going back and no going forward. Ahead and again to the right, there was another cut in the bank. The space was just big enough to hold him. He patted Rage's shoulder, reached behind, and unbuckled his saddlebags.