Dark Kiss Of The Reaper (4 page)

Empty-handed, she turned and thudded into something hard.

And warm.

And so not a hallucination.

“Sara Donovan.”

The voice skittered through her with familiar heat. She knew it, before she even looked up. “You...” Backing away, she lifted a finger to point. Her hand trembled.

“Azrael,” he said, as though she’d forgotten.

“I know who you are.” A frightening thought shuffled her back another step. She bumped into the vending machine and swallowed, wondering if something bad was about to happen to her. “Why did you come back? Are you here for me?”

He nodded, a slight smile softening his beautiful mouth. “I had to come back. You can see me.”

A little shiver ripped down her spine. So that was it. She’d seen what he’d done to Edna – whatever that was – and now he was here to make sure she kept her mouth shut.

“If you try anything, so help me, I’ll scream loud enough to wake the dead.” She raised her hands as she had the night in Edna’s room, this time flattening them like blades. “I know karate. I can kill a man twelve different ways without breaking a sweat.” Complete and utter lie, but considering the circumstances, very forgivable.

The smile thinned. “I am not here to harm you.” Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Only to understand more about you.”

“You don’t need to understand anything about me except that I’m going to start counting, and if you’re not gone by the time I hit three, the screaming begins.”

“Scream all you want. Anyone who comes to your aid will find you in an empty room.”

“You can’t run that fast.” Or maybe he could. He’d disappeared into thin air the last night she’d seen him.

“I don’t intend to run anywhere.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her with such intensity her head swam.

Her hands dropped a half-centimeter. “What do you mean?” But she already had a feeling.

“No one sees me but you.”

Crap. That was the feeling she’d had. “That’s crazy. Or it means I’m crazy. And I’m not.” She swallowed, exhaled hard. Her hands fell a little lower.

“You’re not crazy. But you are special.”

She groaned softly. A guy who thought he was death personified also thought she was special. Was there anything that said loser more than that? “I think you might be the crazy one. Actually, I know you are.”

A tinny squeak accompanied the door opening. Manda stuck her head in. “Your head hurting you again?”

“No, not exactly...” Didn’t Manda see him?

“Then why you hanging out in the dark?”

Sara looked past the silky curve of one wing. Nothing about Manda’s expression indicated she saw anything unusual. “No reason. Do you...see anything...odd about this room?”

“Other than my unit secretary looking like she’s about to karate chop someone, no.” Manda’s pursed lips did little to hide the laughter in her eyes.

Sara dropped her hands. “I’ll be there in a minute. I was just getting some water.”

“Sure you were.” Manda snorted. “See you later, Bruce Lee.” She closed the door, humming
Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting
as she went.

Holy crap on an invisible biscuit. Manda hadn’t seen him. “She didn’t see you.”

Looking rather vindicated, he smirked. “As I said, it’s only you.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I’m seeing ghosts. I’ve lost my mind and I’m seeing ghosts.”

He laughed softly, putting music in the air. “I’m not a ghost, I am the Angel of Death.”

She stared at him from beneath her lashes. “And that’s different how?” She shook her head. Having a headache was better than this. “I don’t believe you, you know. I think you’re insane and you need help. Which is unfortunate because a guy that looks like you really, really ought to be sane.”

A single dark brow lifted to punctuate his stony face. “Shall I prove it to you?”

“What? That you’re not crazy?”

“That I am the Angel of Death.”

New fear flooded her mind in a cold rush. Was that a threat? “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

He held out his hand. “Take you with me.”

“What? No way. Where?” She shook her head. His hand stretched out before her, tempting her to reach for him. Thick, uncalloused fingers and a broad, lined palm. Half of her thought going with a man this gorgeous couldn’t be a bad thing – why not call his bluff? – and the other half thought her first half needed to be institutionalized.

“Don’t touch me. I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re not even really here.” That had to be it. She was hallucinating. Why, she had no idea, but it was better than believing a real live grim reaper was trying to abduct her.

“Sara.”

He whispered her name so softly she wasn’t sure she’d heard it at all. She looked into his eyes and the edges of her peripheral vision blurred away. Such a kind face. Such a comforting smile...

His hand tightened over hers. She startled, unaware she’d put her hand in his until the feel of his warm grasp woke her from whatever fugue state she’d slipped into. She’d been right about no calluses, but his skin held a pleasant roughness—what was she doing? She yanked her hand back, surprised when he let it go without a fight. “This is crazy.”

“Sara.” Again, that same soft, sexy whisper. “How else will you know the truth?”

“There’s got to be another way.”

“No harm will come to you, I swear it.” He extended his hand.

Trust me.
The words sighed through her. She nodded, unable to squelch the trepidation in her belly, but also unable to deny the magnetic pull to discover more about this man.

The edges of her vision blurred further, obscuring what was real and what wasn’t. He led her into the hall, or what used to be the hall.

Her heart skidded against her ribs. Fog spiraled around the pale flanks of an enormous horse. It shook its great head, tossing a cloud-colored mane and snorting hot breath. She jumped behind Azrael. His wing brushed her cheek, soft as kitten fur. Better a crazy man than a flesh-eating horse from hell.

“What the crap is that?” She stared at the creature.
Deep breath, deep breath, this is probably just a dream
. She’d rather have the Caribbean back. That didn’t scare the pee out of her. She inhaled his warm, male scent, like vanilla pipe smoke and leather.

“That’s Pallidus, my horse.” He reached out and rubbed the beast’s snowy neck. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Azrael slipped his arm around her waist and drew her out from behind him. The intimate touch melted her knees. She grabbed hold of his bicep for support, her fingers barely spanning the muscle.

“Pallidus knows you are to be protected.”

“He does? How do you know? What are you, the horse whisperer of grim reapers?” She tried to back away, but Azrael’s arm didn’t budge. “He looks...hungry.”

Azrael gave a short laugh, softening the edge of her nerves. “He hasn’t eaten anyone yet.”

“It’s the yet that worries me.”

“He’s very partial to having his nose rubbed.”

She inched her hand toward the animal. His gray eyes focused on her. He dipped his head. Swallowing, she let her fingers brush Pallidus’ nose. Warm and velvety. It seemed impossible that a creature with a nose like a baby’s bottom could mean her any harm. She gave him a little scratch and let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Okay, you have a horse. That doesn’t prove you’re the Angel of Death.” How he’d gotten the animal in the hospital, she had no idea. Manda would have a freakin’ fit if this animal dropped its business on her floor.

“We’ve only begun.” Azrael mounted the horse in one fluid movement, then held his hands out to her. “Come.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not getting on that thing.”

Pallidus snorted and stomped a hoof.

She held her hands up. “Sorry, you’re not a thing. You’re a very lovely animal. Really. Can’t say when I’ve seen a more beautiful stallion in my life.” Now she was apologizing to a horse. How much further could the weird envelope be pushed?

Pallidus whinnied softly and Azrael laughed and patted the horse’s side.

“Are you two...talking?” Apparently, there was tons of room left in that envelope.

He nodded. “In a sense, yes.” He held out his hands again.

“No.”

“Sara.”

What was it about the way he said her name? Reluctantly, she took his hands. He lifted her easily, seating her sidesaddle in front of him.

“Bring your other leg over.” He patted Pallidus’s other side.

Good thing she’d worn pants today. She did as he asked, settling onto the horse’s back. Azrael’s muscled thighs cradled hers. His warmth seeped through her trousers, melting her nerves into an acquiescent puddle. She exhaled, hotter than she’d been in a long time. “There aren’t any reins. What am I going to hold onto? I don’t want to fall off this thin—horse.”

“Take hold of Pallidus’ mane if need be.”

Threading her fingers into the horse’s thick white hair, Sara glanced over her shoulder.

“Where exactly are we going?”

And why didn’t I ask that before I got on this beast?

* * *

Azrael hesitated. What to tell her that wouldn’t frighten her? He realized what she was about to see might scare her more than was healthy, but then again...it might not. And it would undoubtedly prove who he was. “I have work to do. I’m taking you with me.”

He slipped an arm around her waist to keep her secure. The move pressed her further against him, connecting them thigh to thigh, bottom to groin, back to chest. The feel of her seduced him with a fierceness that took his breath. He inhaled sharply, drinking in air as he searched for a safe place to focus.

There was none.

He sank into her rich warmth, let it flow around and through him until it possessed him like a dragonfly trapped in amber. The softness of her curves set his hands to trembling. But the scent of her was what threatened to undo him.

Life. The very essence of it perfumed her. Joy and happiness, sorrow and pain, laughter and tears. Vibrant and electric, it buzzed through him, nothing like the faint hum of life left in the mortals whose souls he reaped. This was hot and thick and real. No wonder his brothers craved mortal touch.

Already overwhelmed, he inhaled more of her, his eyes closed against the unbearable wonderfulness sparking through him. When he opened his eyes, he knew it was too late. He was enslaved. Addicted. There would be no turning back. He wanted her.

But more than that...he wanted her to want him in return. There was no other way being with her would be possible.

“Remember,” he whispered through her straight brown locks, gathering his control in a tight fist. “Nothing will harm you. I promise.”

She leaned into him, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. “I don’t know why, but I believe you. I feel safe with you. I don’t have a reason to, but I do.”

Her lips were so close it would take but a slight bend of his head to match them to his, but her words stopped him. She felt safe. He would not jeopardize that feeling and risk losing whatever small trust had begun to build between them.

“Good.” The single word was all he could manage. He nudged Pallidus’ sides and the animal moved forward. Mist enveloped them, obscuring Sara’s world while they shifted into his.

The mist gave way. Sara gasped, her nails dug into his arm. So that was pain. The sensation intrigued more than it hurt.

A soft cry escaped her and she pressed into him, turning her face into his chest and clutching handfuls of his robe. “Is this real? Tell me this isn’t real.”

He gazed down onto the earth below. Clouds disappeared beneath Pallidus’ hooves as he galloped though the sky.

“It is, but there’s no need to be afraid.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.” She clung tighter.

“It’s safe, I promise.” Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and held her. Zeus Almighty, she felt good in his arms. He was rewarded with the slight relaxing of her tense form.

“Pallidus can fly?” She peered around his shoulder. “Without wings?”

“He doesn’t need them. He’s a very special horse.” How else to explain Pallidus’ ability? The horse was bred from the ancient line of Pegasus, but chances were Sara wouldn’t believe that either.

She eased up so she could look him in the eyes, but maintained her grip on his robes. “You told me I was special, now you say Pallidus is special – mind you, I’m not disagreeing. You don’t get much more special than a flying horse, but being put in the same category as a one is...well...disconcerting.”

He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Instead, he willingly drowned in her beautiful eyes. Copper, bronze, and gold, with shades of cinnamon, coffee and cocoa. He’d never known brown could be so rich or so delicious. One hand slipped up to caress her cheek, just a finger trailed along her jaw, nothing more. He wouldn’t risk it.

After this time with him, she would see who he really was. Once she fully understood, she might never want to see him again. Or might not be able to. Who knew what cruel trick the Fates would play next? Either way, he feared Kol’s words coming true – that Sara’s seeing him could only come to a bad end.