Reaper's Pack (All the Queen's Men Book 1)

by Rhea Watson

  My vision blurred, only clearing when I blinked sluggishly and sniffled, refusing to let a single tear fall.

  “Is this how it’s supposed to feel?” I asked hoarsely. Gunnar’s frown deepened, and Declan moved closer, standing between my knees and stroking the tops of my legs with his thumbs.

  “What do you mean, sweet?”

  “I mean… being fated,” I managed, fighting for every word, my body suddenly craving sleep—with all three of them around me. “I feel… whole. Is this… how it’s supposed to feel?”

  Gunnar’s expression lifted as he exchanged a quick glance with a grinning Declan, and Knox cleared his throat, holding me just a little tighter.

  “Can’t tell you, reaper,” he insisted, his tone gruff as always—but a little light twinkling in those midnight-black eyes. “This is the first time we’ve been fated to anyone.”

  I risked another sip of my tea as Declan murmured, “But it feels right, doesn’t it? Like this is how it was always meant to be?”

  The drink scorched down my throat, burned my tongue, and I didn’t care. If the pack continued to look at me like they did right now, every day, for the rest of our days, I honestly wouldn’t care about anything ever again.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. Gunnar swooped a rogue lock of white behind my ear, smirking.

  “Then… yes, I think this is how it’s supposed to feel.”

  Only one little thought worried me. “Is that how you guys feel too?”

  “I can’t speak for anyone, but it’s how I’ve felt since August,” Declan insisted, holding his hands up innocently and stepping back when Gunnar rolled his eyes and Knox growled. “Just saying… I’ve been waiting for the rest of you to catch up for ages.”

  I brought my tea up to hide my smile, breathing it in as Gunnar swatted at his packmate.

  “We get it.”

  “You all said it was puppy love, but here we are—”

  “Shut up, Dec…”

  Declan swerved dramatically to avoid another smack and then flicked Gunnar dead center in the chest, which kicked off a little shoving match that made Knox sigh before nuzzling his face into my neck, over his mark, not bothering to stop the playful squabbling.

  I watched on without a thought in my head.

  Just a fullness in my heart.

  An ache between my thighs.

  Three permanent marks on my skin…

  And my favorite tea in my belly.

  26

  Hazel

  “Wow. So that guy is just… takin’ a shit on the sidewalk, huh?”

  “Declan.” I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh—a task made infinitely more difficult when Gunnar snorted, both him and Declan watching the human who had no idea he wasn’t alone… shitting on the sidewalk. To be fair, he couldn’t see us, and it was a relatively empty part of Lunadell, the sun only just inching above the horizon, the city still asleep. Based on the cloud cover, we were in for another grey autumn day, the end of October within sight, the trials looming ever closer.

  “Focus,” Knox ordered, his beastly tone snapping Declan and Gunnar back into the moment. Three sets of eyes landed on me, and after a week of nonstop sex, sometimes with just one of them, usually with the entire pack, I no longer felt their intense weight on my shoulders. And thank goodness—finally. After all, we were here for work, not play. With only a precious seven days before the four of us had to prove ourselves to an archangel with a stopwatch and a clipboard, these test runs were serious business.

  Although… The human to our right taking his sweet time pushing out the longest shit in the history of mankind sort of took the edge off. Clearing my throat, I smoothed a hand down my reaper’s robes with a sigh.

  “Okay, you guys know the drill,” I told them in my best serious-reaper voice. “There are five orbs scattered around Lunadell with soul-scent signatures. Your job will be to herd them back to that building.” I pointed to the nearby structure, a warehouse amidst dozens in the city’s south-end industrial zone. “It’s where our tester will be waiting for you. On the day, we’ll be using real souls, so I’ve charmed the orbs to react accordingly. They’ll run. They’ll hide. They’ll attack. You have forty-five minutes to wrangle all of them back as a unit.”

  While today was just a practice, something to get the pack familiar with the exact landscape they would be tested on in a week’s time, I wanted them to do well. Needed them to succeed. After all, the bite marks on my shoulders and wrist still hadn’t healed, and by shifter lore, we were fated. These were my boys. The thought of Heaven sending them back to Fenix so they could wait for another reaper to select them, train them all over again, made me want to vomit. Failure just wasn’t an option, and while we might have spent the last week in a bubble of sex and food and murmured conversations in front of a flickering fire, I had seven days to get my pack as ready as possible for the biggest test of our lives.

  And this practice run was just for the first exam on the first day… They would have seven trials to complete under an angel’s watchful eye, and when the time came, all I would be able to do was sit back and watch. For the next week, I could step in as needed, give guidance where possible, and do everything in my power to ensure my boys passed with flying colors.

  After that, the real work began—but they would be with me for the rest of their lives, just like Fate intended.

  That was all that mattered.

  “I’ll be waiting for you on the roof,” I added. “My scythe is planted there—use it for direction. They’ll try to trick you during the real trials, get you all turned around in the city’s core so that you can’t locate the drop-off point as easily. So, get more accustomed to its power, to the aura it gives off here. You might be able to sense me across the celestial plane, maybe even feel me, but one of the trials is proving you’ve bonded to my scythe. That when it calls, you come running.”

  Knox’s lips thinned at the sentiment, and he crossed his burly arms in a sullen silence. While we might have bonded officially, his mark the deepest in my flesh, he still wasn’t thrilled with any of this. The very idea of proving his pack’s capabilities to an angel offended him, but at this point it was a necessary evil we just had to get through.

  We hadn’t discussed it, but despite his brooding, I really hoped he understood that this was all temporary. In a week, there would be no one to interfere, no one to judge or monitor us. Beyond the standard rules of reaping, we would be on our own.

  I gave his bicep a gentle squeeze, which earned me an annoyed nostril-huff and a scowl. Across our little huddle, Declan met my eye, and even though I still couldn’t feel the pack bond like they could, I sensed his reaction to his alpha’s mood, practically heard his sweet lilt whispering around my head.

  He’s fine. Just ignore him.

  I gave him a barely discernible nod, the corners of my mouth just kicking up—for him, for his kindness, for the way he was always there to reassure me with nothing more than a look.

  “All right…” I clapped my hands together, then lifted a prompting eyebrow. When no further questions came, I motioned to the pack with a grin. “Let’s do this, then.”

  The trio started to strip down, efficient and careful with their clothing. For once, I didn’t look away—didn’t bother to hide my obvious interest in their physical perfection. My eyes wandered, wild and unchecked, over every pronounced ridge, every torso of rippling muscle. Broad shoulders, even my lean, sleek Gunnar. Toned, powerful thighs.

  Yum.

  Gunnar caught my eye during my very obvious perusal, and his knowing smirk had me blushing ever so faintly.

  “Is there a reward for a job well done, reaper?” he drawled, sweeping his gaze up and down my body just as openly as I had his. After a week of carnality, you’d think they would be satisfied, that I would be satisfied, but it seemed like we could never get enough of each other. One hellhound would finish with me, bodies slick and spent, and then another would sidle in to pin me against a wall or bend me over a tabl
e. As a group, we’d finish up, everyone attended to, but then someone’s nuzzling would turn salacious, and bam, it would start all over again.

  I shrugged innocently. “Maybe. Do a good job and we’ll see, won’t we?”

  The look he exchanged with Declan told me we most certainly would see, whether the pack succeeded or not. Knox, meanwhile, appeared to be scoping out our surroundings, hands on his hips, his stance protective. Swallowing hard, I resisted the urge to drag my tongue up his back, between his rippling shoulders—I didn’t want to distract him. The instinct to observe his surroundings was a good one, one I didn’t want him to lose for the sake of a little flirting.

  But the street was empty, the human shitter in the next realm gone, probably in search of breakfast. Warehouses and storage facilities lined either side of the two-lane road, a few vans parked here and there, unmanned and silent.

  “You have forty-five minutes,” I told them, dipping into my most professional tone as I checked my rarely used wristwatch. As if taking that as a cue, the pack shifted in unison, three gorgeous male specimens on two legs morphing to three handsome hounds on four. I curled my hands into fists so that they didn’t bury themselves in Declan’s shaggy fur; it was just so sinfully soft that I almost couldn’t help myself. Clearing my throat, I tracked the third arm on my watch, tick, tick, ticking ever closer to the twelve mark. Once it hit, I snapped my fingers. “Go.”

  And they were off in a hurry, Knox at the helm, Gunnar and Declan fanning out behind him. Hands clasped behind my back, I watched them charge down the street with an affectionate smile, one that stretched all the way down to my heart. I could have followed them, teleported around the city to track their progress, but it was best to let them do their thing without my scent distracting them.

  Because apparently it did.

  A lot.

  And apparently, I smelled different to each one of them, which had made my eyes water with happy tears the first time they told me.

  As soon as the last tail disappeared around the corner at the end of the quiet street, I nodded. No need to follow them—because I had such faith that they would blow these practice tests out of the water. If anything, at this point I just wanted to see them in action.

  Anyway.

  Curling my loose hair behind my ears, I started off toward the warehouse across the street, atop which I’d wait for their return with all five of my tricky soul orbs.

  Only suddenly—I felt it.

  A ripple in the celestial plane.

  A shudder in the air around me, pungent enough that it made my stomach turn.

  Halfway across the pothole-ridden road, I whipped around—and found a demon staring me down.

  At least… a possible demon. With all that red blood weeping from sigils carved so precisely into his pale flesh, I had my doubts.

  Demons bled black, black as that familiar head of oiled-back hair, a hint of stylishness that matched his charcoal-grey suit. Only his cuffs were frayed, his leather oxfords scuffed. That red blood could be a symptom of magic, something to disguise his true nature.

  The pack and I had discussed this at length.

  We’d also assumed Heaven would have dealt with him by now. I mean, I had filed a report with them ages ago. They had a whole department for exactly this. In theory.

  And that theory was the only reason Knox had agreed to leave me alone today, to even participate in the test while I stood waiting on that rooftop all by my lonesome.

  I shifted my weight between both legs, sizing him up, this somewhat attractive creature who had stolen one soul out from under me already.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, a measured gravitas behind every word—something to tell him that I had the authority in this realm. The man tipped his head to the side, squinting his left eye when blood dribbled over his brow and into the bloodstained white. A fresh pentagram had been carved into his forehead, a few extra flourishes added inside the circle to suggest this was more than some human Satanist bullshit.

  A cool October wind cut down the street suddenly, strong enough to rattle a few windows in the mortal realm. Here, it only tickled the ends of my hair, whispered across my skin.

  Fine. If he wasn’t going to talk, then I’d just have to make him.

  “What do you want?” I stalked toward him, a hand raised to summon my scythe. It sat waiting for the pack on the warehouse roof, but my palm prickled with its response, already whooshing toward me.

  Only it would never reach me.

  The second my foot pounded the concrete with my next step, up sprang a wall of orange light. I yelped, surprise knocking me off-balance, and stumbled back into something that burned. The yelp morphed into a startled squeal, the back of my black robe singed, the scent of burned hair making my heart pound just a little faster. All around me, orange light shot up and split, swiftly forming four walls of bars—and a roof to top it all off.

  A cage.

  Of light.

  Of magic.

  My first instinct was to teleport out—but that got me nowhere, my efforts wasted. Nor could I cross out of the celestial plane. The shimmering bars seemed to mute my abilities, and a tentative touch had me hissing and shoving my fingertip into my mouth as the flesh sizzled and blistered.

  “What do I want?” The creature’s voice echoed around the confines of my cage, like a dozen different voices of varying pitches were shrieking at me. I winced, then flinched back when I found him right up against the bars of my makeshift prison. He wrapped his hand around a staticky beam of orange light, staring at me, totally emotionless. “I want you, Hazel.”

  Without the drama of all the different voices, he sounded strained. Hoarse. Like he had been screaming all night for many nights in the recent past.

  My heart sank.

  He knew my name.

  “Stop. You don’t have to do this,” I insisted firmly.

  “Yes,” he muttered, his back to me, dragging my cage with one hand. “Yes, I do.”

  The creature hauled the cage up the street—headed straight for a portal painted across the pavement, one that bloomed red out of nowhere, the color sharpening with his approach. It hadn’t been there when we’d arrived; I was sure of it.

  Nothing had been out of place.

  It had just been a quiet street…

  I gave it one last go—tried to summon my scythe, to teleport out of here. My scythe had made it to the street level; it lay on its side in front of a garage door, useless, unable to hear my call anymore. While I felt the familiar pull of teleportation, I stayed put, a tension headache splitting my skull in two, streaking from the base of my spine right up and over, settling between my eyes.

  The cage didn’t extend underfoot, the road exposed beneath me, but a frantic pulse of my own magic only cracked the pavement—barely. And if I didn’t keep moving, the bars would smack into me from behind, burning me down to, what, the bone?

  Yes, I’d heal—but how quickly and to what extent was the question. Magic of this kind was so far out of my repertoire; souls had been my life for the last ten years. I knew the magic of the celestial plane inside and out, but not this. Not something capable of searing my flesh.

  Damn it. The bloodred portal in the ground loomed closer and closer with each of the creature’s shuffling steps, and my options were running painfully thin.

  “Look, you don’t have to—” A savage baritone reverberated off every building around us; I whirled around to find Knox charging down the street, teeth bared, that huge hellhound body racing like a furious storm. Unable to stay still, I backpedaled, eyes wide and heart leaping into my throat. “Knox!”

  The creature picked up his pace, and I stumbled again to avoid the magic’s bite, only to lose my footing and slam into the bars on the other side of the cage with a cry. Knox barreled toward me at full speed, and behind him two other enormous shadows ripped around the corner. My boys were here. They wouldn’t let him—

  The ground disappeared from under me the seco
nd I crossed onto the portal. The cage plummeted. The pack disappeared, their snarls distant, so very far beyond my reach…

  And I fell screaming into the black.

  27

  Knox

  I knew this was a bad idea.

  Knew it in my gut from the moment Hazel had proposed it yesterday. She shouldn’t have been left alone. Of course no one had dealt with this bastard yet. Shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t trust anyone else to protect our mate—

  Paws pounding the pavement, I skidded to a halt over the bloody portal, an intricate series of runes that had not been here when we’d first arrived. I had made sure of that, but I should have given the area a proper patrol. Should have done more. Should have been better…

  Nothing happened when I stomped over the marks. Not when I dug at the bright red inscriptions, the scent of fresh human blood so briny I tasted it with every heaving breath. Raking my claws over the ground, I snapped and bit at the spot where she had last stood, her final fleeting moments before the portal opened and the ground swallowed her whole. Hazel’s scent lingered, but even on the celestial plane, the morning breeze threatened to sweep it away.

  Howls erupted from the rest of the pack, despondent and furious in equal measures. Rage and confusion and fear tore through our bond, and I shifted back to the sound of Gunnar and Declan’s claws scratching over the pavement.

  Gone.

  She was gone.

  He had taken her—our mate.

  Ours.

  Fate had given her to us on a silver fucking platter, and I’d been too damn stubborn to see it all this time. And now, after just a taste of paradise, it was gone. Ripped away.

  “What happened?” Gunnar demanded, sweat glistening across his pale flesh after the shift, his chest heaving, his aura quivering with fury. “What the fuck just happened?”

  Declan nosed around the sigil frantically, searching her out in his hound form and whimpering when he came up empty.

  “I should have known—”