by A. C. Arthur
His body didn’t budge and the shocked look on her face almost pleased him. Except she wasn’t giving up that easy. Instead, she ducked low and slipped between the opening of his legs before kicking up her speed once more.
Fuck this!
Steele was tired of playing games with her. He faded until he was once again in front of her and when she came to a stop this time, he wrapped one arm around her waist, twisting her so fast she didn’t have time to react. When her back was against his front, he put his other arm around her neck and applied pressure to hold her still.
“I knew you were one of them,” she gasped.
He had no idea what she was talking about and didn’t care. There was only one goal where Ravyn was concerned—keeping her alive. It didn’t matter how much his beast was enjoying this close proximity to her, Steele had to remain focused on doing his job, at least one of them.
“You’re in danger,” he said, trying like hell to avoid the sweet scent of her hair that was just inches away from his nostrils. “But if you’d just calm down and listen to me, I think I can save you.”
“Ha!” She snapped her head back in an attempt to headbutt him, but Steele was ready for her attack.
He moved his head to the side and tightened his hold on her.
“I don’t need you to save me, jackass!”
“Yeah, I think you do.”
She squirmed trying to get free and once again Steele noted how strong her efforts were.
“I’m gonna let you go because strong-arming women is not my thing.”
“Really? I can’t tell.”
“But you’re gonna stand still and listen to what I have to say or the next time it’ll be more along the lines of flipping you over my shoulder and gagging you.” He really didn’t want to do that, but he’d thought about it all this week when he hadn’t seen her on the streets. If the only way he could stop her from dying was to keep her tied up in his hotel room until the timeframe for her death passed, he would.
How that was going to work when the Reaper finally appeared to claim the next soul on his list, Steele wasn’t quite clear, because there’d never been a time that he attempted to interfere with the Reaper’s job. He’d never purposely decided to not do the job he was born to do. All Steele knew was that the one time he’d hesitated to go against the Reaper, his sister had died. In doing his job, he’d let his family go through unspeakable grief and there was no way he was going to do that again.
“Say you agree to be still and listen, and I’ll let you go. Lie to me, Ravyn, and you’ll regret it.” Playtime was over. Death was as serious as it could get, and he needed her to jump on board with her own protection. But to do that he first had to figure out how he was going to explain that he kinda sorta worked with the Reaper. Like she even knew who or what that was.
If she kept squirming her plump little ass against him, he would also be explaining how much she turned him on, something he was still trying to figure out himself.
“I’m not gonna let you shake me down like they did four years ago. That’s over and done with!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby. I just want to help you.” He needed to help her because doing so would not only save her, but maybe it would save that part of him he’d let die with his sister too.
“I’m not your baby!”
Wait, had he really called her that? And was he really thinking that if he could somehow save her, all the guilt and pain he’d held close for more than a hundred years would just vanish? He took a deep breath and focused on releasing it slowly. He also zoomed in on how good she felt pressed up against him.
“Okay,” he began, the tone of his voice lowered, his body relaxing a bit. “I’m going to count to three and then let you go. But you’re not gonna run away and you’re not gonna scream again. You’re just going to stand there and give me ten minutes to explain.”
A few moments passed before she finally said, “Fine.”
He counted silently, something he knew pissed her off even more, and then he released her. She turned around immediately and took a couple retreating steps before stopping. “Your ten minutes start now.”
“As I told you before, my name is Steele Eze. I work for the Legion Security Company. It’s our job to protect hu...ah, protect anyone in need.” He paused and tried to convince the beast that it was better that her body was no longer rubbing against his, regardless of the strange emptiness he’d felt immediately after releasing her.
“And you’re Ravyn Walsh,” he continued when she gave him an and what? look.
“You know my name and you’ve been basically stalking me for the past few weeks. Tell me why I shouldn’t kick your balls through your throat and then stick my knife into your gut right now.”
Her hair was askew, her lips parted as she breathed through her mouth, brows arched over eyes that were heated with anger and fear. The latter was what burned Steele the most. There’d never been an occasion where he’d given a damn about a woman fearing him before and he didn’t want that to be the case now.
“I know your name the same way I know that you’re in danger. I’ve been following you so that I can keep something horrible from happening to you.”
“More horrible than being stalked and now attacked and held against my will by a stranger.”
“You’re welcome to leave at any time, but I’ll just keep watching you. Now that you’ve got that dagger, I think it’s better that I stick a little closer.”
Her hands were at her sides but now one moved back to instinctively press against her backpack as she assured herself that the dagger was still there. Everything about her stance said she didn’t trust a word he was saying. She wasn’t scared enough to run away from him again, nor was she completely buying the bits and pieces of information he was giving her. The contradiction frustrated him to no end because he shouldn’t give a damn how she felt. Caring had never been a part of his job before, not at the Legion or in dreams. So why this woman and why now? With every decision he made to handle this situation, a new question or problem arose, and it was maddening.
“The antiques dealer wouldn’t take it either, would she?” he asked. His only choice was to go with the flow.
She gave a little huff and shook her head, dismissing his question. “Doesn’t matter. It’s mine and it’s not cursed. And I’m definitely not giving it to you or sharing the money I’ll eventually get for it.”
She was lying to herself. He knew it and so did she.
“Two people have expressed fear of that dagger and they’ve told you it’s cursed. I’ve consulted a few books of my own and I’m pretty sure there’s some measure of truth to their story. Not to mention the time clock that’s attached to the curse. By my check, the next full moon is twenty-nine days away.”
“Well, I don’t believe in curses and spells and all that mumbo jumbo. All I know is that money rules around here and if I don’t have enough money to take care of me and mines, then we’re done. And I’m not about to let that happen.”
Me and mines. What exactly did that mean? See, more questions. Steele was ready to punch a hole in something or free his beast to have what it’d been craving. He was so sick of waffling back and forth between how much he should or shouldn’t care about this woman.
“Look, I don’t want your money, Ravyn. I just want to keep you safe. And I believe that the sooner you get rid of that dagger the better. So, I’m going to make you an offer.”
One brow lifted. “What type of offer?”
“Give me the dagger and live.” He was deadly serious, his tone somber, cool and honest. It was the best persuasive tool he possessed.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Nice try, big guy, but no go. I’m not giving you what I worked so hard to get.”
“You stole it. You’ve been stealing everything for weeks now and going to that pawn
shop to sell it. Give up this one thing and I’ll continue to not turn you in for stealing in the future.” He was never going to turn her in. That battle between right and wrong had been fought—and won—in his mind the first few times he’d watched her do it.
“I take what’s needed and that’s all. We... I need this and I’m not going to let you or the nonsense you’re spewing stop me. If you want to lock me up, then go ahead and do it. If this is going to be a shakedown, know that I’m going to fight you ’til death this time.”
The way in which she’d squared her shoulders and stood just a little bit straighter, one hand going to the waist of her pants where she kept her knife, told him she was serious. But none of what she was doing or saying was necessary.
“I don’t want anything from you,” he said and took a step closer to her because the beast inside couldn’t stay away a second longer, especially as Steele lied to her and himself. He did want something else from Ravyn, something he shouldn’t want, but was beginning to realize he desperately needed.
“Then get away from me. I’ll forget you dared to put your hands on me if you’ll just go and not bother me again.”
He was still moving toward her and she wasn’t moving away. She should probably back up. To do something to protect herself, even though pain or trauma were the last things on his mind at the moment.
“I can’t do that.” His voice was softer and that irritated the hell out of him.
“You can and if you don’t—”
Her words trailed off as he came to a stop inches away from her. She licked her lips and took a deep breath.
“If you don’t, I’ll call your job and report you,” she said in a huff. He suspected she was feeling a little off, just like he was. That would explain why she hadn’t run again when they both knew damn well she could have.
“I’m sure this Legion Company’s not paying you to act like some creep following women around the city.”
“No, they don’t,” he replied but didn’t back away from her. He couldn’t and that probably was creepy but not as creepy as waking up in the night sweating profusely after watching her stand on a rooftop and be struck down by the Reaper. The sight of her in the dream, her eyes motionless and hair in stiff strands, was too much for him to bear in real time. He wouldn’t let her die.
He warmed suddenly and took a moment to realize it was because he was touching her hair. Looking at his fingers he saw the soft dark strands moving along his palm and then feathering down to fall against her shoulder once more.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Saving your life,” he replied. “I’m going to save your life, Ravyn, whether you want me to or not.”
* * *
Go home. Stay there. I’ll come for you in the morning.
All directives or commands that she definitely planned to ignore because she didn’t know who the hell Steele Eze thought he was, but he definitely wasn’t her father. Not that there was anything General Ford Walsh could say to her now that Ravyn would even consider listening to. That time had long since passed.
Now was what concerned her more. Steele Eze and the way her body had not only changed temperatures but almost spontaneously combusted the moment he’d reached out and she thought he was going to touch her skin. Why she’d craved that touch, she had no idea, but when he’d touched her hair instead, she admitted to a slap of irritation. And then a feeling of discontent.
She shouldn’t want some man she didn’t know touching her and she didn’t need him protecting her, or whatever he called it. She didn’t need anyone for that. Any belief that a man was meant to be her savior had vanished when her father basically paid her to stay out of his life and then male enforcers dominated their way into her business before finally taking that from her.
After slamming her door and then locking it behind her, she walked quickly through her office and into her bedroom. She’d been moving ever since she’d stalked away from him in that alley and now that she was alone in the safest place she knew, she dropped down onto her bed and sighed with relief. Easing her arms through the straps of the backpack she’d been carrying half the day, she let it fall on the bed before covering her face with her hands and stifling a scream.
“What the hell? What the hell? What the dammit hell?”
The words came on a groan that eventually grew to an almost scream as she tried to figure out what had happened in this last week and why her life had taken yet another turn. She twisted around and unzipped the backpack, turning it over so that the green material rolled out and the dagger tumbled free.
“A cursed dagger,” she whispered, because talking to herself came as natural as breathing. That was a common thing with only children when they were in elementary school. For Ravyn, the habit had stuck, and besides, next to Cree, she was her own best friend and confidant.
“This dirty raggedy knife can’t be cursed. Ugly, but definitely not cursed.”
But as she ran her hands over the sheath while the dagger lay on her bed, she began to wonder. How had she jumped from a roof that night and run while calling for the rideshare? And why had she suddenly begun to feel better after being sick all week?
“The flu had run its course. Even Lorna had said four to five days and I’d start feeling better.”
Only she didn’t just feel better, as the day had gone on and she’d walked the streets trying to figure out what to do with this damn dagger, she’d started to feel like normal, but better.
“A curse that heals the flu.” She chuckled. “You’re crackin’ up, girl.” And that was something Ravyn couldn’t afford to do.
There were too many people counting on her. Forty-nine of them, to be exact. Safeside housed forty-nine people who’d been shut out or cut down by the world above. The city of Burgess and all its corrupt leaders and enforcers had beaten these people until their only recourse was to run and hide. There were more, Ravyn was certain of that fact, and she wanted to help them all. She wanted to do something good with her life, despite her father’s bitter and evil summation that she would never be any good to anybody.
“This stupid dagger isn’t going to save the world.”
She picked it up and turned to slide it beneath her pillow, the place she’d been keeping it every night since she’d stolen it. Standing from the bed she headed to the bathroom for a hot shower. When that was done, she turned out the light before climbing into bed once more and pulling the sheets up to her neck. She wondered if tonight would be the night she finally got some sleep.
From the way her mind still raced with questions about the dagger, worry over how she was going to feed everyone in Safeside if she couldn’t sell the dagger, and the man who claimed the dagger would be the death of her if she didn’t let him help her. Or rather, let him save her.
On a huff she turned and punched one of the six pillows on her bed in the same way she’d wanted to punch Steele when he insisted she needed him to protect her. She reminded herself that she didn’t need Steele any more than she’d ever needed any man in her life. If anyone was gonna save Ravyn, it would be her and that was that.
She spent the next eight hours tossing and turning in the bed trying to figure out how exactly she was going to do that, again.
* * *
Death in dreams meant death in reality. At least in Steele’s dreams it did. Tonight was no different.
He moved along the concrete streets of Burgess. Buildings, tall and short, marked with colored bands of light or addresses affixed somewhere near doorways in flashing colors. He knew this city inside and out. Those lights and colors began to fade as he continued to walk, his steps leading him toward the financial district. It always seemed to be about fifteen degrees colder in this area. He doubted humans ever felt that difference, but he did because it was a magical marker of sorts, indicating a great number of preternaturals resided here.
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The financial district was also known as the home of the vampires. That eerie-looking mansion with the soaring turrets and dark crimson painted door at the end of Cierco Avenue was the home of Chief Lord Hikeen Montoy. Steele had had his first glimpse of that wicked undead creature when he’d visited Theo at the Towers and Shola was taken. That had been the moment Theo decided Shola was his mate. When Theo had walked away from everything he’d built here on the Human Realm to save the woman who’d instigated the fight between the Drakon and the vampires.
With a shake of his head Steele tried to release those thoughts as they were futile. Theo was mated—and in the human world, married—to Shola, regardless of how Steele felt about that union or the one-sided process so many Drakon believed in. And none of that had anything to do with where he was now.
He was being followed.
That wasn’t new. It was the Reaper’s job to follow the Dream Reaper, just as it was the Dream Reaper’s job to lead the Reaper to the next soul on its collection list. Steele never saw names on that list, only snapshots of the death, and with that snapshot he could seek the soul through dreams. That’s how he’d found Ravyn.
But tonight, he was taking the Reaper someplace else, a place he knew Ravyn wouldn’t be.
Twilight was just around the next corner and he moved faster, letting his senses guide him, more so than his mind. He could see golden eyes of vampires peeking from inside dark windows on the buildings he passed, staring at him from inside cars parked on the street and down the alleys, but he barely gave them his attention. If they knew he was here in this dream, they knew why, and were undoubtedly holding their frigid breath in the hope that they weren’t the next name on the list.
Steele turned quickly down the alley behind Twilight, his nostrils flaring as the scent he’d been in search of was found. This fool was as vile in dreams as he’d been that night over a week ago when Steele stopped him from attacking Ravyn. Tonight, he was in the alley with another woman. From the sounds they were making, Steele guessed this woman was much more agreeable than Ravyn had been, a thought that only made his stomach turn because the guy was a foul creep and Steele pitied any woman who dealt with him.