Reaper Uninvited: Deadside Reapers book 2

by Cassidy, Debbie

  I sat at my dresser and laced up my boots. At least the reaper team was okay. Sariah had messaged to say they were on patrol again in two days but on the south side this time. Dayna messaged back to say she’d spoken to Aunt Lara, and all was good at Deadside. Still, I needed to make up for my not being able to stay the other day. I needed to keep my connection with Deadside juiced up. There was no doubt in my mind that the power of Deadside had given me an edge when fighting the vamps the other day.

  Iza entered the room in a whirlwind of excitement. She’d been like a ghost the last few days, or maybe it was me that had been absent. Either way, my heart lifted at the sight of her smiling face.

  “Cora said you’re headed to the tavern tonight?”

  I nodded. “You want to come?”

  She smiled shyly at me. “I was hoping you’d ask. I can come as your companion.”

  “You can come as my friend.”

  There was something different about her today. A flush to her skin, a brightness to her eyes. Wait a fucking second. “Iza … are you in love?”

  “Who’s in love?” Cor asked as she entered the room.

  I stared at her solid form. “Cor …”

  She wagged a finger at me. “Nope. Love first. And nice outfit.” She flopped on the bed with her completely solid form. “So, who’s in love?”

  I tore my gaze from her and back to Iza, who was standing with her hands clasped in front of her. “We met at the market a few times. He works at the tavern.”

  “In that case, we can’t wait to meet him,” Cora said.

  There was a knock on the door, and then Mal’s voice drifted through the wood. “Dominus meeting in the lounge. Now.”

  My stomach quivered at the thought of facing Conah again, but I took a deep breath. I contemplated changing back into my joggers and T-shirt, but fuck it, I felt pretty, and I liked it.

  I looked at Cora. “We’ll talk about this”—I indicated her solid form—“later over a bevvy at the tavern.”

  Her eyes widened. “Fee … do you think … do you think I can eat and drink?”

  I froze, and we locked eyes. “I don’t see why not?”

  Cora’s face broke into a grin. “Iza, babe. I’m gonna need you to make me a sandwich, a huge fuck-off sandwich.”

  * * *

  The lounge drapes were shut, blocking out the mid-morning sunlight. The fire was lit, and the lamps were on. I’d never seen the lounge like this in the daytime. The drapes were usually open and secured with ties to allow sunlight to bathe the room in buttery light.

  I spotted Conah to my left by the drinks cabinet. My gaze dropped to his hands. He was clutching a mug. The same mug he’d grabbed in the kitchen.

  Mal was lounging on the sofa in a relaxed pose, eyes half-closed, legs splayed, one hand resting on his bare abdomen because, of course, as usual, he wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes. Azazel sat forward on the single-seater sofa, the bars of his forearms braced on his thighs. His hair was loose and damp from the shower, but he’d tucked it behind his ears.

  He was the first to look up at me. He raked me over, and his mouth tightened slightly, but not before I caught a flash of heat in the silvery depths of his eyes.

  Mal spotted me next, and his brows went up slightly before his mouth curled in his signature lopsided smile. “Well, hello, sexy. If I’d known we were dressing up for the meeting, I’d have put on a shirt.”

  Conah looked me up and down for a little longer than necessary. His gaze lingered on my bare shoulders and the column of my neck.

  “Is this the new Dominus?”

  I jumped as a fourth figure stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the room. His eyes were covered by dark round spectacles, and his skin was so pale it had to be bloodless. His hair was so dark it looked like the tousled strands were slicing into his pale forehead. He was tall and thin with cheekbones that looked like they were attempting to take over his face.

  “Kristoff, this is Seraphina,” Conah said.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Seraphina,” Kristoff said.

  His voice made my skin crawl and my scalp prick. “Who are you?” I shook my head. “Let me rephrase that. What are you?”

  “Fee …” Conah admonished.

  I ignored him and kept my attention on Kristoff.

  “Direct,” Kristoff said. “I like that.” He reached up and slid his spectacles off his nose.

  Dark pits stared back at me. Dark pits that screamed vampire.

  I took a step back. “What the fuck?”

  “Kristoff is on our side,” Conah said.

  “As much as a vampire can be,” Mal drawled. He gave Kristoff a humorless smile. “No offense, Kristoff.”

  “None taken,” Kristoff said. He put his glasses back on. “I am a vampire, but not by choice. I was turned half a century ago. Before that, I was a witch.”

  “I didn’t know witches could be turned.”

  “Any creature can be turned if it possesses the appropriate trigger in its blood,” Kristoff said. “I was unlucky, but I refuse to be ruled by bloodlust.”

  “Kristoff has been an Underealm liaison for decades,” Conah explained. “He works for us.”

  “With you,” Kristoff corrected.

  Conah inclined his head. “Of course.”

  “And I have information.”

  “You’ve been tracking the Dread that attacked the Academy.” I looked from Kristoff to Conah and back. “Haven’t you?”

  His smile was thin and cool. “Correct. I have reason to believe that they will be congregating in two days’ time, and I have a location.”

  Conah set down his mug, and even Mal sat up with interest.

  “How reliable is your information?” Azazel asked.

  Kristoff fixed his spectacled gaze on him. “As reliable as always.”

  Azazel nodded.

  “Even though you refuse to share your sources,” Mal said slyly.

  Kristoff let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”

  “Where?” Conah asked.

  “The industrial estate on the borders of westside Necro. I’ll text you the coordinates. I’m not sure which building, though.”

  “We’ll find it,” Azazel said.

  “In that case”—Kristoff gave me a mock bow—“Conah, you may drop me home.”

  Conah walked over to Kristoff, clasped his hand, and the two vanished.

  I stared at the spot where they’d just been. That was it? He’d come here to tell us that? I mean, it was monumental information, but he could have texted Conah with it. Why come all the way here and have a meeting? Oh … The penny dropped.

  I turned to the guys, hands on hips. “You wanted me to feel involved, didn’t you?”

  Azazel snorted. “I told you she wasn’t stupid.”

  “Never said she was,” Mal replied. “Conah and his idiotic gestures.” He canted his head and shrugged. “He’s trying to make it up to you.”

  With a token meeting that didn’t need to happen. But yeah, I appreciated the gesture. Still … “It’ll take more than one meeting to do that.”

  Azazel stood and headed out of the room. “I have meetings of my own.”

  Outlier meetings? “Wait.”

  He stopped in the doorway.

  “Can I come with you?”

  He blinked at me in surprise.

  I shrugged. “About time I saw what you guys get up to.”

  Mal slowly unfurled his body from the sofa. “Take her with you, Az.”

  Azazel looked me up and down again. “Go put your reaper gear on. Pinnacle in twenty.” He strode off.

  Mal blew out a whistle. “Shit, I was expecting more of a fight.”

  “Why?”

  “Azazel’s a solo kinda guy, unlike me.”

  He padded over to me, looking, for all intents and purposes, like a pantherine predator. I resisted the urge to back up. This was Mal. Play-around, talk-smack Mal. So, why was my tummy fluttering? It was
that damn chest. That bare six-pack begging to be caressed.

  He stepped into my personal space and hooked a finger under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “It’s my turn next time.” He swept his tongue across his bottom lip and dropped his emerald gaze to my mouth. He leaned in, so our faces were an inch apart. “Next time, I get to show you my world.”

  My mouth parted, blood rushing to my lips, making them throb and ache for him to close the distance between us. Tingles rushed up my shoulders and the sides of my neck, settling just below my ears.

  “Stop it.” My voice was a whisper.

  “Stop what?”

  “The suggestion shit.”

  His mouth hooked up slightly. “I’m not doing anything, Fee. This is all you.” And then he kissed me, claiming my bottom lip as if it was a succulent treat, sucking gently on it, then moving onto my top lip with just as much diligence. “You should stop me,” he said between kisses. “You should push me away.”

  Yes. I should, but instead, I was running my hands up his chest to hook around his neck. Instead, I pulled him closer.

  “Fuck.” He groaned. He gripped my nape and forced my head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept into my mouth in sweet invasion, licking me out in a way that had me squeezing my thighs together against the desperate aching pulse. Our mouths slid against each other, hungrier by the second. My breasts squashed against his chest, and his erection pressed to my abdomen.

  I wanted more. I needed more. I needed him to fuck me. Oh, fuck. What was I doing? I pulled away with a ragged gasp and pressed a hand to my mouth, which still carried the imprint of his.

  Mal reached for me, but then slowly lowered his hands. His eyes were dark and ravenous. Desire was stamped all over his beautiful face, and then he smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Took you long enough, Fee,” he said. “I thought I’d have my cock in you before you backed off.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks.

  He shrugged. “Maybe next time, eh?” He dropped me a wink and then walked around me and out of the room.

  The bastard. The total fucking wanker.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I had reaper gear. Iza had added it to my wardrobe, and I hadn’t even noticed, but I was wearing it, and I felt kick-ass in it. Shame it didn’t give me longer legs so I could keep up with Azazel.

  “I know what it is.” I jogged to stay abreast of him. “You have a rocket up your ass.”

  “You’re too slow,” he replied.

  “My legs aren’t as long as yours.”

  He conceded by shortening the length of his stride.

  It was almost sunset here in Necro. The streets were less busy as the city transitioned from work to play.

  I had no idea where we were headed. Azazel had taken a river to a spot behind a mall, and we’d walked from there. Having said that, this street looked familiar, and then I spotted why. Lumiers sat on the corner, lit up against the dying light.

  “Are we going to Lumiers?”

  Azazel answered by striding across the street toward the building.

  What was his problem? He’d agreed to let me tag along, and now he was acting all standoffish and dickish. We stepped onto the pavement, and I grabbed hold of his arm.

  “Hey.”

  He stopped and stared at me. No, glared at me.

  I flinched. “What is your problem? You agreed to let me come with you, and now you’re acting like a dick.”

  His jaw stuck out mulishly for a second, and then he turned his head to the side and closed his eyes briefly. “Mal can’t give you what you want, Fee.” His tone was so soft it stunned me.

  “What?”

  “You’re smarter than that.”

  “I don’t know what you … Oh …” Could he smell Mal on me? “Azazel, there is nothing going on between Mal and me. I mean nothing serious.”

  “It doesn’t take long for not serious to become more, and Mal …” He smiled wryly. “It’s impossible not to love Mal.” He said it fondly. “But he has his own demons, and those demons will not be kind to you.”

  “You mean the fact that he’s cursed?”

  Azazel looked surprised. “He told you about that?”

  “He told me he was cursed to feed off sex. I mean, it explains why he has so many women …”

  “What else did he tell you?” Azazel asked.

  “Nothing … wait. There’s more?”

  Azazel tipped back his head and sighed. “Yes, there’s more, and if Mal wants to share that with you, he will, but my advice … Shield your heart.”

  The look he gave me was pure pity, and then he pushed open the door and ushered me inside.

  Shield my heart? I wasn’t falling for Mal or anything. It wasn’t like that, but then the delicious aroma of freshly ground coffee beans hit me, and I lost my train of thought. This was sex for my olfactory system. Throw in a little cinnamon, and I was mentally writhing on the floor.

  “Fee.” Azazel frowned at me.

  “One moment.” I took another whiff and then followed him across the room. The place was emptier than the last time I’d been here, but pink lady was behind the counter, grinning at me. No. Not at me, at Azazel. She tipped her face up and fluttered her lashes.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said.

  “Leana. Is my room ready?” he asked.

  “Always. And the offer of company is still on the table too.”

  It was obvious from her tone that by company, she meant sex.

  He chuckled. “I appreciate that.”

  She finally looked at me and winked. “The usual?”

  I’d only been here once, but what the hell. “Please.”

  “I’ll bring it through,” Leana said.

  I followed Azazel’s leather-clad back up the stairs and into a room that held a desk and several chairs.

  He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair behind the desk.

  “How does it work?” I indicated the jacket. “Your wings … there aren’t any slits in the jacket.”

  “Wings are not physical in the same way as our bodies. They exist on a parallel plane that we’re connected to, and therefore can be visible or not depending on will. Clothes don’t matter.” He indicated the chair by the window. “Sit. Observe. Do not speak.”

  I folded myself into the chair. At least the seat was padded. “So, what do you do here, exactly.”

  “Necro is a network of factions. Outlier species are varied. Allegiances are varied. And then there are those that ally to no faction. Independent witches, rogue warlocks, and Loup.”

  “Why rogue? I mean, if the witches can be independent, why are warlocks called rogues?”

  “The covens are a little more tolerant than the warlock factions and Loup packs. But even the independent witches pay a price. They lose their connection to the coven power and need to employ other methods to do magic.”

  “Such as?”

  His jaw tensed. “Blood, sex, and pain. They draw power from those.”

  “Sounds peachy.”

  “A long time ago, there was war and bloodshed among the outliers. Humanity was threatened by the overspill. The Underealm stepped in and negotiated peace. Necro is simply one of several hubs where I operate to ensure the outliers remain pacified and that their conflicts remain hidden from the human world.”

  “Because we protect humanity?”

  “We always have,” he said.

  “Why?” I was genuinely curious why the Underealm gave a shit.

  “Because it’s part of our treaty with the celestials. Part of the ceasefire that keeps the balance between the Beyond and the Underealm.”

  “So, we’re basically the celestials’ bitches?”

  He gave a surprised snort but didn’t deny it.

  Leana entered carrying a tray. Her hips swayed as she moved, totally deliberate I’d say, and had she applied lip gloss?

  Azazel smiled warmly at her as she set the tray on
the desk. Two mochas and a cinnamon bun.

  “I’m sorry, that’s the last bun,” she said. “I have a batch cooking, but it will be another half hour.”

  Azazel’s gaze flicked up to me. “You like these too?”

  Too?

  It was Leana who answered. “You seem to share similar tastes.” She sashayed out, and something flicked across the floor behind her. Pink with an arrowhead tip. A tail.

  She had a tail.

  I waited till she was gone. “What is she?”

  Azazel pushed the tray across the desk. “A beautiful anomaly.”

  He said it fondly. He was fond of her. Something flickered in my chest, and the mark above my breast itched.

  I picked up my mug and then reclaimed my seat. “You guys seem to be pretty comfortable around each other.”

  Fine, I wanted to know if they’d banged. No idea why it mattered. Hell, it didn’t matter, I was just making small talk.

  “Leana is under my protection,” Azazel said. “Not that she requires it. It’s a long story. Maybe I will tell you sometime.”

  Why did the thought of him sharing his story with me make me feel all gooey?

  He held out the plate with the bun on it. “Take it.”

  I plucked it from the plate, tore it in half, and handed him a piece. “We can share it.”

  Our gazes met, and gentle warmth unfurled in my chest. He took the offered half of the bun and, holding my gaze, took a bite. I did the same. We ate, gazes locked in a strangely compelling and intimate moment.

  A rap on the door broke the spell. Azazel sat back in his seat and turned to the entrance. “Come in.”

  A three-foot-tall man strode in, his ruddy cheeks quivering with suppressed indignation. I caught Azazel stifle a long-suffering sigh.

  “What can I do for you, Huck,” he said calmly.

  “Well, ya can stop those fecking piskies from urinating all over me crops, that’s wha ya can doo.”

  What the fuck was that accent? Some kind of outlier dialect no doubt, and from the studying I’d done in the quarters’ library, this dude was definitely fae, a hobbit maybe?

  “An who the feck is that?” He jerked a thumb my way.