Dark Kiss Of The Reaper

by Kristen Painter

“You’d rather have the ice cream?” Before she could answer, he yanked his sweater over his head.

  Her eyes widened and she inhaled, mouthing a silent wow.

  Taking that as a good sign, he dipped his finger into the puddle of melted ice cream in his bowl, then trailed it down his chest.

  She whimpered softly, a needy, hungry sound. “You have the devil in you.”

  He beckoned with his finger. “Maybe you can teach me to behave.”

  “I doubt it.” Pushing onto her knees, she scooted toward him. “But I’m willing to try.”

  She bent her head to the line of ice cream and cleaned it off his chest with a single pass of her silky tongue. The sensation sucked the breath from his lungs. She sat back with a satisfied grin and surveyed her work. “I’ve never seen a body like yours in person.”

  “And?” It almost embarrassed him how badly he needed to know her opinion of him.

  She flattened her palms on his chest, splaying her fingers against his skin. His body tightened, honing his nerves to focus on the points of contact. Her scent enveloped him. He was her servant at that moment, lost to any existence but pleasing her.

  “And...” A coy smile, at odds with her actions, lit her beautiful face. “I like it. Very much. Like touching it. All that hard muscle and soft, warm skin.”

  Straddling his body, she settled into his lap. His hands rested loosely on her hips in hopes she wouldn’t notice his trembling. What was greater than want? More powerful than need? Whatever it was, he felt it.

  “Am I in any danger of unleashing that other side of you?” she asked, pushing him back onto the sofa.

  “No.” Desire thickened his words. “Not while I’m in human form.”

  “Good.” She picked up one of the ice cream bowls and tipped it, drizzling a line of cream down his stomach. The cold liquid did nothing to cool his feverish skin. Her mouth followed, licking and nibbling at the sticky sweetness. If she couldn’t feel what she was doing to him, she must be numb from the neck down.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up, sliding her over the remaining slick of melted ice cream.

  “Hey, my blouse—”

  “I’ll buy you a new one.” The time for words was over. He crushed her mouth with a savage kiss. One hand griped the back of her neck, buried beneath the silk of her hair. The other found the small of her back and pressed her hips into his. There should be no question in her mind as to what effect she had on him now.

  She groaned low in her throat. Her body rocked against his hard length. He trailed kisses down the column of her neck, causing her to moan again.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for this...” she whispered, her breath coming in long draws.

  “I won’t leave you,” he breathed against her raspberry-scent skin. “I give you my word. I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never want for anything ever again, my sweet Sara.”

  She stiffened in his arms. Pulled away. “I didn’t agree to anything. I don’t need to be taken care of.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  The firmness of her tone cooled his body where her warm length had been pressed. Desire, need, hunger...it surged, looking for a way out. A release. But there would be none. She didn’t want him the way he wanted her. Humiliation took control of his tongue. “Look around. I could offer you so much more than this.”

  He stood, thankful the result of their heated actions had already begun to recede. “I don’t know what’s wrong with wanting to take care of you. With wanting to make your life better.”

  “My life is fine.” She shook her head, eyes bright. “I won’t be controlled by another man. I won’t.”

  “I don’t want to control you.” If all mortal women responded to sincere gestures like this, he could better understand why his brothers didn’t get involved. “I want to take care of you.”

  “I don’t need to be taken care of.” Her mouth thinned to a fine line. “Not by you or anybody else.”

  “You didn’t mind my help with your ex-husband.”

  She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them. “Maybe you should go.”

  He spread his arms. “Sara, please. Why can’t you understand what I’m trying to do?” How had this gone so wrong?

  “I understand perfectly. That’s why I got divorced in the first place.”

  “I’m nothing like him. Nothing.” His insides shattered. He didn’t care if he had to plead. He needed her. This stubborn, beautiful woman couldn’t see she already owned his heart.

  She shook her head and spoke without looking at him. “Maybe you aren’t, but that’s a chance I’m not willing to take.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “There are no threads,” Atropos said, holding her empty hands up for him to see.

  Azrael wanted to curse the old woman’s tricks, but kept his tongue. In a week’s time, there’d been far too few souls to reap lately. For him anyway. Kol and Chronos had been busy enough they’d had little time to speak with him. And so he’d spent nearly every moment missing Sara. Wanting to talk to her, but not knowing what to say. Wanting to explain, but not knowing how.

  She’d told him to leave. He doubted she would welcome him back. Stubborn, thickheaded, beautiful woman.

  “Then cut some,” he growled. “There must be need.” He glared at Klotho and Lachesis. They quickly bowed their heads back to their work.

  “There isn’t.” Atropos polished her shears with a scrap of silk. She admired her reflection in their brilliant finish. “If you miss her, go to her.”

  “It isn’t that simple.” He paced the limestone balcony. All the sweet-scented breezes and trickling water in the world couldn’t soothe him today.

  “Of course it is,” she countered. “That is the way of love.”

  He whipped back, care for his behavior gone. “What would you know of love, old woman?”

  Her cackle bit into his skin. “I know that you are in it.”

  Klotho covered her mouth too late to hide her smile and Lachesis’s laugh sharpened into a cough.

  He stared at the pair. “It comforts me to know you find such amusement in the chaos you’ve helped create.”

  Lachesis returned his gaze, wide-eyed and full of surprise. “That we’ve helped create?” She clucked her tongue. “No one put words in your mouth or feelings in your heart. You did that yourself.”

  “Poor Azrael,” Klotho cooed. “You should go to her. Offer her a gift...mortal women love gifts.”

  His scowl erased her smile. “Not this one.”

  “Does she still wear your amulet?” Klotho asked.

  “How would I know?” He exhaled hard. “I haven’t seen her in a week.”

  Klotho shrugged and went back to her spinning. “If it still hangs about her neck, I would think that a good sign.”

  “A very good sign,” Lachesis interrupted. “You should visit her. See for yourself.”

  “No. Not without reason.” He wouldn’t crawl to her like some lovesick boy. Not unless he had to. Which he might.

  Lachesis beckoned to Atropos. “Come look at this thread.” She held one against her staff, tipping her head in study.

  Atropos made her way over. She tipped her head as well, tapping a gnarled finger on her whiskered chin. “Hmm. You have a good eye, Lachesis.”

  She pulled her shears free of their pouch, snipped the thread, then turned to dangle it in his direction.

  “Here.” She held it out. “Go.”

  * * *

  Stupid.

  Sara slammed the file drawer shut. She’d been stupid. Hung up on her past. All because that idiot Ray had rattled her cage. It wasn’t possible to hate anyone more than she hated him. Although she wasn’t very happy with herself at the moment.

  An entire week had gone by without even the briefest glimpse of Azrael at the hospital. She hadn’t expected a phone call or email, but the way he’d disappeared...or maybe he had been there and she could
no longer see him. The thought tightened her throat, brought heat to her eyes. She clutched the silver wings at the hollow of her throat. Holding that reminder of him soothed her a little.

  Worst of all, she had no way to contact him. No way to apologize or make him understand about her past and the way Ray had warped her mind.

  Where are you, Azrael? Just show up and I’ll apologize until I’m blue.

  The man had offered to buy her a place to live, no strings attached, and she’d told him to get out. What woman in her right mind turned down an offer like that from a guy whose kisses made her see fireworks? And even if there had been strings, she’d been ready to sleep with him that night. What other strings could there be?

  She threw the files down and slumped into the desk chair. There had to be a way to find him or get a message to him. Something. Anything. Sighing, she propped her elbows on the desk and leaned her forehead on the heels of her palms. Think, think, think.

  Maybe Azrael was avoiding her, but that didn’t mean his brothers were. She rested her chin on her fists. She needed to find someone right as they were about to die. As morbid as that was, it might be her only chance.

  This was a hospital, how hard to could that be? Her first thought was the morgue, but at that point, it was already too late. She bounced her thumbs off her jaw. Where...to...go.

  She sat up. Twisted around.

  “Dane. Hey. Dane.”

  He looked up from a chart. “Yeah? What’s the emergency?”

  She grinned, jumped out of her chair. “Exactly. Taking a break. Back in a few.”

  “Hey, you can’t...”

  But she was halfway down the hall.

  Busy described the emergency room, but there were many words that worked better. Chaotic. Noisy. Scary. A person didn’t end up here because they were in perfect working order. This was exactly where she needed to be. She scanned the crowded waiting room. Nothing.

  The hospital badge hanging from the lanyard around her neck made her invisible to the staff bustling from one area to another. She slipped through the doors beyond the waiting room with some medical personal.

  Here the beds were portioned off with curtains only, no walls like the rooms up stairs. This was serious business. There was no time for true privacy when lives were on the line.

  She shuffled past the thin, drawn curtains, listening, trying to catch a peek between the joins of fabric. A nurse rushed past, yelling commands for medication Sara didn’t completely understand, but the woman’s tone conveyed enough meaning.

  Someone was in critical condition.

  Sara headed in the direction the nurse had come from, toward the next room of beds. She rounded the doorway and stopped cold as fear sucked the breath from her lungs.

  Kol from a distance was nothing compared to Kol less than ten feet away.

  Tight-lipped, he leaned against the wall near the bed of a twenty-something man, a gang-banger if the street-style tattoos and shaved head meant anything. Doctors and nurses worked frantically to keep the man from bleeding out from a gunshot wound.

  Sara stepped back thinking Kol had come toward her, but then she realized it was his voluminous black leather coat moving of its own volition, shifting subtlety like the coils of a snake.

  His lanky black hair swept his collar and trailed past his shoulders. At his temple swung a single braid knotted through a small bead that looked very much like a knucklebone.

  As tall as Azrael, he was less broad, more sinewy. Where Azrael was sculpted, Kol was angles. Everything about him looked hard, angry. Ready to fight. A junkyard dog that’d gone too many days without a meal.

  Sara shivered. This was a bad idea. She retreated, hoping the eyes behind those dark glasses were focused on the dying man.

  Kol’s head lifted half an inch.

  “Come to see how the other third lives, sweetheart?”

  In his derisive tone, the term of endearment sounded more like a curse. Her feet froze to the floor. She shook her head, swallowed hard.

  “Am...am I the only one who sees you?” she whispered.

  “Do you see anybody freaking out? Mortals only see me when I want them to. Except for you.”

  “Oh. Good.” She kept her voice down. Not that anyone would really notice her talking to herself in the chaos of the ER.

  “Yeah, it’s freaking fabulous.” Kol crossed his arms, the seams of his coat weeping what looked like tears.

  “I was...wondering...if you knew where—”

  His gaze still aimed at the soul to be reaped, he lifted a finger and pointed to the expiring man. “Meth dealer. Two weeks of nightmares. Nothing.” He shrugged. “Idiot mortal.”

  She had no clue what Kol was talking about, but as long as he wasn’t focused on her, she was okay. Scared witless, but okay.

  “Favorite haunt was North Franklin Middle School.” He turned his head in her direction. Thankfully, the glasses stayed put. He shook his head slowly. “Can’t have that, now can we?”

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “N-no,” she whispered.

  “We’re losing him,” one of the doctors called out.

  “Be right with you, dollface. Little matter to take care of first.” He peeled off the wall with the soft, sticky sound of damp leather being stripped from heavily painted concrete block and walked toward the bed. Halfway, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “You might not want to watch this. Or whatever.”

  She didn’t want to watch, especially after being warned, but she couldn’t look away. And since her vantage point didn’t give her a straight on view of his eyes, she felt like she’d be safe. Mostly.

  Kol spread his arms. His coat billowed into black wings. He had no scythe this time, something Sara didn’t know if she should be grateful for or not.

  As Kol approached the bed the man began to moan. If the doctors and nurses heard it, they didn’t react. Kol went closer and the moans rose into terrified shrieks.

  “More plasma, stat! We need an OR now!” The medical team kept working, struggling to save a life, oblivious to the scene playing out in front of them.

  Kol hovered at the head of the bed. He ripped his shades off. “Your time is up, dirtbag.”

  Fathomless black holes stared into the dying man. The shriek became one long keening wail that pierced her head and made her joints ache. Black ooze flowed out of the man. Sara shut her eyes, unable to watch any further.

  The sound disappeared. She opened her eyes. The medical staff was at rest, no longer trying to save the man.

  “Call it.” One of the doctors checked his watch and pronounced the death. Kol had disappeared.

  “Looking to come to the dark side?”

  She jumped and spun around. He wasn’t gone, he was right behind her. Fortunately, his shades were in place. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Another job well done.” He grinned. “And yes, I’m free tonight if that answers your question.” He tipped his head. “But only one night. You’re cute, but I bore easily.”

  Pig. She ignored him. “Do they always scream like that?” She snuck a peek at the man whose soul Kol had just reaped. A nurse prepped the body for the morgue.

  “You heard that?” Kol stood a little straighter, his brows drawing together in question.

  “Yes. It was awful.”

  “Do you still hear it?” He leaned closer.

  She pulled back. “No. Does that mean you do?”

  His curious expression morphed into a hard mask of anger and disgust. He looked away, putting an end to her questions. “What do you want? I have work to do.”

  “I need to get a message to Azrael.”

  Kol’s head swiveled back in her direction. He licked his finger and held it up, testing some non-existent wind.

  “Looks like you’re in luck, sweetcheeks.”

  * * *

  Little noise disturbed the peace of the cancer ward. A few nurses talking, the sound of a cart being wheeled through the hall. Not much else. The thread in
Azrael’s pocket would be a small ripple in the pond, enough to clear the nurse’s station.

  And he could find Sara. Talk to her. Smooth things.

  He hoped.

  The soul in need belonged to a middle-aged man suffering from lymphoma. Azrael slipped into the man’s room, released his soul and returned to the hall. Within minutes a nurse came to the room.

  He made his way toward the desk. Would Sara smile when she saw him? Frown? Ignore him? What if she couldn’t see him anymore? No. He wouldn’t think about that possibility.

  Rounding the corner brought him up short. She wasn’t there. He checked the visitor’s room. Not there either, so he went back and waited near the desk. Minutes ticked by. Still no Sara.

  Since no one could see him, including the male nurse sitting where Sara usually sat, Azrael went behind the desk and into the office to look for a schedule. As best as he could tell, she was supposed to be here.

  He had no choice but to change forms. An unlocked supply closet served to give him privacy. Wouldn’t do to have some one see him appear in the middle of the hall. Putting his ear to the door, he listened for footsteps, heard nothing. Satisfied with the quiet, he opened the door a crack and checked the hall. No one.

  He looked in both directions before slipping out. All clear. Adopting a confident air, he strode back to the desk. The male nurse glanced up as Azrael approached.

  “Can you help me? I’m looking for someone.” Azrael kept a friendly smile on his face.

  The nurse—Dane according to his hospital badge—shook his head. “Visiting hours are over. I don’t know how you got up here, but you’re going to have to leave.”

  “I’m not here to see a patient. The woman I’m looking for works here. Sara Donovan?”

  Dane leaned back and crossed his arms. “What do you need to see her about?”

  “It’s personal,” Azrael answered, hoping his tone shut the door on that line of questioning.

  Dane cracked a know-it-all grin. “You the guy she’s been moping about all week?”

  “She’s been moping?” That was a good sign.

  “Yeah. Been a real bear to work with, too.” Dane leaned forward. “Look, it’s none of my business but—”