“These cousins of yours can’t provide you with protection?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze. “No.”
“I find it hard to believe they don’t have men to spare for this.”
Oh yes, they had men. Men loyal to them. Men who’d report every little thing she did. Men who were free to make judgments, come up with verdicts, rein her in. Men who would eat her out of house and home when it came to her bakery, but wouldn’t respect her as a businesswoman, because to them, she would be the Camerons’ delicate cousin who needed looking after. Addy. The damaged one. The broken one. The one whom everybody whispered about. Said she had lost her mind.
“I’m sure they do.”
“But you don’t want them.” His head cocked to the side. The sun slipped beneath the brim of his hat, highlighting his eyes. They really were a pretty shade of slate blue. Crisp with a touch of gray like one saw in the winter sky when a storm was approaching.
Dear heavens, the man made her fanciful. “I want someone loyal to me.”
“And you think I fit that bill?”
“I think you’re the best chance I have of finding a man who won’t run when Cole comes riding into town.”
“You’re afraid of Cole?”
“Only of what he’d do to my life with his good intentions.” Her smile felt shaky as she shrugged. “My cousins are a bit overprotective.”
Catching her hand in his, he looked at her broken nails, then he turned it over, revealing the scrape on the palm. “Seems to me they’re not protective enough. If I hadn’t come into town when I did, there would have been nothing left of you but an empty teacup.”
She curled her fingers around his. Her thumb fit naturally into the inside of his knuckle. She left it there. “But you did. Now, you have a debt and I have a need. And what I want to know is, would you like a job?”
Would he like a job? Isaiah blinked as Addy stood there, blue eyes wide and anxious, white teeth biting into her lip, thumb rubbing the inside of his knuckle. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting her to ask. He’d half expected her to ask him to kill someone. That was what most people asked him. Her fingers rubbed harder. As she did with her worry stone, he realized. Except it was him she was clinging to and it was him to whom she was looking for help. The beast growled with satisfaction. The man echoed the sound.
“I’m sorry. It’s too much to ask.”
“No.”
He closed his fingers over hers. When the Reapers had left the darkness, they’d made a vow to stay apart from humans and to do their best to keep whatever part of the world sheltered them safe. The plan had been shortsighted in some ways. They’d assumed no humans would come into their areas. They’d assumed they’d be satisfied with living off the land. But the reality was, it was impossible to stay apart. People kept coming into their regions. Their homes kept getting discovered. And there were comforts that they enjoyed. Comforts that required funding. In short, they needed jobs.
“How much you willing to pay?” He’d do it for free. But if he was going to fake normal, he needed to do it right.
“I don’t know. What’s a fair price?”
For her life, the sky was the limit. “Two dollars a day.”
She gasped and pulled her hand from his. He couldn’t blame her—money was tight after the War and things were just beginning to pick up. But it’d look strange if he didn’t put a decent value on his services. She was the type who’d be suspicious if he didn’t.
“That’s a steep price.” Her hand went to her pocket, back to her worry stone. The beast growled. It wanted her hand back in his. So did he.
“Not from the way I see it. You’re asking me to put my life on the line.”
The fabric of her dress rustled as she dragged her fingers across the stone. “I guess I am.” She looked up again. “Are you any good?”
“You’re standing here unharmed, aren’t you?”
“That is a point.” Which she conceded reluctantly, he could tell. She was looking for a bargaining area. A bit of leverage to wield in their bargain. He had to admire her for that. “Of course, there is the fact that you owe me. That ought to be worth something.”
“How much are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking a dollar a day off the price.”
“That’s steep.”
“But it gets you off the hook.”
It was his turn to concede a good point. “Very true.” Just to needle her a bit, because he liked the glimpses of temper that peeked through her calm, he added, “Are you worth that much?”
She folded her arms across her chest and her eyes flashed in direct challenge. “Are you really that good?”
He bit back a smile. “I’m really that good.”
Every Reaper was. Killing, and the skills necessary to execute it, was the only thing they’d been trained to do. Any memory of civilized behavior they’d learned as boys had been kicked, beaten, and terrorized out of them. They had replaced civilization with a sense of cold, deadly purpose driven only by Their will. Their creators had wanted to be sure that, when the time came to strike the fatal blow, the weapons They had created wouldn’t fail. They had been very skilled, but not entirely successful. In creating the evil They wanted to use, They’d overlooked the one truth that had been born with Adam and Eve. Evil would find a way. And as surely as the serpent had invaded Eden, Isaiah and the others had found their way to freedom.
That battle had been bloody and finite. The one that followed was grueling and ongoing. It had started with the withdrawal from the drug upon which They had made all the Reapers dependent. For weeks the Reapers had battled agony for which the only cure had been destroyed by the Reapers themselves. Some had gone mad and killed themselves. Some had gone mad and needed to be destroyed. The experience had taught them all that just slipping back into the human world and following human laws was not going to be enough for creatures capable of what they were. They needed their own laws to punish those who lost control of their beasts. Those laws had been made. The punishments determined. And the Reapers had dispersed.
It was hard to make a life when they didn’t know what they were, let alone who they were. Without the daily infusion of the drug, fragments of memories started to emerge. Bits and pieces of who they once were. With the knowledge of who they had once been, what they had lost, more Reapers had gone mad. As elected by the other Reapers to a member of the council, it had fallen on Isaiah to judge those who fell prey to the evil within and to permanently relieve the pain of the insane. It was the hardest role he’d ever assumed. Those were the hardest kills he’d ever performed. Each one taking a chunk out of the soul he was trying to build. Each one feeding the doubt that lived within. Would he be the next to lose his mind?
“Well?”
The question brought him out of the past. Addy was standing in front of him, waiting. For an answer, he realized. The tendency to drift into memories made it hard for him to hold conversations. One of the reasons he preferred his solitude. But he was getting better. The time alone had built his control. His fuse wasn’t so hair trigger now. The noise in his brain tended to stay in the background more.
A movement caught his attention. She was drumming her fingers on her arm. She was waiting for an answer. Shit, he couldn’t remember the question.
“I’m waiting.”
Addy’s mouth set in a firm line, the pretty pink color fading to pale at the edges as her eyes narrowed with the anger she was trying to hold back. She was always holding back her emotions as if she feared, if she let them go, something horrible would happen. He knew what that felt like, too. In many ways they were a lot alike. “Do you want the job?”
Oh yes—she wanted to hire him. “You gonna pay me a dollar a day?”
“Yes.”
“I need the first week up front.”
“I don’t have it on me right now.” Her chin came up, pride waving like a banner, daring him to question her integrity. “I was caught a bit unaware.”
&nbs
p; Yes, she had been. “I’ll be wanting it as soon as we get to town.” “That’s understandable.”
“You agreeing?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He took the pelt from around her shoulders. “Are you settled now?”
“What do you mean ‘settled’?”
“Have you addressed all you need to address?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.”
She looked at the hut and back at him. “It’s not even dark.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m tired from lugging you all over the mountain.”
She had the grace to look guilty. “I’m not tired.”
That was a lie. The beast could smell her tiredness. The man could see it. She could barely keep her eyes open. “Then you can lie beside me and listen to the birds sing.”
“I most certainly will not!”
She was nervous about lying down with him. He couldn’t blame her for that, either. Catching her hand, he dragged her along behind him.
“I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice.”
8
OH, MY GOD. HE WAS SERIOUS. ADDY DUG IN HER HEELS AND tugged at the viselike grip Isaiah had around her wrist. “I am not sleeping with you.”
No matter how appealing the thought of having relations with this man was. No matter how strong the dart of excitement that snaked from her head to her toes at the thought of all that muscle pressed up against her. She was not sleeping with him.
Isaiah cut her a glance from under his brows. “Well, I’m not giving you the opportunity to get into more trouble if it occurs to you to strike out on your own.”
“I promise,” she gasped out as he dragged her two more steps, hiding her shiver of arousal under a pretense of struggle. “The thought never entered my head.”
She watched the flex of his buttocks under the leather of his pants. But a lot of other impossibly exciting, highly sexual thoughts had crept in. Between her legs, a sweet ache began.
“Lady, I’ve noticed a lot of wild thoughts pop into your head but never end up discussed.”
How could he know that? “Well, that isn’t one of them.”
But she wished it were. This sudden onset of primal interest was uncomfortable. The foreign strength of temptation unwieldy to control. Especially as the intriguing subtle scent of . . . him . . . teased her nostrils. He smelled so good.
“And you expect me to take your word for that?”
She ducked as he entered the lean-to, trying to force her mind off the breadth of his shoulders and back onto the conversation. “Yes.”
He stopped by the pile of pelts, dropping to the side the one she’d been wearing. “Does this mean you’d be interested in doing something other than sleeping?”
Horror washed through her that he might know her thoughts.
“No!” She took a swing at him. “It does not.”
The blow missed. All her blows, when it came to this man, whether verbal or physical, seemed to have the same problem. She glared at Isaiah and held absolutely still since there was nothing else she could really do. He was bigger than her, meaner than her, and worst of all, more knowledgeable than her about where the hell they were. She curled her fingers into a fist at her side, suppressing the stupid yearning that wanted to be closer to him. But the odds wouldn’t always be on his side.
His gaze dropped to her fist, then moved inward. His nostrils flared. The smile left his face. “Contrary to what you believe, sleeping with you isn’t going to be a picnic for me, either.”
She gasped, suppressing the urge to thrust her hips forward. What was it about this man that set her senses on fire and her principles to the side? She cleared her throat and asked in an almost normal voice, “What do you mean?”
His eyes narrowed and his face took on a sensual edge that hit the backs of her knees like a nudge as he sat on the pile of furs.
“I mean, I need my sleep.” Setting his hat to the side, he started tugging at his boot. “And you look the type to snore.”
How dare he! She clung to the indignation as hard as her gaze clung to the powerful muscles of his thighs. “I most certainly do not.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her while shucking his boots. “How do you know? You stay up nights listening to yourself to make sure?”
She folded her arms across her chest. She knew for a fact that she didn’t snore. Her cousins would have ribbed her unmercifully if she did. They might love her, but that didn’t spare her from their sense of humor. “Ladies do not snore.”
He didn’t look impressed. Instead, he looked even sexier, sitting there on the bedroll like some pagan god readying himself for a night of . . . well, pagan behavior. “Ladies don’t hire Reapers as bodyguards, either, but you don’t seem to have any problem doing that.”
“That’s different. The circumstances are special.”
“Uh-huh.” He started to unbutton his shirt. And he was using both hands. Darn it.
Too late, she realized he’d let go of her. He’d distracted her to the point that she hadn’t noticed he’d released her hand. She eyed all that hard swell of muscle that was revealed as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Her chance for escape was gone. If she’d ever had one. Isaiah was fast. She’d seen that. A top predator when it came to his domain. Another shiver went down her spine. Another button slipped from its hole. The first muscles that cut across the top of his stomach were bared to her greedy gaze. Dear God, she was a wanton. Who would have imagined?
Addy’s mouth went dry. Her knees went a little weaker, and her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to release the next button from its restraint. She wanted to see more of the muscles that slabbed his stomach. Wanted to reach out and touch the rich, tanned warmth of his skin. The anticipation was delicious. Like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It made her wonder what more this man could teach her. What more of life was she missing? She thought of her fiancé, or rather the man she’d selected to be her fiancé. She hadn’t informed him of her interest yet. Matthew was a good steady man with thinning blond hair, a pleasant face, and a stable personality. He was perfect for her plans, but he’d never made her feel like this.
She swept her gaze from the top of Isaiah’s head to his feet, lingering on the handsomeness between. Nothing had ever made her feel like this.
It was disconcerting to realize, at her ripe old age of twenty-five, that she had a lecherous side. It was also disconcerting to realize that she wasn’t repelled by the warm, pulsing knot of feeling growing inside her. In all her life, she’d never fallen in love with a man. Never been particularly attracted to one. For a few years now she’d wondered if there was something wrong with her that she hadn’t. It was exciting to know there wasn’t. It was thrilling that it was this man, at this moment. Because this was possible.
Isaiah caught her eye. She couldn’t control the wild blush that colored her cheeks, or the speculation that entered his gaze when he saw it. He crooked his fingers toward the pelt. “You might as well get comfortable.”
He looked like a pagan god motioning to a vestal virgin. Her breath caught and that warm knot of emotion got hotter. “I’m as comfortable as I intend to get.”
At least until she weighed the pros and cons of what she was contemplating.
“You’re going to have a long cold night then. As soon as that sun sets behind that ridge, the temperature drops.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He shrugged and took the pelt she’d had around her and pulled it over his legs as he stretched out on the bedroll. “Suit yourself. But it does look like rain.”
Despite herself, she looked over her shoulder. It did look like rain. Darn it. Did everything have to go his way all the time? “I’m not afraid of getting wet.” She might not be afraid, but she wasn’t thrilled with the idea. Her clothes still hadn’t fully dried from her last dunking.
“Well, for sure, you’re not made of sugar so
I don’t think we need to worry about you melting.”
Of all the nerve! “I’ll have you know, plenty of people think I’m pretty sweet.”
“They must see you in a different light.”
They did. But it bothered her that he didn’t see her as sweet. Another surprise. She normally was oblivious to people’s opinions of her. Enduring years of rampant speculation had a way of hardening a person to public opinion. But for some reason, this man brought out in her a desire to be seen as womanly. Soft. Delicate. All the things she spent her life convincing her cousins that she wasn’t.
Isaiah groaned under his breath as he stretched out on the pelts, his big body looking unreasonably comfortable against the fur. That intriguing scent that was uniquely his filled the interior, teasing her nostrils, tempting her into another breath. His mouth relaxed into a sensual fullness that had her tongue sliding over her lips as she imagined how his would feel against hers. She bit back a “stop” as he pulled his hat over his face, depriving her of the fantasy as he relaxed into the pleasure.
She knew for a fact that his bed wasn’t that comfortable, but watching him shift and hearing his whispered sigh of relief, she found her own muscles moaning in longing. And suddenly that sense of propriety that had her standing on her aching feet, six feet away from Isaiah and the comparative comfort of the bed, didn’t seem at all appropriate. A stray gust of wind blew into the lean-to, heralding the evening’s chill. Addy rubbed her arms. And eyed Isaiah again. Pressed up against his side as she’d have to be to share the bedroll, she’d be warm.
“The offer’s still open.”
The invitation, uttered in Isaiah’s rumbling drawl, slipped like a secret smile from behind his hat, sneaking past her guard and snuggling up to that part of her she’d thought missing. The womanly part that went weak for a man. The part of her that wanted to do more than sleep with him. The part of her that wanted to lie down beside him and slide her fingers under the lapels of his shirt and test the texture of his skin.
The offer’s still open.
She was crazy to consider what she was considering. Isaiah was wild. He was dangerous and he radiated a potent magnetism. In short, he was everything from which her cousins strove to protect her. And maybe that’s what made him so irresistible. The strip of pelt on his right side beckoned. The hollow of his shoulder encouraged. The heat of his body lured. And past her well-cultivated sense of propriety came the thought, What is the harm if I explore the temptation he presents? What is there to lose?
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