by Larissa Ione
The accusing glares of everyone in the room shriveled Reaver’s heart. There were very few people Reaver cared about disappointing, and those here happened to be the few. “I didn’t know about Wormwood until just before Logan’s birth. I only had a few moments to make a choice about giving it to you, and I chose Reseph’s life. He isn’t a threat to you. His memory is gone.”
“Damn you, Reaver,” Thanatos croaked, the rare emotion in his voice shredding Reaver’s insides. He hated to see any of these warriors hurt, and knowing he was at least in part responsible only made it worse. “Damn you.”
Ares swore in disgust. “Take him back to Sheoul-gra.”
Reaver understood Ares’s anger, but dammit, Reaver had made a decision, and he had to stand by what he believed was best. “A, you don’t order your Watcher, or any angel, around. B, we need him whole. He won’t heal if I send him back.”
Limos cast a worried glance at Arik. “What does this mean for Arik’s soul? We thought that with Pestilence dead, it had reverted to Arik. Can Reseph give it back?”
“No.” It had been a long time since Reaver had willingly taken a drink of anything stronger than wine, but right now he could use a gallon-sized shot of tequila. “Only Pestilence can release his soul, and if he takes over again, he could release it into Sheoul out of spite.”
“Meaning?” That from Arik, who looked a little green around the gills.
“Meaning that when you do die, you’re doomed to Sheoul.”
“Oh, good,” Arik said. “Because I didn’t get enough torture the first time around.”
“This is so fucked up,” Thanatos snarled. “We have to move on this. We can’t just sit around and wait for Reseph to get better in a thousand years.”
Arik cleared his throat. “Um… you need to do something.” He was staring at his cell phone. “I just got a message from Decker. He’s got a spy inside The Aegis, and it looks like they’re onto us. They’re sending a team to Bardsley.”
“Fuck.” Limos hurled a juiced lime into the garbage so hard it bounced back out. “That can only end badly.”
Arik shoved the phone in his BDU pants pocket. “We’ve got to get Reseph before they do.”
“Typical day with the Horsemen.” Kynan scrubbed his hands over his face. “Things with you guys only go from bad to worse.”
“No,” Reaver said softly. “I don’t think we’ve begun to see worse yet. Not even close.”
“What does that mean?” Limos asked.
Closing his eyes, Reaver braced himself. When he lifted his lids, hard eyes stared back at him. “Gethel knows he’s free. She’s got Soulshredders hunting for him.”
“And if she finds him…” Arik prompted.
“If she finds him, she can bring out Pestilence,” Reaver said. “And if you think he was angry before, imagine how pissed off he’s going to be this time around.”
Seventeen
“Jillian Cardiff. It’s about time you got out of that lonely cabin.”
She looked up and nearly groaned at the sight of the dark-haired man standing next to her chair. Figured that out of all the country music bars in Bardsley, she and Reseph would come to the one Trey Yates and his thugs were haunting tonight.
“Good to see you, Trey. It’s been a while.” Not long enough. He’d dated Stacey for a couple of months and then dumped her for a newly single cougar on the prowl. “Still seeing Charlene?”
The live band got the dance floor moving with a Garth Brooks song as Trey chugged his beer. “Nah. She was wanting a new daddy for her brats.”
Well, yeah. A blind man could have seen that coming. “How’s the ranching business?” she asked, but only to be polite. Mostly, she kept her eye on Reseph, who had gone up to the bar for a couple of beers. Seemed like there was a sudden rush of women who just happened to need fresh drinks as well. “Last I heard, you were venturing into bison.”
He burped. Didn’t excuse himself. “Didn’t work out. I’m back to sheep.”
No doubt sheep were easier for him to bully. He’d been a total ass in high school, and according to Stacey, not a lot had changed. Why Stace had dated him for as long as she had, Jillian had no idea. Then again, he’d apparently put on a good front and the best of appearances for a while. It wasn’t until shortly before he dumped her that his true colors began to show.
Trey jerked his chin toward the stage. “What do you think of the band?”
“They’re okay. Why?”
His grin was so damned smug that she wanted to smack him. Funny how, when Reseph got cocky, it worked. On Trey it only looked sad and pathetic.
“I hang out with them,” Trey said. “Belt out a song now and then. You should stick around, and maybe I’ll sing something just for you.”
Same old braggart he’d always been. Some things never changed. “I doubt we’ll be here long, but thanks.”
Trey never had taken rejection well, and his mouth twisted as he tipped his bottle toward Reseph. “I hear he’s new in town. Has some sort of mental problems. Why would you shack up with someone like that?”
She gave him a tight smile. “That’s none of your business.”
His belligerent snort told her what he thought of her answer. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“Yes,” came the deep, rumbling voice from behind her, and Jesus, how had he moved away from the bar so fast? “I’m hers.” Reseph’s tone, his words, made her all shivery inside.
Trey made a point of sizing up Reseph, dragging his gaze from his face to his feet and back again. “I’m Trey. And you are…?”
“Intolerant of jackasses who fuck with my female.”
Trey had been in the middle of guzzling his beer, and now he slowly lowered the bottle from his mouth. “I don’t think you know who you’re talking to, Amnesia Boy.”
Oh, shit. Jillian shoved to her feet and stepped between the two men. Trey looked ready to throw a punch, but Reseph merely looked amused.
“Enough,” she said. “Trey, go back to your buddies.”
Trey jabbed a finger at Reseph. “You better watch yourself, asshole. Small town like this, word gets around, and we know how to cull the herd.” He glanced at Jillian. “Teach your stray some manners.”
What. An. Ass. Pissed, Jillian started after Trey, but Reseph pulled her back.
“He’s not worth it,” Reseph said. “Let me guess; his family has money or some shit?”
“Exactly.” She shot Trey one last glare before turning back to Reseph. “His family owns half the town. He has a sheep ranch just north of town, but he’d be flailing if not for his family money and all their connections.”
“Well,” he said, putting his mouth to her ear. “Let’s give him the attention he deserves.”
“Which is?”
“None.” He got a very naughty twinkle in his eye. “In fact, let’s take it all away from him.”
She huffed. “I know you aren’t thinking of doing something outrageous. Right?”
“Me?”
She poked him in the chest with one finger. “You. I’m going to the ladies’ room. Be good while I’m gone.”
Reseph’s smile was all charm and innocence, which made her instantly suspicious. “I’ll be so good you won’t know what hit you.”
“Reseph…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you up to?”
“I just thought of a way to thank you for bringing me here and for buying the drinks tonight.” He lifted his hand to her hair and sifted through it until he was cupping her cheek. “I don’t know much about myself, but I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve you.”
Funny, she thought the same thing about herself. That she didn’t deserve him. Or at least, that she couldn’t believe her luck, because truly, if she’d given a genie a wish for the perfect man, Reseph would have been the guy who showed up on her doorstep.
Or in a snowdrift.
“Knock it off,” she said, leaning in to steal a kiss. “You totally deserve me. Just consider the drinks payment for all
your help around the house.” He’d done so much, so this afternoon, after she’d taken him to the library for more research, she’d brought him here for a night out. He’d been so distracted at the library, his research halfhearted, and she’d hoped to cheer him up.
He shook his head. “I need to get a job or something. I can’t keep mooching off you.”
The implied permanence of what he’d just said both raised her hopes and unsettled her. She liked how things were now, and while the logical side of her knew they couldn’t stay like this forever, she wasn’t ready to start talking about him leaving, getting a job, finding a place of his own.
“We’ll figure it out. Once we find out who you are, everything will fall into place.” She hoped. God, she hoped.
She hurried to the bathroom, afraid to leave Reseph for long. The roguish glint in his eyes was the most predictable thing about him. It always signaled that he was going to do something utterly unpredictable.
Sure enough, before she even got back to the table she knew something was up. The fact that Reseph wasn’t there was the first clue. The second clue was that there was no music playing. The third was that everyone in the bar was staring at the stage, including Trey, whose expression was pure, red-faced hatred.
Almost afraid to look, Jillian swiveled around in her seat and gasped when she saw Reseph standing behind the microphone, his bright gaze burning a hole right through her. His smile stopped her heart. And then the band started playing. No… he wasn’t… was he?
Reseph brought the mic to his lips, and George Strait’s “I Cross My Heart” suddenly became Jillian’s favorite song. Reseph… could sing. And he sang it to her, his gaze never leaving her face.
When he finished, the entire bar erupted in applause that only died down when Reseph moved on to Alan Jackson’s “It’s Five O’clock Somewhere.” That one brought people out on the dance floor, and they stayed for Reseph’s incredibly deep rendition of Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”
When the last note played, the bar crowd once more exploded in cheers. Jillian, too breathless to cheer, had been so mesmerized by Reseph’s performance that she didn’t remember standing up. And when Reseph’s gaze locked on to her as he leaped gracefully off the stage, she moved to meet him. The people on the dance floor parted to allow him through, his shoulders rolling, his predatory intent clear.
She held her breath as he approached, and when he was inches away, his heat searing her skin, he grabbed her around the waist, tugged her against his hard body, and bent his head to her ear.
“How was that for taking the attention away from Trey?”
“Trey who?” she breathed. “God, you were amazing up there.” She’d never in her life been the type of woman to swoon for musicians, but she’d just become a Reseph groupie. “Ride a cowboy? Baby, saddle up.”
His teeth grazed her earlobe. “Home,” he said roughly. “I need to make you mine. Now.”
She shivered at his words, at the erotic undertone. And at the sheer, raw possession. She could tell him she already was his, but she wasn’t about to ruin his fun. Or hers.
“Do you think we can make it to the house?” she said, just as roughly. “My truck has a big cab, you know.”
She swore flames flared in his eyes, but were quickly doused. “Another time. I’m going to do this right.”
Okay, then. She wasted no time grabbing her jacket and paying the tab. Reseph waited by the door, but his eyes never left her, and as she walked toward him, his gaze grew more heated with every step. For fun, she slowed down as she neared him, and even from several feet away and with the music blaring, she heard his impatient growl.
Sweat bloomed on her skin and her blood raced through her veins, and that was enough teasing. She had never been more ready for bed in her life. When she reached him, he very carefully pushed her against the wall and kissed her, a punishing, sensual kiss that probably didn’t last longer than five seconds, but that left her dizzy, needy, and so on fire that the ten-degree night air didn’t feel nearly cold enough when they stepped out in it.
And seriously, why did she park so far away?
She glanced up at Reseph as he walked beside her, which was a huge mistake. The way he was looking at her made her want to drop into the snow and let him have his way with her right there in the parking lot.
“Hey, dickhead!”
Jillian groaned at Trey’s shout, and as they turned around, Trey and five of his lackeys formed a semicircle around them.
“You showoff punk,” Trey said. “You think you can come into my town and make me look like an ass?”
“You don’t need me to do that,” Reseph drawled. “You’re doing a bang-up job of it all on your own.”
Trey’s face mottled with rage. “I’m going to fuck you up, Amnesia Boy. Maybe that’ll be something you remember.”
“Look, man.” Reseph’s voice was calm, his grip on Jillian’s hand firm but gentle. “You want to back off. You and your buddies need to turn around and go back inside. You can tell everyone you beat me up and I ran away crying. I won’t say any different. But trust me on this one… you want to back off.”
“What a pussy.” Trey’s friend, whose name she thought was Darren, laughed. “Pussy wants to run off with his tail between his legs.”
“Shut up, Darren.” Jillian tugged on Reseph’s hand, hoping to get the hell out of there before things deteriorated. She didn’t doubt Reseph’s ability to fight, not after what she’d seen him do to the demon in her barn, but they were badly outnumbered. “Let’s go.”
Trey and two of his buddies moved to block them. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Last chance,” Reseph said. “Go back inside the bar.”
“Fuck you.”
Reseph sighed. “Okay, then.” He shoved Jillian behind him. “Get back.”
“But—”
“Get. Back.” Deadly menace all but leaked from his pores, and suddenly, she revised her earlier thought. Reseph wasn’t outnumbered. Trey and his buddies were.
“Reseph…”
He looked at her from over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “You need to stay out of their reach, because if one of them touches you, I’ll kill him.”
Jesus. He was serious. The way he’d said it, as if he was going to take out the garbage on just another ho-hum night… just, Jesus.
He swung back around to the idiots just in time for Darren to throw a punch.
It never landed. Reseph blocked Darren’s swing and took the other man down with a powerful right hook before spinning around to nail Trey in the gut with a kick that sent the jerk airborne. Trey slammed into his own pickup’s tailgate. Before he even hit the ground, Reseph put two more of Trey’s friends on their backs, one with a clearly broken arm.
A big red-headed guy rushed Reseph. Almost as if Reseph were bored, he jammed the heel of his hand into Red’s face, breaking his nose with an audible crunch. Blood sprayed as Red shouted in pain and lurched toward the bar’s back door.
The remaining guy backed off, hands up.
Dear Lord, Reseph had taken out five men and he wasn’t even breathing hard. The guys on the ground scrambled awkwardly out of his way as he strode over to Trey, who was holding his ribs and struggling to get to his feet. Reseph grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground as if Trey weighed no more than a jug of milk. With a nasty snarl Jillian could only describe as inhuman, Reseph rammed Trey into the driver’s side door, the impact crumpling the metal.
“I warned you,” Reseph said, his voice so bereft of emotion she shivered. “And now I’m warning you again. You fuck with me or Jillian, you so much as look at either of us with anything less than respect—nah, let’s go with awe—and I’ll dismantle you. If you survive, I promise you’ll spend the rest of your life pissing yourself every time you hear Jillian’s name. You feel me?”
At Trey’s frenzied nod, Reseph grinned coldly and looked down. “Looks like you got a head start on the pissing thing
.” He dropped Trey and wheeled around to Jillian. “You ready to go?”
All she could do was bob her head in answer as Trey and his buddies limped and shuffled their way back inside the bar.
Reseph took her hand and guided her toward the truck. “You okay?”
Aside from adrenaline scouring her veins like Drano, yes, she was. A huge sense of relief was tripping through her. Something told her that Reseph had held back with those guys. A lot. He’d been level-headed, efficient, and restrained.
It had been kind of… hot.
“I’m fine.” She twined her fingers in his. “And you?”
“I’m on fire.” He jerked her to a halt just shy of the truck and tugged her against him. Even in the shadows of the parking lot, his eyes glowed with a primitive, elemental need that called to a part of her she didn’t understand. All she knew was that her body felt both electrically charged and pliant as rubber, and liquid desire bloomed between her thighs. “I can’t explain it, but I need to be inside you more than ever.”
Her breath stuttered. “Yes,” she whispered.
Normally, now would be when Reseph gave her one of those cocky grins, but not this time. This time he was a single-minded predator, locked on target, and she was in his crosshairs. God, she loved this side of him. She never in a million years thought she’d be the type of woman to like the caveman type, but Reseph managed to not overwhelm. If anything, she couldn’t wait to feel him unleash his inner Neanderthal on her.
His hand dipped into her jacket pocket and withdrew her keys. Before she could protest, he unlocked the truck and opened the passenger side door.
“I’ll drive,” she said, but he lifted her into the seat.
“I have to drive, Jillian.”
“Why?”
His low, throaty growl triggered another rush of wetness. “Because if my hands aren’t on the wheel, they’ll be on you.”
She damned near moaned. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is when you’re driving.” He tugged the seat belt across her, and as he clicked it into place, he pressed a hot, velvet kiss to her throat.