Seducing Chaos

by Luna Quinn

  With his hand, he reached out and, light as a butterfly’s wing, touched Sasha’s chin. Surprising him again, she lifted her face, her eyes rising to meet his gaze.

  When a small tremor moved over her skin, he was so fucking tempted to move even closer, to rub his nose against the curve of her shoulder and neck. As appealing as that was, he forced himself to remain where he was. The finger to her chin had been a fluke, and even if she wasn’t punching him for it, Razor knew he should stop. Yet his finger refused to move off her skin.

  He could see her pulse beating wildly under her dark brown skin, and suddenly his mouth was watering. Fuck him, he’d trade his motorcycle right now for just one kiss.

  Gambling with his limbs wasn’t his usual style, but it didn’t seem to matter as he reached out and gently took a curl between two fingers….

  He realized too late that he’d made yet another huge mistake. Sasha’s head crashed into his nose.

  Razor hissed in pain as he took a step back.

  “You deserved that and you know it,” she scolded, motioning to his bleeding nose from several paces away now. “And you never touch a black girl’s hair without her permission, ever.”

  Again, he cursed, not at her, but at himself. He shouldn’t have touched her. There was no excuse, he knew.

  Their gazes met again, and he hoped that she saw his apology…and the other things he put in there. Desire, not only for her physically, but desire to prove he was worthy of her. And determination to see the walls she put up crumble to dust.

  She frowned, and in the next heartbeat, Sasha, along with the soul she’d come to collect, poofed right out of existence.

  He watched her disappear, tempted to give into his Hellhound side and go after her.He didn’t, instead groaning as more blood trickled down to his lips. He touched the soft—clearly broken—bridge of his nose, and if he could have, would have snorted with laughter because he was in so much fucking trouble. He didn’t even care that his nose was broken, so he was clearly lacking brain cells.

  Razor didn’t care because, like the idiot he was, he might have just fallen in love.

  Chapter Three

  Delivering a soul was the easiest part of the job. It was a simple delivery, and a process Sasha could do with her eyes closed. Unfortunately, she was still worked up from her little encounter with that damn Hellhound—that damn fine Hellhound, if she were being honest with herself. With his shaved head and rippling muscles covered with tattoos, he was practically edible. Not that she’d noticed.

  The soul delivery process definitely wasn’t going to be as easygoing as usual today. And of course, there was a line.

  It seemed the Pit was receiving a large influx of bad eggs tonight. Sasha tapped her toes, studied her blunt nails, looked around impatiently. All she wanted to do was get home, take a nice relaxing bath, and maybe read a book. She also had her nightly workout routine to do, but relaxing before that was important. The sooner she got out of here, the sooner she could be soaking in hot water and forgetting about Razor—er, everyday stresses.

  Finally, she was able to hand off the soul she’d collected so it could finish its journey. Once they gave the soul over to the Receiver, Reapers washed their hands of the soul, and their job was done. So Sasha transported her ass out of the limbo-esque plane where souls were dropped off.

  Stepping into her apartment at last, Sasha breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around the place, no one would have guessed that she could have actually afforded a mansion. Her apartment was in the midst of the slums. Each Sector had its bad areas, but the blocks that made up what everyone knew as “the slums” were the absolute worst-not just in Sector Three, but in the entirety of Shadow Realm.

  Sasha had been living there ever since moving to Shadow Realm, and she’d stayed for specific reasons. She blended in here because she’d made it her job to do so. There was plentiful information here that she couldn’t gather anywhere else, or that no one from out of the area would ever be able to get. She had friends and allies here. Sasha was a powerful Reaper living simply and in a dirty corner so she could be overlooked.

  And kick ass while no one saw her.

  Her apartment was a mess, though that wasn’t so much on purpose as it was she simply saw no reason to go nuts cleaning the place. It was never a home in the true sense of the word. She worked, and then she came here to sleep on a bed. Rinse and repeat. Speaking of relaxing, Sasha smiled as she walked into her bathroom, leaning down to turn on the hot water in the tub.

  “Do you have a moment to talk business?”

  Sasha whirled around at the voice laced with amusement, her automatic reflex to attack the intruder fading away quickly. Only Reapers could travel so quickly and appear undetected in her private space, and only one Reaper specifically would be so entertained and at ease to do so.

  Leaning easily against the sink in a white V-neck shirt and jeans, Xavier smiled at her. His dusky brown skin peeked out of his shirt, and the tight-fitting clothes hinted at the sleek muscles underneath.

  His dark, shoulder length hair was disheveled in a way that suggested a lot of running through it with his fingers, and his smoky gray eyes were sharp. Seeing the leader of the Reapers in her apartment was enough of a shock to straighten her spine.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked. Xavier hardly left Ra’k, the realm where only Reapers could go and where he ran everything. The only explanation she could come up with was the damn world exploding.

  Xavier laughed warmly. It was specifically when he laughed that he looked completely androgynous. Sasha hadn’t been sure of his gender or even which pronouns to call him until she’d finally asked him centuries ago. He was too damn beautiful to be legal.

  “Yes and no. There’s no oncoming apocalypse or anything to get worked up about. There is, however, a situation.” Now Xavier’s expression turned more serious. “I have a case for you to work on.”

  “Sure, anything,” she replied easily.

  “I’m setting up a few teams to research this in different directions, because it’s going to be a very delicate situation. Souls are disappearing off my radar.”

  Sasha’s eyes widened. Xavier didn’t lose track of souls. Period. She already had a bad feeling about this. “How many?”

  “Five souls in the past two days.” He paused and met her eyes. “A hundred souls in the past month.”

  “What the fuck?” Sasha paled so much she could probably pass for a white girl. One soul disappearing was an anomaly. Five souls was a head scratcher. A hundred souls? Something stank. Bad.

  Xavier shook his head. “I’m not mentioning the total number of souls to anyone else. You can keep that information to yourself. But I needed you to understand just how big this problem is.”

  Sasha stared at him. As she processed that, a niggling feeling in her stomach made her pause. “You know…we’ve been finding a lot of strange dead bodies. They look like they’re melted, but it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. Have you heard of this?”

  He frowned deeply, visibly troubled by the information. “No. But I’ll look into it.”

  She shook her head. They didn’t know who was doing this, how, or why. Fan-freaking-tastic. “How the hell are we going to stop this? Do we even know what kind of creature is capable of screwing with the soul system like that?”

  “We don’t.” He sighed. “But that’s your job. You and your partner will—”

  “Whoa, hold up. Partner? I don’t play well with others. You know that.”

  “You and your partner,” Xavier said in a slightly louder tone, continuing as if she hadn’t interrupted him, “will work together and do your thing in the slums to see if you can hear any rumblings. Archer spotted a creature ripping out throats the other night and has a lead you can ask him about. Personally, I think you and your partner are going to be able to come up with information no one else will be able to have access to. You need to work with him in order for us to fix this mess.”

  “Him?” S
asha closed her eyes, praying this partner of hers was, by some miracle, one of the other Reapers. She loved her fellow Reapers like a family. Locke was like her sweet younger brother, and Archer like her wild older brother. No matter how bad things got, they all looked out for each other.

  Looking up, she saw Xavier watching her as if she were a dog about to bite him. It was a pretty funny sight to see.

  Until he spoke again.

  “You’ll be partnering up with Razor.”

  Sasha didn’t consciously remember picking up the towel from her counter. Nor did she remember throwing it at Xavier’s head. Even as she was questioning her choice of weapon, she heard his laughter. He’d disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the bathroom.

  “I’m glad you find this so funny, you asshole.” So what if he was technically her boss? She’d called him worse things over less.

  Xavier was full on grinning now. On top of that, he wagged his finger like she was some schoolgirl he was scolding. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, Sasha. Archer is out of the question since he’s pissed off too many people to be useful in covert operations.” Sasha snorted. That much was true. Xavier continued, “Locke might work, but he doesn’t have the rapport you’ve already established on the streets. I’m cutting down your Calls to only when Archer and Locke can’t take them. And for the love of all things, please play nice. You and Razor are the only ones who can work in certain areas and not raise suspicion. He has access almost everywhere, and you have access to the places no one else knows about, including him. Do not argue with me. It is done.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Sasha…” Xavier’s smile faded, and he was once again the serious leader of her kind. Because of how close she and Xavier were—she saw him as her only father figure—she often forgot how much responsibility lay on his shoulders, and how much he was in charge of. “Please. This is important.” Fury flashed in his eyes, but not at her. “Whoever is behind those missing souls needs to be found. Quickly, and before word gets out. Before it gets worse. I need to know who thinks they can get away with this. They won’t think so highly of themselves when I’m done with them.”

  She sighed and let her head drop. The tension in her shoulders tightened as she imagined the horrors of that many missing souls. Seeing Xavier not only concerned, but actually angry, told her without a doubt how serious this was. Nothing got him angry. “Yes, Xavier. Of course.” She bit her tongue to keep from commenting, again, how much she’d hate working with him. The one person in all of creation who managed to piss her off with a word and, only very recently, turn her on with a look.

  Xavier nodded once. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

  With that, Xavier disappeared, leaving Sasha and her frustration alone.

  She needed to hit something. Hard.

  Well, seeing Razor again might have a purpose after all.

  Chapter Four

  Twenty minutes later, Razor was still wiping blood from his nose when Archer appeared with a grin on his face.

  “You know what else arrives this quickly to the scene of a bloody death, Arch?” he said as he turned to face another of the Reapers. “Carrion insects.”

  Archer laughed and gave Razor the middle finger.

  Today, the Reaper looked as close to plain as he ever came. His usually brightly colored hair was a plain black. He wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt, dark jeans, heavy shit-kickers, thick leather wristbands, and a khaki cowl with straps that wrapped around his wide shoulders and underarms. Beneath the cowl, it almost appeared as if he wore bandages. He had two hoops on each side of his bottom lip, two barbs on his right eyebrow, one barbell through his tongue, and gauges in each earlobe.

  “Maybe, but are those sick little bastards as pleasant and handsome as I am?” He gave a smile full of teeth.

  Razor snorted. “Have you been hanging around Night lately?” he asked as he made his way out of the alley. “I would ask you what the hell you’re doing here, but I can see by the stupid smile on your face that you probably came to laugh at me.”

  He wiped at his nose again. Damn her, his nose still fucking hurt even though it was already healing.

  Archer released a playful sigh of appreciation and joined him on his way out of the alley. “Night is my hero. I want to be just like him when I grow up.”

  Razor rolled his eyes. Was there anyone who didn’t crush on Night?

  He could feel Archer eyeing his nose. He expected the Reaper to ask him what had happened. He didn’t. Instead, he asked, “So, how long have you and Sasha been circling each other now?” As if he were sure it had been Sasha who’d broken his nose.

  He huffed at the question, annoyed. Goddess, had he been that obvious?

  Pulling his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, Razor began typing a message to the city cleaners, giving himself time to decide whether or not to address Archer’s question.

  No, definitely not.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” From now on, he’d have to be more careful when he spied on her.

  He stopped in his tracks. What the fuck was wrong with him? When did stalking become a normal flow of thought for him? He rubbed a hand over his face. He needed a fucking smoke, a drink, and definitely sex.

  “Oh come on, Razor. You two can’t be in the same room without throwing off mad sparks.”

  Yeah, right. Wouldn’t he fucking wish.

  “You must have gotten the wrong memo, buddy. She and I hate each other. We can’t even be in the same room without someone going home bloody. As you can clearly see.”

  Archer waved a hand dismissively. “Foreplay.”

  He wasn’t going to get into this conversation with Archer. Besides, Razor himself wasn’t even sure what the hell was going on between him and Sasha.

  Yes, she felt and smelled unique to him. And since scents were important to him, it was confusing as fuck that her scent wasn’t of pack or family, like his brothers. But she wasn’t enemy or prey, either. It was a strange mix of them all…but not.

  Shit, was it any wonder she had him all tangled up and determined to find out what made her smell entirely too good? As their most recent encounter proved, it might be difficult to accomplish.

  Frustration made him snap at the other Reaper. “What the fuck are you doing here, Archer? That little hellion already picked up the soul, so what do you want?”

  “Having a bad day, Raz?” the other man inquired with a pout. His small, brown eyes—one of the traits Archer once told him he’d inherited from his Korean mother—looked puppy-dog sad. The twitch of his lips said he was just being an asshole.

  Razor growled a warning. “Keep it up, and I’ll bite your face off.”

  “Jeez, you need to get laid, my friend.”

  Before he could deliver the punch his hand was tingling for, Archer sped up his walk, effectively moving out of reach.

  “I have a message for you. Actually, Xavier has a message for you.”

  Razor’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. At the mention of the Reaper leader, an image of Xavier appeared in his mind. He’d only seen the guy a handful of times, but there was something about Xavier that always made Razor…shifty. Not because the guy was a jerk or anything, but because when he’d been in the same room as Xavier, his hormones had gone all wonky. He didn’t know what type of Other Xavier was, but the guy was really good looking. Even Razor, who identified as straight, could see that.

  More than once in the early days, he had questioned his sexuality around Xavier. Some awkward experimenting later had told him that, no, he was definitely straight. He stopped worrying about his reaction to the leader of Reapers, and attributed it to the fact that with his graceful and otherworldly beauty, Xavier looked like an angel from one of the books in Razor’s collection from before the Great Fires.

  “Oh, and what does your boss have to say?”

  “He has a job for you.”

  He gave Archer a look. “Oh, really? And what exactly would that jo
b be?”

  “Let me start from the beginning,” Archer said, all business now. “Two weeks ago, I came across something that didn’t raise any red flags at the time. I was on a collection, a woman with a torn jugular—sad, but nothing we haven’t seen before—when this creature-thing ran out from behind a dumpster. Even if I’d wanted to give chase, you know I couldn’t leave the soul.”

  He nodded, understanding Archer meant that literally. What he knew about Reapers included the fact that once they were called to collect a soul, it was like they were on a figurative leash being dragged through time and space. They had to get to the soul. There was no other choice. He had been on a leash before—literally—and didn’t envy them.

  “I wrote it off, knowing you or Edge would catch up to him eventually if the fucker had broken any rules.” Archer crossed his arms over his chest, but looked pained and dropped his arms instead.

  “I should have paid more attention, made a bigger deal out of it. But I didn’t. Then a week ago, we got reports from contacts in some surrounding areas about an alarming number of young girls that had gone missing. Xavier sent out queries to other lands, but no other Reapers had seen or heard anything remotely similar.”

  His stomach churned. “How young?”

  “Young, Razor.” Archer’s jaw clenched. “Under one hundred.”

  Others aged at a much slower rate than humans, and although all races of Others had slightly different ages of maturity, anyone under one hundred years old was considered still a child, for all intents and purposes. They were akin to what humans considered teenagers. Most still lived at home with their parents and were protected as such.

  He cursed in Vruk, his first language. The lack of use and centuries in the human realm had made Empyrean, the universal language of New Earth, his brain’s favored language. But sometimes strong emotions caused his brain to glitch, and then out came the Vruk.

  “Why haven’t I heard of this?” This was disturbing on so many levels. He was the eyes and ears of this land. Underage Others had gone missing from his fucking city, and he was only now hearing about it. Add that to the melting bodies situation he had yet to solve, and it was enough to make Razor want to hang up his “judge” robe.