A Reaper's Love (WindWorld)

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  They weren’t.

  What was more, she knew they knew that too.

  The news would shatter Taylor’s already fragile world. It would hurt him, crush him and the timetable of his recuperation from what had been done to him would be set back.

  “Damn you to hell, Dixon,” she said as she stood on the roof of the Exchange’s main building and stared across the rolling hills of the Iowa landscape.

  What made things worse was she knew Dixon hadn’t done any of it to hurt her. The man had an agenda and whatever it was involved her.

  He wanted her, she thought. From the moment the hellion had come out of stasis and spoken to him, Dixon had wanted her. He had confessed to her she had become an obsession before he ever knew her name.

  “I could not ignore my desire for you, sweeting,” he’d told her. “I had to have you or die in the trying. It didn’t matter if you loved someone else. I had to—needed to—make you mine.”

  Had it been Raphian’s idea or was the hellion what put the notion in Coulter’s mind? Was she bonded with the hellion as she was bonded with Taylor?

  “The hellion is the first to make the connection between life-mates,” Dr. Hesar had told her as he escorted her to her quarters. “It brings the Reaper’s attention to the female. In essence, it is the imperative given to the hellion by the goddess that sets everything in motion.”

  “I understand that about the Triune Goddess but what of the goddess Bastet? Is it the same with Her as with Mo Regina?” she’d asked.

  “That I can’t tell you,” Hesar admitted. “Little is known of the an Éigiptian goddess. However, the ancient Egyptians worshipped Bast, the cat goddess. In researching that deity I discovered She had three husbands so obviously monogamy was not high on Her list of qualities a woman needed to embrace.”

  “So cheating on a life-mate wouldn’t matter to Her.”

  “Probably not,” Hesar agreed.

  “Well, it matters to me,” she’d told him.

  A red-tailed hawk soared above her and she could have sworn the bird was watching her.

  “Keeping an eye on me, Dixon?”

  The whisper came to her on a gentle ripple of wind. “Always, my love.”

  She watched the hawk riding the thermals. “Does the goddess speak to you?”

  “No but I am glad you still do.”

  “I can’t hate you, Dixon,” she said with a weary sigh. “As much as I want to, I can’t.”

  She could feel him smiling as the bird disappeared from sight.

  As much as she disliked the idea, she knew in her heart Dixon would be a good Alpha—if the other Reapers allowed him to continue drawing breath. He had the necessary skills and determination to get the job done and she suspected he’d let nothing stand in his way. He was ruthless enough and dangerous enough to take on the world’s most dogged terrorists and put them down.

  Hard.

  “There are no redeemable terrorists, sweeting,” he’d told her in Greece. “Only dead ones, and I intend to see they meet those fictional virgins much sooner than they expect to.”

  How the other Reapers and the Supervisors would handle, control Coulter worried her. She sensed a deeper well of powers within him than she had yet to experience. He’d wielded absolute control over her with such ease she’d been unable to resist. Even though she knew precisely what he was doing to her, she was helpless to prevent it.

  That he had made it so she had no doubt yet still she could not hate him for it. He was being controlled too, though she wasn’t sure if he realized to what extent.

  “I am aware of it though It doesn’t think I know,” he’d said.

  He thought he had a handle on the situation, had Raphian fooled and contained, but she worried that wasn’t the case. The demon had been around since the dawning of time and had tricks up Its sleeve Coulter might not sense.

  “I can handle Him,” he told her as the hawk landed on the top of the pyramid-shaped glass roof of the atrium.

  “I hope so, Dixon,” she said, looking right at the hawk.

  “Laci?”

  She turned at the sound of Misha Fallon’s voice. “What did they say?” she asked.

  “You can see him tomorrow,” Fallon said. “That was the best Cree could do.”

  “Have you been to see him?”

  “Just came from there,” he replied and glanced at the bird. He stared at it for a long moment then snorted. “Why do you never have a slingshot when you need one?”

  “You don’t like birds?” she asked.

  “I don’t like spies,” he answered. He took her arm. “Let’s go to the break room and talk.” He gave her arm a couple of hard squeezes.

  “Okay,” she said. She cast the hawk one last look then went with the Reaper.

  Once inside the building, waiting for the elevator to take them to the lower level, she turned to Fallon. “How is he?”

  “Prowling the con cell like the big cat he is,” he replied then shrugged. “He’s okay. If Coulter would leave him the hell alone.”

  “Dixon has been to see him?” she inquired as the elevator doors opened.

  “No, but he’s been sending to him. Smug bastard,” Fallon grumbled. He waited for her to enter the elevator.

  Laci raised her eyebrows when he pressed the button for the second sublevel. That was where the containment cells were located.

  “No,” he said at her silent question. “We’re not going there.”

  She frowned then realized where he was most likely taking her. She’d never been to the Suppression Chamber, only knew of its existence. It was where the Supervisor and Reapers went for maximum secrecy. The walls, ceiling and floor of the room were made of two-foot-thick solid iron. Iron blocked the use of magic and physic ability as well so the room was a safe zone where no outside force—not even a god, goddess or demon—could be privy to what went on within its walls.

  There were no cameras or microphones in the room and those who entered were required to put on a slender iron choker that would further block any psychic transmissions.

  When the cage settled and the doors opened, she wasn’t surprised to see Cree and Sorn waiting for them. Sorn opened the door of the Suppression Chamber.

  “The Cone of Silence awaits, milady,” he said with a grin.

  Laci laughed. Sorn had a wicked sense of humor neither Cree nor Fallon—or even Taylor, for that matter—possessed.

  Once inside the room, Fallon locked the door behind them and flipped on a switch.

  “Signal scrambler,” Cree explained. “Just one more precaution.”

  “He’ll know you brought me here,” she said.

  “Aye, but he won’t know why,” the Alpha Prime said and handed her one of the chokers that hung on pegs on the wall. “Keep this on until further notice.”

  For all its thinness, the collar was heavy and unsettling as she latched it around her neck. “Ugh,” she said with a grimace.

  “Ain’t the smell lovely?” Sorn asked.

  “I love the smell of iron in the morning,” Fallon muttered.

  There was a circle of nine chairs sitting in the center of the room. Each chair was made of iron—yet another precaution taken.

  “Take a seat, Laci,” Cree ordered as he reached into the pocket of his black jeans and removed something. He sat down across from her then extended his hand. Nestled between his thumb and index finger was a small glass vial. “Take it.”

  She did as he instructed, looking down at the amber-colored vial. “What is this?”

  “A very strong mixture of trastacáin, pairilis and státúil combined with full-strength triso,” Cree replied.

  Laci slowly lifted her gaze from the vial to his dark amber orbs. “Mother of the goddess,” she whispered. “Is this stuff safe?”

  “Certainly not for humans but it should do one helluva number on a Reaper or an asswipe Gravelord,” Fallon said with a smirk.

  “We don’t know what—if anything—can bring Coulter to his knees and i
f that cocktail doesn’t do the job, we’re screwed,” Cree told her.

  “And just how am I supposed to administer this?” she asked.

  “Duh. You need to drop it into his drink,” Sorn said.

  “Without him knowing it,” she said.

  “Well, you’ll have seduced him by then and he won’t be expecting you to roofie him,” Fallon replied.

  “You think not?” she said, shaking her head. The vial felt like ice in her hand.

  “We hope not,” Cree said.

  “After he goes down—which I pray he does—you need to bolt one of the iron chokers and two iron wristbands on him before we come in,” Fallon said.

  “Leave yours on,” Cree warned. “Don’t take it off. He can’t get into your head, can’t see what we’re planning if you keep that choker on.”

  She nodded. “What then.”

  “Go to the intercom and punch in 872. No need to say anything. That just alerts us that everything is good to go,” Fallon replied. “We’ll come to his apartment, pick him up and take him to the med unit.”

  “Where Taylor will already be,” Sorn told her.

  “Dr. Hesar will open the two of them up and swap the hellions,” Cree said.

  “You really think it’s going to be that easy?” she asked.

  “The man is obsessed with you,” Cree reminded her. “Use that, Laci. Play him. He may be a powerful Superlord but he’s still a man.”

  “A disgustingly horny man at that,” Sorn groused. “Put it in his face and he’ll take a bite. Believe me.”

  “Ugh, Sorn,” Fallon complained. “That’s a sick analogy.”

  “She gets the point,” Cree said.

  “Let’s hope not,” Fallon snapped and glared at Cree when the Alpha Prime shot him a nasty look.

  “What if this stuff doesn’t work on him?” she asked. “What then?”

  “Only the gods know,” Cree said, returning his gaze to her. “If Morrigunia were here, She could take him down but who the hell knows where She is. We just have to keep our fingers crossed and hope that shit puts him out.”

  “And that he doesn’t suspect anything,” she added.

  “There’s nothing for you to worry about if he does,” Fallon said. “He’s not going to hurt you, Laci.”

  “I hope not,” she mumbled.

  “He won’t,” Cree stated emphatically. “He believes he is your life-mate. He is incapable of hurting you.”

  “And there’s the added benefit that he believes he’s slept with you even though he hasn’t,” Sorn put in.

  Laci nodded. “Yes. There is that,” she replied softly. She got to her feet. “Anything else I should know?”

  “Yes,” Cree said. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped between his spread legs. “The goddess will erase all memory of your time together with Coulter so—”

  “No,” she stated.

  The Alpha Reaper blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I said no,” Laci repeated, her chin raised. “I don’t want my memory wiped.”

  The men stared at her. Cree glanced at Fallon then slumped in his chair. “Why not?”

  “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it,” she said.

  “Laci, that doesn’t apply here,” Cree told her. “You need to understand the seriousness of the situation.”

  “Understand what?” she questioned.

  “Even after the hellions are swapped, Coulter is going to continue his obsession with you. That’s not going to stop. He will love you, desire you, lust after you for as long as he draws breath. To him, you will always be his life-mate. He will consider you that and he will continue to bombard you with suggestions, with commands to come to him. The only way to protect yourself from that happening is to let Mo Regina wipe your mind of his existence and implant a safeguard that will keep him from reengaging your subconscious,” the Alpha Reaper explained.

  “I said no,” she insisted.

  “Laci—”

  “You need to swear to me, Viraiden,” she said then swept her eyes to both Sorn and Fallon before coming back to Cree’s. “You will not ask Morrigunia to get involved in this. Swear to me—on your honor as the Alpha Prime—that you will not ask Her to wipe my memory.”

  “This is—”

  “Swear it, Viraiden!”

  She could hear his harsh breath filling and leaving his lungs. He cursed in a language she didn’t know, then agreed.

  “Anything else?” she inquired.

  “I guess not,” Cree replied.

  “Good.” She walked to the door. “If he succumbs to the drug, I’ll let you know.”

  The Reapers watched her leave. They sat collapsed in their chairs without speaking for a long time. Finally Cree shook his head.

  “This is a fucking nightmare,” he told the others. “Allowing her to retain her memories is going to backfire on us big-time.”

  “There’s a way around it,” Sorn said.

  “How?” Cree barked.

  “She made you vow not to get Morrigunia involved,” the Panthera Reaper said with a grin. “She said nothing of Bastet.”

  “You are in contact with the Panthera creatrix?” Cree asked, his eyes wide.

  “No, but I can try to communicate with Her,” Sorn answered. “What have we got to lose in trying?”

  “Nothing,” Cree said, a muscle ticking in his tense jaw. “Let’s do it!”

  “How?” Fallon queried.

  “Well, I’d say Google rituals for the Egyptian goddess Bast and take it from there,” Cree replied.

  * * * * *

  “And?” Keenan asked her husband. She had accompanied Fallon to the Exchange to be there for Laci. Bronwyn Cree was somewhere in the facility as well.

  “She appeared,” Fallon said. His eyes were glazed and from time to time he shivered.

  “What does She look like?”

  He shivered again then ran a hand through his hair. “A hundred times more beautiful than Mo Regina and a thousand times more sensual. I can see why She is also a goddess of pleasure,” he answered.

  Keenan frowned. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you get aroused, Reaper?”

  “In spades,” he told her. “And then some, but poor Sorn…” He let out a ragged breath. “That poor boy’s gonna be walking funny for a few days to come.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, following him as he made a beeline for the bathroom. “Misha?”

  “The last I saw of him,” he said as he stepped up to the commode and bent over to lift the lid. “She had him so enthralled, me and Cree could have set fire to his ass and he wouldn’t even have noticed.” He unzipped his fly. “My guess is She set fire to it in ways I’d rather not think about, thank you just the same.”

  She leaned against the doorjamb as he relieved himself. “You think She seduced him?”

  “I think She fucked what little brains he had out,” Fallon replied. “Sorn needed to get laid anyway.”

  “Okay but is She going to help?”

  “That was the condition of Her help,” he said, shaking himself then stuffing his cock back into his jeans. “That Sorn make himself open to Her demands.” He reached for the handle of the toilet. “I don’t think that was too much of a burden for the boy.”

  “He needs a life-mate,” she said.

  “He’s getting one,” her husband said as he started toward her. At her raised eyebrow, he made a detour to the sink.

  “When?”

  “Soon according to Her. The woman has been picked and will be coming to work at Tearmann within the next few months.”

  “That’s good,” Keenan said. “So have Laci’s memories been cleaned?”

  “Not yet,” he said as he dried his hands on his pants instead of the towel. “She’ll do that after the hellions are traded.”

  “I did some reading on Bast,” Keenan said. “She is a protector of women. That makes Laci important to Bastet.”
>
  “She only spoke to Sorn and in a language neither Cree nor I understood but we got the impression Laci would be under Her protection as the life-mate of a Panthera,” he told her. He draped an arm around her. “What’s for supper, babe?”

  “I think it’s Mexican day in the cafeteria,” she replied. “What about this Coulter guy? Do you think She considers him Panthera?”

  “Hell no,” he said as he led her to the door of their apartment. “He wasn’t born and bred one of Hers. His hellion was stolen. If She thinks of him at all, it’s as a thief to be punished. You ever heard how the ancient Egyptians punished thieves?” He opened the door. “That would work for me.”

  * * * * *

  Morrigunia wasn’t pleased that another goddess had materialized at the Exchange. The moment She became aware of the dark beauty strolling toward her, the Triune Goddess hissed, Her inner dragon trying to escape.

  “I have come to You out of respect,” Bastet said. “Not to engage in hostilities.”

  “You would lose,” Morrigunia said.

  “I think not,” Bastet said. “I have killed many reptiles in My day and what is a dragon but a flying snake?”

  Fury lashed at Morrigunia but She could hear Her husband’s voice bleating in Her ear and let the insult pass.

  “Why are You here?” She demanded of the an Éigiptian deity.

  “One of Mine is in difficulty. I came to help.”

  “If you mean Taylor Reynaud, when a Reaper comes to Terra or is birthed here, he falls under My aegis,” Morrigunia said with a sniff. “Thus, he is one of Mine.”

  Bastet’s smile was nasty. “Consider him what You will. He is Panthera and of My blood but since I do not visit this backward world, You are welcome to see to his welfare. As far as I can tell, You have things well in hand regarding the male. It is the female I came to help.”

  Morrigunia narrowed Her dark-green eyes. “Help her how exactly? I will erase—”

  “She made the dangerous one vow not to allow You to interfere,” Bastet said. “She bid him swear not to let You remove her memories of her time with the thief. He had no choice but to agree.”

  “You mean Cree,” Morrigunia said and at Bastet’s nod, She frowned. “Why would Taylor’s life-mate make such a request?”