A Reaper's Love (WindWorld)
Page 26
“I should detest it. I should fight it but I find I am weary of the whole thing and I believe Wynd has put his stamp of approval on me loosening up.”
“Why would you think that?”
She turned her head toward him. “If he were here, he would want his own revenge upon the goddess for Her meddling. He was angry at Her for stealing our child. Imagine how angry he must be in the Afterlife at knowing She orchestrated his death for Her own selfish motives.”
“So you believe he is accepting of our pairing.”
She flinched. “I would not go that far,” she said. “But I think he does not mind us working together and perhaps he wishes me not to hurt you.”
“I wish for you not to too.”
“And I can forego my personal geasa about you fucking other women.” She shrugged. “You have my permission to fuck as many as you like as long as it does not interfere with the missions we do together.”
“Huh,” he said with a grunt.
He unfolded his arms and sat down in the swing beside her. He walked backward as far as he could go then kicked his feet out from under him, pulling back hard on the chains, soaring in counterpoint to her then somehow managing to get them in sync. He said nothing but took joy in the feeling of the rushing wind striking his face. As strong as they were, they were both soon flying high enough to be even with the top crossbar of the swing. After a few circuits reaching that goal, they turned to look at one another and in perfect synchronization let go of the chains and did double backflips, landing on their feet at the same time.
“Fucking A!” she said and high-fived him. The sound of their palms slapping together was loud.
She grinned.
He grinned then cleared his throat as he braced his hands on his hips and tilted his head to one side to study her.
“What?” she asked, nose crinkling.
“We’re gonna work well together, Banshee,” he said.
“Yeah, I think that was the idea, Gravelord,” she replied.
He put out a hand. “Here’s to a good Extension ship.”
She hesitated a second or two then clapped her hand to his, warrior-style.
They started back to the motel.
“I still think it’s my killer bod,” he said, casting her a quick glance.
“Could be,” she agreed. Her silver eyes raked down his tall, lean frame. “Could very well be. Tell me. How many sit-ups can you do in an hour’s time?”
* * * * *
“Fuck me if she isn’t being nice to the bastard,” Fallon grumbled as he and Sorn set off for the dormitory that night. “Had their heads together at lunch. Had their heads together at supper. She even laughed at that stupid joke he told us on the way here.”
“And this concerns you because?” Sorn queried.
“Ain’t right,” Fallon stated. “She went from wanting to eviscerate him to nudging him in the ribs with her scrawny elbow? What the hell’s up with that?” He shook his head. “Ain’t natural, I’m telling you. Banshees and Reapers are natural enemies.”
“Like cats and dogs?” Sorn prodded. “Such as me and you?”
“Fuck you, Sorn,” Fallon snapped. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” He ran the sleeve of his black uniform shirt under his nose. “You don’t think she’s going to wind up in the sack with him, do you?”
“Not likely,” Sorn said. “That woman is loyal to her true life-mate even though he’s long gone and then there’s the geasa concerning Lupine Reapers not having sex with any female other than his life-mate.”
“So there’s no way of getting ’round that,” Fallon said with a smirk.
“Not since the geasa is laid upon the hellion, not the man,” Sorn replied. “Glad that isn’t a problem for Pantheras.”
“Yeah, well you try fooling around on your life-mate when she arrives and see what happens,” Fallon said. “We Hell-hounds don’t have that geasa, either, but if I tried screwing around on Kiki, she’d cut me off and that is a fate to be avoided, bro.”
“I won’t want to fool around on my woman anyway,” Sorn said.
“Aye, well, Coulter will,” Fallon said. “And the fucking bastard won’t be able to!”
From above them the Father-God smiled. “That’s what you think, Reaper,” He said with amusement.
* * * * *
General Blaine Dexter stared fearfully at the group of black-clad men surrounding him and shuddered. He knew what they were if not who and he knew why they had come.
“I’m not telling you anything!” he said, trying not to look at the scores of dead men piled like raked autumn leaves in the center of the room. His wife was sitting calmly in a chair, her mind gone.
“Oh, I believe you will,” the Reaper who was obviously the leader said.
“I won’t. I am immune to mind control,” the general said. “My handlers saw to that.”
The leader simply smiled and turned his head toward the door through which a stunningly beautiful woman with long white hair drifted—not walked but drifted—into the room.
Pale as moonlight, wearing an ankle-length gauzy white gown with a handkerchief hem, the woman moved so seductively he became instantly stiff beneath his silk robe. He could see the very faint outline of a sumptuous figure beneath the gown for her skin was so white it almost blended into the fabric. Her silver eyes were locked on him and he found he could not move. It felt as though he were snared in a tight web that constricted even his breath.
“Good evening, General,” she said in a smoky, sultry voice that made his cock leap. “Saur, give the gentleman a chair in which to sit, would you?”
One of the Reapers nodded and swung a chair from the table, plopping it down behind Dexter. “Sit,” he ordered, a hard hand to the general’s shoulder to make sure he obeyed the command.
He sat down heavily—unable to resist—and stared up at the seductive woman. “What are you?” he whispered.
“I, dear one, am a Banshee,” she said and leaning over him, her slender hands gripping the arms of the chair. “And I am your worst nightmare come to unlife.”
Coulter watched his new Extension as she set about draining all the information she sought from the general’s mind. It took less than five minutes for her to find out who the foreign national was who had recruited Dexter and where to find him. It took a minute or so more of intense probing to discover the remainder of what the traitor knew.
“A facility outside Pyongyang where hellions are being bred,” Cree said, his forehead creased. “That image boggles the mind. How the hell is that possible? Hellions don’t multiply outside a Reaper’s body.”
“I can hazard a guess,” Sorn said. “Panthera hellions are male. Lupine and Hell-hound hellions are female. If the North Koreans have managed to get their hands on a few Panthera kings, that’s how they are doing it.”
“Lupine-Panthera hybrids,” Cree said. “Or worse yet Hell-hound-Panthera hybrids.”
“Shit,” Fallon said. “That is one fucking scary thought.”
“This makes it imperative that we go to North Korea,” Belial said. “We have to shut down that facility.”
Wynth turned his head to look at the pile of dead bodies. “That means every one of those men were hybrids,” he said. “Panthera-Lupine Reapers.”
“Another scary thought,” Fallon said.
“All right,” Coulter said. “Let’s wrap this up. Sky, do your mind-wipe thing with the general then plant the info we need him to deliver. Also make sure he decides to get out of the race for senate and stays out of politics altogether. We have enough corrupt SOBs in the government already.”
“Roger that,” she said and gleefully went to work erasing all memories of Reapers and balgairs from Dexter’s dazed mind.
“Start planting these men around the room,” Cree told the others. “Make it look as though they were attending a meeting. We sure as hell don’t need them stacked up like firewood for the arson inspector to find.”
“Sky, can you tak
e the general and his wife upstairs and get them dressed appropriately?” Coulter asked.
“Servants too,” Saur suggested.
“Not a problem,” the Banshee said. She crooked a finger at the general. “Come, boy.” She turned away.
The Reapers set about preparing the stage. When they were finished, the general and his wife and their mind-wiped servants standing in a catatonic state on the front lawn, Saur and Wynth blew the mansion to smithereens.
Fiery-red glow lighting the night sky behind them, the Reapers piled into the van and headed for the airfield and the jet awaiting them.
* * * * *
Once more at the Exchange—Wynth, Saur and Belial having gone home—Coulter, Cree, Fallon, Sorn and Skylar sat at the table in the board room with the directors, Taylor, Laci, Neal Hesar and the Shadowlords.
“We need to wait a month or two,” Alexandru told them. “If we attack the facility in Pyongyang now, they might be expecting us. Let’s give them some time to grow complacent and to believe the explosion was not staged.”
“Gen. Dexter’s life-altering speech was almost comical,” Constantine said with a chuckle. “What was it he said? ‘Coming that close to death makes me realize how much life I haven’t lived’?” He shook his head. “Priceless sound byte.”
“A quote for the ages,” his brother Neal suggested.
“So we’ll assemble the team again when it’s time but we will need more Reapers next time. The flyover by our satellite suggests the facility is huge and will require careful planning to infiltrate.”
“And plenty of trastacáin,” Hesar said. “I’ll need to have the lab start stockpiling it.”
“Indeed,” Alexandru agreed. He looked at Coulter. “Anything else we need to discuss?”
“Not that I can think of,” Coulter replied. He looked around the table at each of the Reapers who shook their heads. He turned to Skylar. She too shook her head.
“Then Fallon and his lady-wife can return to the Island for now,” Constantine said. He gave Fallon a considering look. “Will you be joining the team for the North Korean mission?”
Fallon shrugged. “Doubtful,” he said. “Keenan wants me with her.”
“Can’t she come along as your Extension?” Skylar challenged.
“No,” Fallon said, aiming a hard look her way.
“Humpf,” the Banshee said and swung her silver gaze to Laci. “And you?”
“My life-mate and I will remain here,” Laci replied.
Skylar pursed her lips but said nothing more.
“Then if there is nothing else, Sorn and I will return to Tearmann. I have an interview this afternoon and he has a baginis to help capture.” At Sorn’s groan, the Ridge Lord shot him a warning look. “That is your job, Reaper.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sorn said.
“And today is the day you meet her,” Alexandru said.
“Meet who? I’ve already met that infernal baginis.”
“Not her. Today you meet your life-mate.”
That got Sorn’s attention and he shot up from the table. “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, eyes dancing. “Let’s go!”
Epilogue
Coulter sighed and stretched his hands behind his head, lacing the fingers together at the nape of his neck. The lovely woman whose tight mouth was wrapped around his cock with enough suction to strip the brass off a doorknob was gazing at him through her lashes. Her audacious wink made his grin widen.
“You are very good at that, Joy,” he said.
The main receptionist of the Exchange released his shaft with a loud pop of her lips. “We aim to please,” she said then drew him deep into her mouth once more.
“Thank you, Father-God,” he mouthed silently, knowing who he had to thank for the relief he was getting.
“You are most welcome, Reaper.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts!” another voice hissed in his mind. He ignored Her.
He couldn’t have the woman he wanted but he had been given one with whom he worked well. The Banshee had proven to be more than a good Extension. She was fast becoming his only ally at the Exchange. Not a friend—and most likely never would be—but a pleasant enemy.
He drew in a breath as his release began gathering in the head of his cock. Joy was lapping at him as though he were a bowl of cream and that hot little mouth was doing wicked things to the rest of his shaft and tickling his balls from time to time.
It might not be the mouth he wanted upon him but it was an eager mouth.
It might not be the naked body of the woman he loved but it was a receptive body intent on giving him pleasure.
He wasn’t a greedy man. He wasn’t a player. One woman at a time was enough for him and Joy was eagerly providing just that.
As the climax burst from him Dixon Coulter thought life was as good as it would ever get for him.
But that was okay.
It could have been worse had not the Father-God stepped in.
Shuddering as the last drops of cum were milked from him, he sighed deeply. Sometimes life took turns you never saw coming until you were forced to skid into them.
And that was okay too.
He lifted his head and stared down into Joy’s happy face. She swept her tongue over her lips.
“Your turn,” he said.
About Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Charlee is the author of over eighty books. She was married 43 years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, who passed away in 2009. She is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, the proud grandmother of Preston and Victoria and the giddy grandmother of great-granddaughter Amber Dawn. She is the reluctant house mother to seven obnoxious felines she believes are alien infiltrators from the planet Kys'r'azz Prime. A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia and now lives in the Midwest.
Charlee welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
30 Days to Syn
BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn
BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction II anthology
Dancing on the Wind
Ghost Wind
HardWind
In the Arms of the Wind
Journey of the Wind
Kiss of the Wind
Passion’s Mistral
Prince of the Wind
Shades of the Wind
Shadowlord
WesternWind: Reaper’s Justice
WesternWind 1: WyndRiver Sinner
WesternWind 2: Reaper’s Revenge
WesternWind 3: Prime Reaper
WesternWind 4: Tears of the Reaper
WesternWind 5: Her Reaper’s Arms
WesternWind 6: My Reaper’s Daughter
WesternWind 7: Embrace the Wind
WesternWind 8: BlackMoon Reaper
WesternWind 9: Dark Reaper
WesternWind 10: Sins of the Reaper
WindVerse 1: Pleasure’s Foehn
WindVerse 2: Secrets of the Wind
WindVerse 3: Ardor’s Leveche
WindVerse 4: Prisoners of the Wind
WindVerse 5: Phantom of the Wind
WindVerse 6: Hunger’s Harmattan
WindVerse 7: Craving’s Chinook
WindVerse 8: Emperor of the Wind
WindVerse 9: WindChaser
WindVerse 10: Catch the Wind
WindVerse 12: Reaper’s Bounty
WindVerse 13: Guardian of the Dragon
WindVerse 14: Yearning’s Samiel
&nb
sp; WindVerse 15: Captive of Her Heart
WindWorld: Desert Wind
WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco
WindWorld: Longing’s Levant
WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin
WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian
WyndRaider
Print books by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn
BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
Dancing on the Wind
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction II anthology
Fated Mates anthology
Ghost Wind
HardWind
In the Arms of the Wind
Kiss of the Wind
Passion’s Mistral
Windverse 1: Pleasure’s Foehn
Windverse 7: Craving’s Chinook
WesternWind 1: WyndRiver Sinner
WesternWind 2: Reaper’s Revenge
WesternWind 8: BlackMoon Reaper
WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco
WindWorld: Longing’s Levant
WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin
WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
A Reaper’s Love
ISBN 9781419991714
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A Reaper’s Love Copyright © 2014 Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover design by Kelly A. Martin
Cover photography by CURAphotography, luminaimages, carlo dapino
Electronic book Publication May 2014
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.