Reaper's Justice

by Sarah McCarty

  She fussed with the folds of her skirt. Arranging them to hide stains in the once-fine material. Folding and tugging until the tears in the fabric were aligned in the manner which, he recognized, meant she was struggling for calm. How much did she know?

  He looked at Blade. Blade looked at him. Addy rolled her eyes and put her hand to her shoulder where he’d bitten her. “I’ve seen that look before.”

  “What look?” Blade asked.

  “The one that says the men want to talk without the risk of upsetting the women present.”

  “I can see there’s going to be a downside to you being raised by your cousins.” Isaiah tossed the pelt off his legs, and then immediately yanked it back. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

  Addy didn’t even blink. “There was nothing left to save, and I don’t consider being raised by my cousins as a downside.”

  Blade chuckled. “Logical and smart.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Shut up.”

  Blade’s smile never slipped, but he picked up a small pail and held it out. “Addy, would you please get some shaving water for Isaiah?”

  Addy stood and took the pail. The white of her petticoats showed thorough the gashes in her skirt. Black stitching held together the rips in the top. “I’ll be right back.”

  That warning was directed at Blade.

  Blade waited until she was a good twenty feet down the path before saying, “Translated, that means we won’t have much time to talk.”

  His beast growled. Isaiah echoed the sentiment. “You two seem to have gotten very chummy over the last two days.”

  “It would be a waste of time we don’t have for you to be jealous, Guardian.”

  “Why?”

  Blade shrugged and tossed him a pair of pants. “She doesn’t want me, and that’s not a woman a Reaper can influence.”

  Good. “Why don’t we have time to waste?”

  “With word out that you broke the law in regard to consorting with human women—”

  “Thanks to you.”

  Blade nodded. “Some information it pays to control.”

  “So they could come after me faster?”

  Blade met his gaze. “So they’d know where I stand on the issue.”

  Blade had tried to alter the law. For him. Shit. If anyone could change Council law by simply voicing his displeasure, it was Blade. A spark of hope flared. “And?”

  And died just as quickly as Blade let out a long breath. “They’re a bullheaded bunch.”

  Isaiah slowly pulled on his pants, absorbing the possible implications. “They sent you to kill me?”

  “You know I don’t belong to the council.”

  Yes. He did know. The newly formed council would have loved to have Blade—the oldest known Reaper—as a member, but Blade preferred the title of Rogue to Guardian.

  “But someone is coming.”

  “Yes.”

  Isaiah buttoned the fly. “What about Addy?”

  “They don’t know about her change, but when they do . . .” Blade shrugged and checked one of the rabbits before turning it on the skewer. “The law says she has to die with you, but that might change when they find out you were successful in making her both Reaper and mate. That had not been considered possible.”

  No it hadn’t. Hell, he still didn’t believe it. “Shit.”

  Blade nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  “What does Addy know?”

  “Nothing about the council.”

  “And about her . . . situation?” Shit, again. He didn’t even know what to call it.

  “She knows she’s a Reaper.”

  Isaiah ducked out of the lean-to. “Why the hell did you tell her?”

  “I didn’t directly. Apparently, she’s the type to eavesdrop when she’s dying and then has the inconsideration to remember what was said when she gets well.”

  “That was inconsiderate.” Not to mention inconvenient. He would have preferred to have told her himself, once he found out what being a Reaper meant to her.

  “I told her to come to you with her questions.”

  That explained the skirt folding. “Does she believe it?”

  “She watched your wounds heal, so if she doesn’t believe yet, she’s got a good head start.”

  “I guess I’ll go talk to her.”

  “That might be a good idea.” Blade tossed a packet to him. Isaiah caught it. A woodsy scent wafted up from the parcel. The distinctive scent was a strange choice for a Reaper who preferred to blend in rather than stand out. “You might want to have that bath first. You do stink.”

  “That bad?”

  “Even a human would smell you coming.”

  That was bad. Isaiah stopped before he left the encampment. “Just out of curiosity, why did you refuse to join the council?”

  Blade fed a couple sticks to the fire. “Could be, I’m just a contrary cuss.”

  “Or?”

  For a minute he didn’t think Blade would answer, and then the other man shrugged and stabbed the last stick into the flames. “I simply believe, until we know what we are and what we’re capable of, any creation of laws is premature.” He looked up at Isaiah. “Like the one the Council created that says you have to die for falling in love.”

  WELL, how the hell could they have known a Reaper could fall in love?

  Isaiah stood hip deep in the cold water of the pond, rubbing the soap over his body. The scent was pleasing, fine soap a pleasure he’d never enjoyed before. But as Blade had so brutally pointed out, there were a lot of things in life that Reapers hadn’t experienced. And he was right about something else. Creating laws in the midst of that much ignorance wasn’t smart. But changing those laws now? Isaiah shook his head. That would be a battle, and would not be accomplished before the Guardians came hunting for him. And Addy.

  The beast snarled, and for a brief moment, he embraced it, eyeing the trail south. When they came, blood would flow, but it wouldn’t be Addy’s. His claws cut through the soap. He would guarantee it. Life was full of surprises, he was learning. He hadn’t expected to survive his wounds. He hadn’t expected Addy to survive her conversion. He hadn’t expected to find an ally in Blade. And the council would not expect his primal need to defend his mate.

  Shit. His mate. His sweet Addy. A Reaper. He had no idea what that meant for him to have a mate, even less what it meant for her, and she was waiting for him to explain it to her.

  Closing his eyes, he willed the beast back. Damn it, things couldn’t get more complicated. Picking up the soap, he looked at the gouged bar as he rubbed it over his chest in quick circles. At this rate, it wasn’t going to last long. Nothing fine lasted long under the beast.

  “It won’t last very long,” Addy said from the bank.

  “You reading my mind now?”

  She snorted. “There isn’t that much to read at the moment.”

  Did that mean she could or couldn’t? “So what are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking you’re trying to decide how you can get out of talking to me.”

  “You’re good.”

  She shrugged and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Three older cousins, remember?”

  “Yeah. Plus Blade gave me a heads-up. For a man with a reputation of being closemouthed, he talks too much.”

  “I like him.”

  “You would.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Didn’t you have enough of a fight in town? Why do you want to start another with me, here?”

  “I don’t, but couldn’t you have waited until after I finish my bath?”

  The conversation could but this couldn’t. She held up a large piece of thick cotton. “I brought you a towel.” She motioned to the bank to the right. “And a clean shirt of Blade’s.”

  “Thank you.” After carefully cleaning the area around her feet, Addy sat on the bank and drew her knees up, looking as if she planned to take root. He slowly
rubbed the soap over his stomach. “Now what are you doing?”

  She rested her chin on her knees. “Waiting for you to get done.”

  “What if I want privacy?” he stalled.

  “You’re not going to get it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m afraid you’ll run away and leave me here.”

  “I wouldn’t leave you.”

  Her eyes never left his hand as he ran the soap over his groin under the water. She licked her lips. “Apparently, I’m no longer the sweet little thing you liked to protect.”

  The soap popped out of his hand. He grabbed it before it was lost. Son of a bitch, he would never understand a woman’s mind. Dunking underwater, he wet his hair. As soon as he broke the surface, he started scrubbing.

  “In case you’re wondering,” she pointed out, “this is one of those delicate moments in a relationship where it can all blow up in your face.”

  He shook his head. There was no one like Addy anywhere, and she was his.

  “I see. Could you give me a hint as to what you want me to say?”

  “I would, if I could.”

  Great.

  “What does it mean, my being a Reaper?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What does it mean for you, being a Reaper?”

  That he didn’t want to tell her, but as she sat there watching him with such trust, he found the lie he’d considered dissolving, and the flat truth coming out instead.

  “It’s hell.”

  She winced and her fingers fussed with her skirt. “Why?”

  This wasn’t the kind of conversation a man had while standing naked in a stream. A lot could go wrong. Addy could be shocked, run away, necessitating they start over. And once he started, he wanted it over and done. He leaned forward and ducked his head underwater, letting the water block out the world. Standing, he flung his head back and shook the water out of his hair.

  “Hand me the towel.”

  Tossing it, she muttered, “Spoilsport.”

  He caught it and wrapped it around his waist before wading to shore. The closer he got, the easier it was to see the nervousness in his woman’s eyes.

  He stopped just short of the shore. “You’ve had a lot of practice hiding how you feel.”

  She opened her mouth. He held up his hand, forestalling what she was about to say while slicking his hair back with the other. “I know, three older cousins.”

  “Three overprotective older cousins,” she corrected.

  “I’m beginning to see why.” Holding the towel, he stepped up onto the bank. Small stones pricked his feet. The fact that it didn’t hurt confirmed what he already knew. He was healed.

  “So tell me what it means for you to be a Reaper.”

  She was like a dog with a bone. “Turn your back first.” Her eyes went wide and she inched backward. He shook his head. What did she think he was going to do? He bent and picked up his clothes. Throwing the shirt over his shoulder, he shook out the pants. “I thought I’d get dressed.”

  “Sorry, I’m a little impatient.” She turned, still sitting, until her back was to him.

  “So I see.”

  “Blade wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  She sounded annoyed. He guessed he couldn’t blame her. “He told you enough.”

  “Not really. He seems to think he’s clever with his almost answers,” she informed him over her shoulder.

  “But he’s not?”

  “No. Cole does the same thing. It’s annoying.”

  Yes, it was. He stepped into the pants and pulled them up. “I agree.”

  “I’ve at least figured some things out for myself.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, you told me those giant wolves were Reapers.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve told me you’re a Reaper.”

  He buttoned his pants and pulled the shirt off his shoulder. “Yes.”

  She took a breath and pressed the fold in her skirt flat. “Are you telling me you can turn into an animal whenever you want, too?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why maybe?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She slid around. “What kind of answer is that?”

  “The kind of answer that says I don’t have an answer, and I’m guessing.”

  She held his gaze. “Look. This is unbelievable enough as it is. Either you can turn into a wolf or you can’t.”

  Despite the snap in her tone, he could see the plea in her eyes. Tell me no.

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t say anything right away, just looked at the fold she was pressing flat. Very slowly she ran her finger over the center, following the curve of her bent knee. Once, twice. “What part was the maybe?”

  “The part about changing at will.”

  Her finger stopped midpress. “Oh.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. “I don’t have much control.”

  She just kept pressing that fold as she asked, “How did you come to be a Reaper?”

  “All the Reapers I know came about the same way.”

  She frowned at the fold, changing the alignment, pressing harder, faster. “How is that?”

  He shook out the shirt and shoved his arm into the sleeve. He didn’t want to relive this. “I wasn’t the only one taken captive as a kid. There were a lot of us, and we were all brought to an underground place. None of us remember specifics, but there was a lot of pain over a long time—”

  The memory of that first violent conversion, the loss of self, shuddered through him. He tried to keep his voice flat, but something must have given him away, because Addy looked up and touched her shoulder.

  “They didn’t bite you?”

  “No. Yes.” He raked his hand through his hair. The beast snarled, gathering its power to fend off the threat. “I don’t fucking know. They . . .” Shit, he hated admitting this. “They tortured us until they broke us. There’s no one memory. Just a pile of hell.”

  She stopped pressing the fold. “No wonder you’re not afraid to die.”

  Dying would be a blessing. He stopped himself, just in time, from saying it. Not only because of who he was talking to, but because it was no longer true. He’d gained some control over the years. Of the beast, at least.

  He shoved his other arm into the shirt. “Pretty much, the beast just appeared.”

  “The beast?”

  How to explain the beast? “The beast is primitive, unruly, incredibly strong.”

  “Is that what you mean when you say they’re wolves. Is that their beast?”

  “Yes, but the beast is always there inside me, fighting for control.”

  She came up on her knees. He took a step back. “If it’s inside you, can’t you talk to it?”

  Shit. If only. “Rarely does it like what I have to say.”

  Like now. The beast wanted to press her down into the bank and fuck her. To reassert its claim. To make sure any male around knew she was his. The man wanted to keep her clean.

  She reached out. He took a step back, not trusting the beast when it crouched like that inside, waiting for its opportunity.

  Licking her lips, she pulled her hand back. “Didn’t your family come looking for you?”

  “None of us remember having family.” None of them remembered much of anything.

  “These men who took you . . .”

  “Yes.”

  “Kidnapped you . . .”

  “Yes.”

  She came to her feet. “Did you make them pay?”

  “Yes.”

  Her smile was cold.

  Reaper.

  “Good.”

  Isaiah took another step back, the pain a living thing inside. No. Not good. The beast prowled, ready to strike, needing to strike.

  Her gaze searched his. “How old were you when they took you?”

  “I told you. I don’t remember. I only know what I was told and I don’t believe much of that.”

  “I
don’t understand.”

  “They did something to our memories. Sometimes I get flashes, but I can’t tell if they’re real or just a story I heard.”

  Addy was looking at him with a strange expression. The wolf howled a protest. Hell, he didn’t know why he expected her to understand what he was saying. He didn’t understand what he was saying.

  “They hurt your mind.”

  Systematically, ruthlessly, permanently. He debated buttoning the shirt. “They were damn good at it.”

  Her fingertips grazed his sleeve. “It doesn’t show.”

  He turned away. “Thank you.”

  She went with him, her hands sliding around his chest, settling on his skin. Warm. Dainty. Pure. His cock hardened at her touch and his beast rumbled its pleasure. He removed her hands from his chest. She stepped around and put them back. His fingers closed around her wrists. She stopped him with a shake of her head.

  “Don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to touch you.”

  He yanked her hands free and held them wide. “I don’t need your pity.”

  She shook her head. Tears hovered in her eyes. For him.

  “It’s not pity.”

  The beast snarled. At him or at her? “Looks like it to me.”

  “That’s because you can’t see.”

  He saw everything. Her soft heart, her pain. The future he’d delivered her into. “What do you think I should see?”

  Not fighting his grip, she stepped forward and rested her cheek against his chest, whispering softly, “Me.”

  Ah hell. He didn’t have the strength to push her away. He let go of her hands. They went around his waist. He didn’t know what to do with his.

  She squeezed gently. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  She shook her head again. Tears eased the friction of her cheek against his chest. Damn it, she was crying. He started to push her away. The beast snarled. At him.

  She resisted the pressure. “Put your arms around me, Isaiah.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  He did. “Now what?”

  She snuggled closer. “Wait.”

  “For what.”

  “Just wait.”

  He did, breathing in her scent, counting her heartbeats, her breaths. She was calm, he realized. It was against his nature to stand still and just let things be, but this was . . . nice. The beast stopped pacing. The pain faded, and as he rested his cheek on Addy’s head, the beast calmed. A few more minutes and he felt almost peaceful.