Sins of the Soul

“I have a situation,” he said when someone answered. “Bring Roxy. The situation is female.” He was silent for a second, listening, then his lips turned in a faint smile, revealing just a hint of the crease in his left cheek. “No, not mine.” Then he hung up without even saying goodbye.

Roxy. Well, it looked as though she was about to meet Roxy Tam. She knew of her. Naphré had left the Guard a couple of years after Roxy came to them. They’d never met, but sometimes you heard things. Names. Stories. Roxy Tam was supposed to be one tough chick. And if Naphré had stayed with the Asetian Guard, they would have shared a mentor, Calliope Kane.

“Whoever you just called is going to have a heck of a hard time bringing anyone,” Naphré observed. “You forgot to give them the address.”

“They won’t need it.” Alastor stepped closer, until he stood maybe a foot away. Her gaze slid to his mouth, and unbidden, the memories of the way he’d kissed her…kissed her mouth and then—

It took her a second to gather her thoughts. “Why won’t they need my address?”

“My brothers and I have a link,” he said, his attention wholly focused on her, his accent a little more pronounced than before. “We can…sense…each other. Mostly, when one of us is in trouble.” Another step closer, almost like he were lured by an unseen line. “But also if we need to find each other in a hurry.”

“Do all soul reapers have that link? The one you share with your brothers?” She realized that she sounded breathless, felt breathless, as she waited for him to bring his weight full against her, to kiss her.

His lips pulled back to reveal white teeth, and that dimple that creased his cheek.

“Looking to find out all my secrets, pet?”

Dipping his head, he brushed his cheek against her hair and inhaled. She froze, a rabbit in a field. Stupid rabbit, just sitting there waiting for the wolf to pounce.

“If I can.” She barely got the words out. “Knowledge is power.”

“Size is power,” he whispered against her ear, resting his hands on the granite counter, caging her. “And strength. And intellect and allies. Power is not determined by only one thing.”

She turned her head just a little, just enough to catch the lobe of his ear between her teeth, and she bit him, hard enough to get his attention. Not such a stupid rabbit, after all.

He went utterly still. Then he laughed low in his throat and said, “I share that link only with my brothers.”

Of course, she had no doubt that he’d meant to tell her that all along.

He drew back and studied her. His eyes glittered. His brows lifted almost imperceptibly, like he was asking a question. By letting herself remain exactly as she was, plastered against him like caramel on a sundae, she was giving him an answer.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned in, his mouth inches from hers. She arched up, tipped her head back, aching, offering.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made her freeze. She pushed down on his forearms. He released her. But he didn’t step away. She hadn’t really expected he would.

He only watched her, expression hard, eyes heavy-lidded, as she sidled away and strode back to the living room. She couldn’t hear his footsteps, but her heightened awareness of him told her that he followed.

Marie came back into the room, and looked back and forth between them, likely sensing the tension that made the air crackle and spark. She said nothing. Alastor said nothing. And Naphré found she could think of nothing but the feel of him up against her.

“Tea?” she offered brightly, and danced away toward the kitchen before anyone could answer.

But she felt him watching her, eyes hungry, tension humming around him like a live wire.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN



Fuku wa uchi, Oni wa soto. Bring good fortune into the home and send out the demon.



—Japanese proverb

TEA FOR THREE WAS awkward, at best.

Alastor’s insistence on doing the brewing and pouring hadn’t made the entire procedure any more comfortable. “Control freak,” she’d shot at him under her breath. From the kitchen. While he was in the living room.

“Without a doubt,” he’d replied.

Damned reaper hearing.

They finished the tea—he added three teaspoons of sugar to his—and he ate the entire plate of sugar cookies she put out. Which was fine, because neither she nor Marie were interested.

When he caught her staring at him, he shrugged and said, “Sugar,” like that was supposed to explain his overboard sweet tooth. Or the way he kept so incredibly lean despite the amount of sugar he packed away. She’d seen him without his jacket, seen the way his shirt hugged his muscles and lay flat on his belly.

Thinking of that made her want to peel his clothes off, lay her hands on his skin and feel the steely strength of him.

As she piled the plates and cups on the tray, Alastor rose and went to the window. He stood leaning one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He’d put his suit jacket back on, which was likely a good thing, given the bloodstains on his shirt. She doubted Marie would be blasé about those.