Soul Screamers, Volume 1

Sophie didn’t understand what had happened the night her mother died. My cousin had awakened from what we’d told her was a simple loss of consciousness due to shock—but was actually her own temporary demise—to find her mother dead on the floor, and me holding a heavy cast-iron skillet like a baseball bat.

Though the coroner had said Aunt Val died of heart failure, Sophie remained convinced that I was somehow responsible for her mother’s death. But I couldn’t really blame her, considering how confusing and scary her life had recently become. My cousin had no idea that the rest of her family wasn’t human, or that the world contained anything more dangerous than the ordinary criminals on the FBI’s most-wanted list. But she knew there was something we weren’t telling her, and she resented us all for that.

She knew better than to blame me openly, or to even throw a hostile word my way on family dinner nights, but at school it was open season on Kaylee. And Nash wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

A metal clang rang out from the kitchen, and I laughed. I couldn’t help it. My father wasn’t much of a cook, but he was really trying.

“What’s for dinner?” Nash’s thumb stroked the back of my hand, sending shivers of anticipation through me.

“Lasagna and bagged salad.”

“Sounds good.” The browns and greens in his eyes swirled lazily, wickedly. “And I already know what I want for dessert....” He leaned forward and his lips met mine, softly at first. Then eagerly.

I tilted my head for a better angle and kissed him back, loving the feel of his lips on mine, his hand at the back of my neck. My fingers found his chest, trailing lightly over his shirt to feel the firmness beneath.

My heart raced, adrenaline pulsing through me in a steady, charged rhythm, leaving my limbs heavy, my body eager. My mouth opened beneath Nash’s, and he moaned. The sound of his need skimmed lightly over my skin like a shadow given form, warming me as it slid down my neck, over my collarbones, and between my breasts to burn deep inside me.

He pulled me onto his lap and I crossed my ankles at his back, holding us tightly together while his lips moved over my neck. I could feel what he wanted through both layers of denim separating us, and my head swam with the knowledge that he was excited by me.

Nash Hudson could have had just about any girl he wanted—and he’d already had more than a few—but he was with me.

It’s because you’re a bean sidhe, some traitorous voice spoke up from deep inside me as I tangled my fingers in a handful of his thick brown hair. You’re a novelty. New prey to chase. But once he’s truly caught you, the game will be over, and he’ll move on to the next hunt.

And I’d have no one to help me control my wail.

No. Nash wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t help me help Addison if he was just trying to get my pants off. I wasn’t that much of a catch, and there were easier ways to get laid, especially for him. And he hadn’t even really pushed the issue.

Not that much, anyway.

Nash pulled my head down until our mouths met again, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and shoved my doubts aside. His hands found my hip, squeezing as our kiss intensified. Deepened. His fingers traveled up gradually as his lips slid down my chin and over my neck, singeing a path toward my shoulder. My head fell back, my mouth open, each breath slipping in and out silently as I concentrated on the pleasure of his skin on mine.

He pushed aside the neckline of my T-shirt, and his lips closed over the point of my shoulder, sucking gently. Nibbling just a little. My hand tightened around his biceps. Not stopping him. Not urging him. Just…waiting.

I inhaled softly as his other hand slid up my side, under my shirt. He kissed my shoulder again, his lips hot against my flesh, and his thumb brushed the underside of my right breast. My breath hitched, my heart pounding as infant flames of longing licked lower, deeper.

My skin felt flushed, my body pulsing with sudden awareness, impulsive craving....

“Don’t stop on my account.”

I jumped, and Nash leaned away from me so fast my head spun, my skin suddenly cold in his absence. “Damn it, Tod!” he snapped as I straightened my shirt, my cheeks flaming.

Avoiding the reaper’s eyes, I climbed off Nash and pushed my bedroom door the rest of the way closed; my dad probably wouldn’t hear Tod, but he could definitely hear the other half of the conversation. I glared at my uninvited guest. “If you don’t learn to knock like regular people, I swear I’ll…tell your boss you’re abusing your reaper skills to pursue a life of voyeurism and debauchery.”

Tod shot us a wry grin. “He already knows.”

I huffed and sank onto the bed with Nash, relaxing into him as his arm went around my waist. “What’s up? And make it fast. My dad’s home.” And as grateful as he was to Tod for helping save Sophie, my father wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of me hanging out with a reaper, or—as he called them—one of death’s minions.

And honestly, sometimes neither was I.