Heaven.
His head lowered over hers. Her lips were so close to his. When he’d been trying to decide if she was human or if she was a paranormal, he’d bent close to inhale her scent. Even though his nose wasn’t nearly as strong as a shifter’s, sometimes, he could pick up the scent of another paranormal.
But then he’d gone a step beyond and he’d put his mouth on her. Not because of some BS about being able to taste whether she was paranormal or human. Just because he’d wanted to put his mouth on her. Staring at her lips right then—that plump lower lip, that sexy-bow-shaped top lip—he wanted to kiss her.
His kiss wouldn’t kill. Despite the stories out there, only his hands held the power to kill. She’d be perfectly safe if he kissed her. Or if he put his mouth on other parts of her luscious body. Oh, the things he could do to her with his mouth.
“Cass?”
Her voice had gone husky. He liked it when she said his name.
“Th-that is what Leo called you, right? Because I’d rather say Cass than Reaper—”
“My name is Cassius. Cassius Garvan.”
Her lips curled. “Cass to your friends?”
“And Reaper to my enemies.”
She stared straight into his eyes. “And to your lovers? What do they get to call you?”
Did she realize how dangerous it was to taunt him? He didn’t answer her.
Amber swallowed, and he saw the delicate movement of her throat. “Cass, look, despite the whole death-touch thing that you have going on, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”
She thought wrong.
“I mean, you helped me get away from Leo. That was solid, and I appreciate what you did.”
Were they back to that? “I don’t want your appreciation.”
A furrow appeared between her eyes. “Then what do you want? I offered to pay you before—”
“I want to taste you.” The words came out, unplanned, but truer than anything he’d said to her before. “I want your mouth beneath mine.”
Her gaze slid to his lips. Had her pupils widened? He thought they had, and her scent seemed to have deepened. But she didn’t look afraid.
She looked…curious. “Is your kiss safe?” Amber asked him.
His heart jerked hard in his chest.
“I don’t know what that crazy light was that shot from your hand. I’ve never…met a Reaper before.”
His lips hitched into a half-smile. “Generally, that’s because most people don’t live to tell that particular meet-and-greet story.”
Her eyes widened.
Fear.
He didn’t like her fear. “There aren’t many of my kind left.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Actually, as far as I know, I am the last of my kind.”
Her lips parted. “Oh. I-I’m sorry. I—I understand.” And her hand reached up, as if she were going to touch him. Willingly. It looked as if she’d give him a pat on the shoulder, but then her hand stilled, mid-air.
Every muscle in his body turned to stone. “You can touch me.”
She bit that delectable lower lip. “You sure about that?”
“It’s only my hands that have the power to kill. You can kiss me and be safe.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Amber muttered.
“You can touch me,” he continued darkly, “and be safe.” Though hardly anyone ever had touched him. Why touch Death? People feared Death too much to ever want to get close. She feared him, too. She wouldn’t trust his word. She wouldn’t— Her fingers curled around his shoulder. He felt that light touch sink beneath his skin and brush against what remained of his soul.
“Cass? I’m…I’m sorry that you’re alone. I know what that’s like.”
She had no clue.
But he couldn’t look away from her mouth. She was the first woman—the first to ever touch him so easily. He hadn’t needed to bribe her, hadn’t needed to promise her power or protection. She’d touched him to comfort him.
And she made him ache.
“Cass?”
“I want to kiss you.”
He heard the little hitch in her breathing. “No.”
His body tightened at the rejection.
“No,” she said again and her hand fell away from him. He missed that touch immediately. “No, you don’t want to kiss me. You don’t want me at all. I’m just some bounty to you, and you’re playing some dangerous game with me. But you don’t want this game, okay? You need to break the invisible cuffs or whatever the hell they are. Use the magic you talked about and set us both free.”
He couldn’t look away from her mouth. “I may have misled you.”
“Yes, I know. I just said you don’t really want to kiss me—”
“I can’t break the spell that locked the cuffs in place. They will link us for forty-eight hours, no matter what I do.” His delivery guarantee. He’d used the cuffs hundreds of times. Normally, forty-eight hours was all he needed for transport. He took in his prey, he kept the prey close, and when the forty-eight hours ended, he walked away clean.
His prey didn’t fare as easily. They often didn’t walk away at all.