“Don’t worry, sweets. You aren’t the only one who hates me. You’re just another in the line.”
His voice sounded—sad. Did the Reaper truly get sad? She looked back at him and saw that he’d wrapped the towel around his hips.
“I’m used to others fearing me—and hating me. That’s nothing new.”
Now she was feeling bad for him. “Cass—”
“We should get some sleep. We’ll be heading out on a plane in a few hours.”
Right. Because he still planned to turn her over to Luke and, yet, there she was, actually feeling sorry for the guy. Without another word, they headed out of the bathroom, and then he dropped the towel and climbed into bed.
She kept standing.
Cass patted the mattress next to him. “You can stand all night or you can sleep here.”
Not a gentleman. “And you wonder why women aren’t jumping into your hands.”
But at least those hands were covered in gloves once more. She narrowed her eyes on the gloves in question. “Those will stay on all night, right?”
“Yes,” he gritted out. “They will.”
“Good. They’d better.” Then she crawled over him and took the empty spot on the bed. He was under the covers so she made a point of staying on top of them. As soon as she dropped her head on the pillow, he turned out the lamp.
They were immediately plunged into darkness.
And she was far, far too aware of Cass lying next to her. She could practically feel him. He was warm and way too big and the guy took up more than his fair share of the mattress. If she moved just another inch, she’d be touching him. Not going to happen. Amber rolled away from him, giving the Reaper her back.
“Why does Luke want you?”
She should have known he’d get back to that. “I told you already, I took something of his.”
“Maybe if you give it to me…maybe Luke will let you go. I can give whatever you took back to him, instead of trading you.”
It’s not that easy. “You’re offering to let me go?”
Silence. He sure seemed to like silence.
“Thought so,” Amber muttered as she punched her pillow. More silence. They were lying in bed, inches apart, and he was naked. They’d been having one hell of a make-out session before sanity had reasserted itself and he’d jumped into the shower.
What if sanity hadn’t come back?
Amber knew she had to watch her bad boy weakness. It could not come into play again. Because the Reaper? She feared he’d take everything she had to give…and then he’d still turn his back on her in the end. Men couldn’t be trusted. No one could be trusted.
Luke and Leo had taught her that long ago.
The clock on the bedside glowed at her, the bright digits seeming to mock her. Sleep had never seemed farther away. “So…you’re a Reaper.”
He moved in the bed, and the mattress dipped. Her body inched toward him.
“Yeah, I’m a Reaper.”
“You…kill with a touch.” She’d like to be clear on the rules regarding his power.
“It’s one of the things I can do, yes.”
She rolled toward him. Shock rocked through her. In the dark, his eyes glowed.
“I have a few more talents,” he added in that deep rumbly voice of his.
I just bet you do. “The power is focused in your hands? I mean, other parts of your body can touch me—you kissed me—but it didn’t hurt.”
He stared at her.
“Just your hands,” she said again. Important point to know.
“Just my hands. It’s called the Death Touch for a reason.”
Okay… “So why hasn’t someone cut off your hands?” The question tumbled from her and she wanted to wince, but she didn’t because they lived in the paranormal world. The kill or be killed world. And cutting off appendages? It happened with paranormals. It happened a lot.
She knew that from personal experience. Her shoulders seemed to burn.
“Someone did cut off my hands.”
Her mouth seemed to go dry.
“I was six the first time they did it. I was tied up, and my hands were sliced right off.”
Nausea burned in her stomach.
“But they grew back.” He laughed—a dark, rough sound. Evil. “They always come back. You think my enemies haven’t tried to stop my power? They can’t. My hands regenerate. I’m the last of my kind, so that means I’m the most powerful. My enemies wanted to wipe out all of the Reapers, but they couldn’t. I still fucking stand.”
She found herself reaching out to him in the dark. Another weakness I have. Because she wasn’t just evil on the inside. She wasn’t just drawn to things that were bad.
She had this urge to—to help. To comfort. It was always there, eating away at her. Good and bad, opposites inside of her. One constantly fighting for supremacy over the other.
Amber touched his chest. I was six the first time they did it. “You must have been very afraid.”
“You shouldn’t touch me right now. The shower didn’t help.”
Her hand lingered on his chest. “You were only six…” He wouldn’t have just been afraid. He would have been terrified. Amber wanted to keep comforting him, but her hand moved away. Her fingers fisted. “What happened to the people who hurt you?”
“The same thing that always happens to those who come after me…I killed them.”