Page 19 of Reaper's Pack

Declan’s irritable huff had me rolling my eyes, big and overexaggerated, just for him, so he knew what an absolute child he was being about all this. Just as he opened his mouth, courage swelling along the invisible tether between us, Hazel gasped in horror.

“Knox!”

I scrambled for the remote and muted the television, the air crackling as it always did before a bout kicked off between our reaper and our alpha. Hazel ripped the tablet from Knox’s hands, yanking out the headphone cord in the process. Moans and groans and skin slapping suddenly echoed throughout the room, and Hazel stabbed at the screen, silencing it just as swiftly.

Unfazed by her outrage, Knox tugged the earpieces down so that the large leather headphones coiled around his neck, his sea of wild black hair clamped beneath.

“Perhaps you can explain the nuances to me,” he said dryly, “but are humans required to urinate on their mates?”

“Oh my God.” Hazel tapped around the tablet with a trembling finger, shaking her head. “The internet is so vast, one of the greatest resources humankind has ever seen, but trust a man to go straight for the porn.”

“You told us to study humanity,” Knox drawled, his smirk immune to her withering look. Declan rearranged himself on the couch to peer back with me, both of us watching the scene unfold from across the room next to the cracked windows, the half-full bookcases.

“What’s porn?” my packmate asked, his innocence almost endearing. Hazel’s blush sharpened, and she cleared her throat.

“It’s nothing—”

Knox snorted. “That wasn’t nothing, I can assure you.”

“Actually,” I said, fingers flying across my own tablet—for the internet was a vast and invaluable resource, after all. “Porn, short for pornography, is a print or visual material containing explicit—”

“It’s not relevant!” Hazel snapped. “You guys aren’t here to watch porn.”

“You see, I beg to differ,” I said, lazily scrolling through an article listing the top ten free pornography websites at my disposal. “Sexuality is a prominent part of the psyche for all creatures.”

“Except for angels,” Knox added with a scoff. “Celibate bastards.”

“Tell me, Hazel…” She flushed bright pink again when I said her name, for besides Declan, we said it so rarely. I rather enjoyed saying her name because it flustered her—and not because I savored the taste of sweet alyssum on my tongue as I enunciated every syllable. With her full attention on me, I locked and tossed my tablet aside, lifting a curious, suggestive eyebrow. “Does Death fuck?”

Her gorgeous mouth opened and closed a few times. Did she ever consider the fact that her horseman employer might have a sexual appetite? Could he even touch a lover without killing them? Certainly worth a bit of research, if only to satisfy the morbid curiosity now blustering about inside me.

“You guys are ridiculous,” the reaper said at long last, her words slow and deliberate, like she was trying very hard to stay civil. “Just study like you’re supposed to.” She held up a hand, eyes flashing dangerously when my lips parted, about to purr something lecherous at her. “And not porn. Study behavior. If a soul dies during sex, it’s not like they’ll still be having sex when we reap them, okay?”

My silent smirk and Knox’s cool chuckle were the nails in her coffin. Jaw clenched, the lines of her heart-shaped face sharp and annoyed, Hazel turned on the spot and stormed out, announcing that she would be back for lunch. I pushed my sleeve back to check the wristwatch I’d found on my bedroom’s nightstand this morning. Lunch was always at noon, on the dot. Three hours to go. As always, she’d leave us to our own devices until then.

Where did she go in the mornings? Did she attend to work—or pleasure?

One of these days I’d root out all the gory details.

One of these days, I’d find a way around her wards.

Until then, I tracked her and her routine, from which she seldom varied. Gone in the morning, but not before feeding us breakfast, back for lunch. Training in the afternoon. Dinner. The nights in this old manor were quiet; I’d found her sitting in her quarters a few nights ago, staring at the wall, scythe across her lap, expression somehow both vacant and aching.

Like one of these electronics on sleep mode.

I hadn’t shared that particular incident with the others just yet, not until I knew what to make of it.

But I much preferred her like this, animated and vibrant. At least her fire didn’t make me feel… off.

“That was uncalled for,” Declan remarked tersely after the little click-click-click of her shoes disappeared downstairs. “Clearly sex makes her uncomfortable… You didn’t need to push her.”

I snorted and unmuted the television. “Puppy love.”

“Being a decent hellhound is not puppy love,” Declan snapped, his frustration simmering through our bond. We both glanced back when Knox chuckled again, not coolly or dryly this time, but affectionately, a sound reserved for Declan and Declan alone. After all, Knox and I respected each other, loved each other, but we were brothers. Near equals. Confidants. Declan had a way to go before he reached that level in the pack dynamic.

The pup still needed to prove himself.

“Puppy love indeed,” our alpha mused, and Declan threw his hands in the air with a low growl. My packmate crawled across the couch and snatched the remote from my hand, then cranked up the volume, the humans all friends again on the show and taking shots together. He then settled back in his seat with a huff, arms crossed, stewing.

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