Page 36 of Paris and the Reaper

“I know they’re not blood related, but the vibe is definitely siblings.”

“Oh yeah, one hundred percent. Some folks are just on the same wavelength, you know? Connected, like they’re destined to be in each other’s lives.”

Sounded familiar, especially about Paris’s two best friends. He squeezed his friend’s hand. “I’m so happy you and Jason are official now.” Kai’s cheeks heated, a shy smile turning up the corners of his lips. In all the ups and downs of the past two weeks, their happily ever after was a highlight. “I was getting tired of living in a constant state of would-you-two-just-kiss.”

Kai laughed out loud, until he turned a mischievous, Jason-like smile on him. “Is that what you and Mac were doing before I showed up at the cabin?”

Paris’s own cheeks heated. “We were just dancing.” Close in each other’s arms, the warmth of Mac’s skin against his own, Mac’s hand cupped around the side of his neck, the kiss that had almost happened then.

“But you want to be kissing?”

The kiss that had happened yesterday morning, that had lived rent-free in his head the past day and a half, replayed again, and Paris covered his face with his hands, groaning in frustration. “More than anything,” he admitted, through his fingers. “But it’s complicated. He’s a reaper, and I’m just a human.”

Kai rubbed a hand over his back. “You’re notjustanything, Paris.”

He dropped his hands and spread one over his chest, over where his own heart beat for someone, truly, for the first time. But it wasn’t the first time for Mac. “He’s got a hole here, Kai, and I don’t know if I or anyone can ever fill it.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to. Maybe you’re supposed to make your own place there.”

NINETEEN

It wasa good thing Mac’s kitchen was huge because everyone was in it this evening. Some of the team had returned last night, more had trickled in throughout the day, and the remainder were expected back any time now, including Mac and Liam. Rena and the kids were up from the mansion, Jason and Kai were up from the lake where Jason had been recovering, and Mary and Icarus had emerged from the barrel room where a handful of returning pack members had needed medical attention. All in all, a full house, with Cherry and Abernathy—and Jason, especially—making the meal Paris was attempting to prepare a challenge. Mostly the good kind, until Jason conjured up a ball of fire to “put a little char” on the homemade garlic bread Paris had just pulled from the oven, at which point the chef put his foot down.

Paris swatted his friend’s big biceps and hip checked him toward the end of the massive island. “I love you, buddy, but you have got to get out from behind here, or Mac’s not gonna have a mansion to come home to.”

“Aww, come on, Paris,” he whined. “Let me flamethrower it.” He draped his massive body over the back of Paris’s, his longarms dangling over his shoulders, glowing hands palms up in front of them.

“What’s a flamethrower?” Cherry asked from where she sat on the other side of the island beside Kai.

Paris could feel Jason’s grin against his cheek. “Me!”

“Jason!” he, Kai, and Rena all chided... to absolutely no avail.

If Mac reminded him of a domestic cat sometimes, then Jason was the epitome of a puppy, one of those big blond breeds that liked to throw itself into walls while endlessly chasing a ball. Good natured, carefree fun until said wall gave way. Or until Jason lit the pot holders on Paris’s hands on fire, and Paris had to fling them to the floor and stomp the flames out.

“Oops,” Jason said, grinning as he unwound from around Paris and stole the charred heel of the bread.

Paris hung his head back on a heavy sigh, dramatics turned up to Icarus levels, and everyone laughed, as he’d intended; the antics were good for lifting spirits, including his own. Food would do the same. He wisely waited until Jason was safely across the room before pulling the bubbling vegetable and cheese lasagna out of the oven. He’d just gotten the pans on the trivets and recovered in foil, holding ready until the rest of the team arrived, when Mary called from the hallway opening. “Hey, Paris, can I borrow you for a second?”

“Sure.” He untied his apron, tossed it on the island, and wagged a finger at Jason as he crossed the room. “No more touching.”

“No promises,” he said with a wink from between a giggling Cherry and Abernathy.

“That’s the trio of trouble right there,” he said to Kai and Rena.

“We’ll keep them in line,” Rena assured him as she slid off her stool and took up kitchen guard duty. “That lasagna looks too good to end up on the floor.”

Paris had to agree, the sweet potatoes, beets, and butternut squash creating layers that reminded him of the sunset he’d painted the other day. He hoped it tasted as good as it looked, once they got a chance to dig in. For now, he followed Mary into the parlor at the front of the house where Icarus, in combat boots, patchwork jeans, and a strappy tank, waited at the poker table by the corner window, his blue gaze fixed on the driveway out front. She slid into the chair behind the open laptop, beside her brother, and Paris claimed the one across from them. “Did you find something?” he asked.

“Prepare yourself,” she said, then turned the laptop to face him. The warning should have been enough—he knew to expect the worst at this point—but the worst still took his breath away. Like at the ridge, the altar in the silent video had been reduced to rubble, though not as charred as the other crime scene. Fresher when the video had been taken. Blood still soaked the ground, witness corpses smoldered, and a pile of bones smoked atop the broken altar. Bones that could have been Paris at a different altar if not for Adam, Mac, and the rest of the team that had rescued him. He glanced away and swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “That’s definitely a giant’s altar,” he said. “The Stick?”

“Yes,” Mary replied. “Likely from the seventeenth. A source sent me this video.”

He shifted his gaze to Icarus, whose brows had furrowed. “Not your team on the scene?”

“No,” Mary answered for him. “I didn’t want to add this to their plate. Or this...” She rotated the laptop back around, then after a few keystrokes, turned it back to Paris. “This is arial footage of the Huimen Enclave.”

“One of the thin spots we talked about the other day.”

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