Page 18 of Reaper's Hunt

My hand tightens on the phone as I do another twirl in my living room. “You’re the guy from the other night,” I growl out, thinking of the man who had me pressed up against that wall feet away from the courtyard.

“Not a chance. But I will say I was quite jealous of the way he was pressed up against you. Now, Philip Smission. Dead by midnight this Friday. Time’s ticking.”

He hangs up on me which definitely shows how much he’s controlling this game but now I’m just one step closer to digging my own grave. Fitting for someone nicknamedThe Reaper.The problem is that I’m torn between excitement and terror. Having someone find out who I am is hard to grasp, but the threat of them going to the police makes all of this exponentially worse.

I stare at the jar on the table and decide to place it back in its home on my glass wall for the time being. There’s a shift later today, and now I’ve got a whole bunch of research to do in order to kill the mayor’s son.

There’s no way this isn’t going to end up in a goddamn shitshow.

Dante

I’mbone-tired,mybodyaching in all the right ways as I step into the shower, the hot water stinging the hickies littering my chest and the finger imprints bruising my waist. Malik’s still passed out in bed, sprawled across the sheets, his dark hair a mess. The fucker won’t stay asleep long, but for now, he’s down, and I’m grateful for the quiet.

Last night was a storm, his teeth and hands tearing into me, my cock driving him into oblivion until he finally crashed. He fucked me two more times before his body finally gave out and I dragged him into my arms to sleep. Something’s messing with him worse than usual, and I need to pry it out of him today, figure out what’s got him so unhinged. But first, I’ve got a murder to solve and Selene to check on. I need to make sure she’s not drowning in whatever shit she’s stirred up.

I step out of the shower, steam curling around me, and wipe the fog from the mirror, staring at myself. The hickies bloom red and purple, a map of Malik’s hunger, and the bruises on my waist are a perfect imprint of his grip. I smirk, tracing one with my thumb, the soreness a reminder of how we fit together: broken, brutal, perfect. Snatching my phone from the nightstand, I wrap a towel around my hips and head to the bedroom. There’s a missed call from Harley and then a text from him that makes my gut twist.

The Reaper struck again.

No details, no leads, just that stark fucking sentence. It means Harley’s got nothing and Malik’s claim about saving Selene’s ass in that courtyard, pulling her from a cruiser’s sight, might actually hold water. Selene’s out there, dancing with death, and I’m stuck playing catch-up.

I dress fast and head downstairs, the house dark and quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. The kitchen smells like rich ground coffee beans and I stop dead when I see Ronan sitting at the table, smug as fuck, a mug in his hand. He’s usually passed out during the day, recovering from whatever bounty-hunting chaos he and Malik get up to, or from the late-night shifts at the bar, so this is weird. I raise an eyebrow, pouring myself a coffee. “I’ll bite,” I mumble, leaning back against the counter. “What kind of crack did you put in the coffee?”

Ronan grins, his eyes glinting with something wicked, and settles further in his chair. “No crack, just a good fucking morning,” he chuckles. “Had an absolute goddess in my office at the Notch a few hours ago. Fucked her senseless, Dante. Never had anyone take it like that.”

I sip my coffee, half-listening, until he starts describing her hair: silver, like moonlight, spilling across his desk. There’s no fucking way. “Keep going,” I say, already knowing where this is headed.

“Stormy gray eyes, this deviant little smile.” He grins. “Hips that could make a man sin, and she smelled like… fuck, florals and something else, maybe? Took everything I gave and wanted more.”

I growl, dragging a hand down my face, realizing that fate is out to fuck with me. “That’s my fucking girl,” I snap, before hurling the mug against the cabinets. It shatters, ceramic shards scattering across the counter, coffee splattering like blood. I’m not pissed at Ronan but Jesus Christ, I can’t seem to keep one thing for myself. Ronan’s eyes widen, his grin vanishing as he leans forward, hands raised.

“What did I say?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice. But I’m already pacing, my hands fisting, rage burning in my chest.

“That’s spiced coconut,” I growl out. “Silver hair, eyes all stormy, a deviant little smile, sinful hips. That’s Selene. My fucking girl.”

Ronan’s face falls, his hands dropping to the table. “I didn’t fucking know. She smelled different, not the usual scent I catch from you. I never checked up on who she was because it didn’t matter. Fuck!” He runs a hand through his curls, his jaw tightening. “It was one night, Dante. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

A sharp, bitter laugh falls from me as I focus on Ronan. “You won’t. It’s never one time with Selene. She gets in your head, under your skin. She’ll wander back, because she wouldn’t have let you fuck her the way I’m sure you did if she thought you were just a one-time thing. I know how you fuck, Ronan. All in, no holding back, everything she’s looking for.”

He knows I’m right. Selene’s a fire, a blade, a fucking addiction, and once she’s burned you, you don’t walk away. I’ve known it since we were kids, since I gave her that hammer, since I watched her become the Reaper, blood and all. She’s mine, but she’s wild and untamed. And now Ronan’s just tasted her, felt her claws, heard her screams. He’s hooked, same as me, same as Malik, and it’s going to be a fucking mess.

There’s just one thing I need to know, though. “Why did you fuck her? You don’t usually go off the rails like that. Both you and Malik have been a bit off.”

Ronan shrugs, leaning back in his chair again. “She was there, Dante, with a knife to some guy’s throat who wouldn’t take her no. Had to drag her away before she bled him all over my floor. She was looking for a hard fuck, and I was feeling like giving one. She’s a piece of work, though. I can see why you like her.”

I see the way his eyes glitter, that feral spark that tells me he didn’t just fuck her, that he tried some sick, twisted shit, and she loved it, ate it up, begged for more. Selene’s like that, a black hole of need and deviance, pulling you in until you’re lost in everything that she is. I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair, and glance at the coffee mess, knowing I’ll have to clean it up before Malik wakes and loses his shit over the chaos.

“How’s Malik?” Ronan asks, his tone shifting, like he’s testing the waters.

I smirk, despite the anger still simmering. “My ass hurts, but he’s sleeping, so I call it a win.” The bruises are a welcome reminder of last night, and I kind of love the pleasurable pain every time I twist a certain way. “And now we’ve got another dead body. Apparently, the Reaper struck again, so that’s two dead people, no suspects, and a very annoyed Harley.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t really trying to find these guys,” he teases, before chugging what’s left in his mug. “You used to be at the top of your game, Dante. The best. Now… it’s like the Reaper keeps slipping through your fingers.”

Yeah, we’re not doing that bullshit. Although, Ronan is going to figure it out at some point, probably sooner rather than later since he’s now met Selene. “Youtry finding them, then. Elusive killers who don’t want to be found. Go ahead, bounty hunter. Show me how it’s done.”

His smirk fades, his gaze trying to search my expression for answers he won’t find. “I’ll keep my eye out.” Which means he’s already started looking into it. “Go deal with Harley. I got Malik.”

“If you try to wake him up right now, he’ll have you under him in point-five seconds,” I say, picturing Malik’s feral grin, his hands pinning Ronan to the bed before he’s even fully awake. Watching Ronan when he first moved in with us was fantastic because he definitely got his dick nearly sucked more than once when Malik caught him off guard.

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