Page 23 of Reaper's Hunt

Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms, popping my hip out to show authority or whatever this stance does to Dante. It’s weird how that guy was here moments ago, pinning me in the stockroom, and now Dante’s here, like they’re circling, wolves sniffing out blood.

I don’t press it, though. There’s too many secrets to keep and I’m already juggling too much. “I’mgreat,” I snap, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Fantastic. Got fucked real hard yesterday and it was glorious. Do you need something?” Conveniently, I leave out the threatening call this morning pushing me to kill the mayor’s son. It’s got adrenaline pumping through me, a sick pep in my step despite the twisted options. I also skip mentioning my plan to seduce Smission at some point tonight or tomorrow, play the bait, and then find a way to kill him. Just another day as the Reaper.

Dante’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening at the mention of yesterday. “Don’t need anything. I was just at the precinct following up with Harley. Seems the Reaper struck again yesterday.”

My face falls as I try to portray the innocence I definitely don’t have. No one’s around us to hear Dante’s words now that Karla fucked off somewhere and the pop music is just loud enough to cover our conversation. “Two kills in twice as many days? What the fuck?”

He seems to be studying me as if he doesn’t truly believe my disbelief. “Harley thinks there might be a connection between the kills even if it’s not the same killer. We haven’t gotten anything else yet. Dinner tonight?”

Suspicion coils in my gut because Dante doesn’t do dinner. He breaks into my apartment, fucks me until I’m screaming, leaves me bruised and sated, but dinner? That’s a game and I’m not falling for it. “You don’t ask me to dinner,” I say. “You break into my house and fuck me, but you can’t do that either tonight. I have a dinner.”

His frown deepens as his eyes narrow and I can feel the possessiveness rolling off him. “With who?”

If it was a different night, I’d taunt him, goad him into thinking he’s made the choice to come fuck me the way I need him to. But tonight, I really do have plans. “Myself and a bottle of wine. Don’t come the fuck over either. That’s not an invitation.” It’s going to be like I’m in school all over again, cramming for an exam that I can only hope not to fail.

The way his gaze hardens, his expression darkening brings back the asshole Dante that I know. The caring one isn’t one I’m used to, well not since we were kids, anyway. A smirk crosses his face, that devilish aura coming back in full force. “Princess, we both know I’d come over anyway if that’s what I wanted but I’ll respect your wishes. Make sure you lock the door.”

“Bitch, I’m going to put a fucking deadbolt on it.”

“And if you think that the door is the only way to get in, then you’re not as smart as I thought.”

That just pisses me off as he steals a kiss from me and then stalks back outside. I want to yell at him but that’s just what he wants so I decide to do something else that he’d have a fit over.

Taking out my phone, I find a message from theCatch Meapp with a phone number and a kissy face next to it. Typical. But using my number is more evidence so I stay within the app and text him back, dismissing his last message.

Send me a picture.

God, this man isn’t even original. And I would send him a picture but that leaves evidence. I didn’t even put anything determinate on the app other than a picture of cleavage.

You’ll have to dream until you see me, babe

Fuck, I wish I could see you now.

And a woman’s gotta work. How about tonight?

The response comes slow and it’s not at all what I wanted.

How’s tomorrow evening? I’ll be working pretty late tonight.

I’m sure that’s a lie but I also can’t push it. I have until midnight to get this bullshit done so I’ll have to work quick. Fortunately for me, it gives me a little more time to plan.

Sounds perfect.

Wear red.

I smirk at that before pocketing my phone because yeah, by the end of that night, I’ll definitely be wearing red.

Dante

Selene’swordsaboutnotcoming over echo in my head but it’s a siren call, a challenge I’m desperately trying to ignore. She’s caught up in a new job, I can tell by the excitement brimming off of her and I don’t want to ruin that. She’ll know that I know soon enough.

I walk back toward the truck, Malik in the passenger seat looking like a whole fucking snack until I catch his bloody hands and the blissed-out look on his face. His pants are stained crimson, blood covering his lips and chin from the knife he’s currently sucking on.

My stomach lurches as I jump into the driver’s seat and look around, wondering if anyone’s been watching. I’ve never seen Malik lose his shit like this so there has to be a reason. “What the fuck is going on, babe?” I snatch the knife from him, wondering how deep the cut on his thigh is and if he stabbed himself.

He’s got this feral look as his head lolls to the side, eyes glinting with an excitement I haven’t seen in years. “My little sparrow got to me,” he purrs.

Confusion spreads in my chest because I know for a fact Malik did something stupid, probably cornered her, pushed too far but there’s no time to dig into it. He’s already leaning over the console, his bloody fingers smearing something across my lips. It takes a second to register that it’s lipstick.

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