Page 36 of Reaper's Hunt

I have absolutely no idea what that has to do with anything as Dante just sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s never about serving the country or protecting citizens, Selene. I told you we’ve all got our heads screwed on weird. I like the chase, finding someone, putting a puzzle together. It’s why I worked as a profiler, not a detective.” He points at Malik. “Selene, if you haven’t already realized, I kind of like the darkness.”

Wonderful. “I need some time to figure out all this bullshit. We’ll see each other Monday and you can save me from Harley.” Dante’s expression softens and I know I can’t deal with whatever apology he’s about to spin. It also doesn’t matter. “I’m not mad, Dante. I just don’t know how to feel. You said you were dreaming of this moment, but you weren’t the only one. I’ve wondered every goddamn day how you’d react when you found out I’m the Reaper, but you’ve already known. And I just… it’s like a fantasy that’s supposed to stay there, locked away, but somehow it became reality. It’s a lot to wrap my head around.”

Dante closes the distance between us, dragging me into a passionate kiss, his fingers stringing into my damp hair before letting me go. “Know that I want you, princess and however I can get you, I’ll bask in that opportunity.” His voice deepens, a hint of honey edging his words. “And I’ll still fuck you just as hard as you need me to, regardless of where this leaves us.”

He chuckles as he kisses me again, Malik stealing me for one of his own. It’s a lot more tender than anything that happened last night, the both of them leaving me in a silence I don’t know what to do with.

“Coffee, Selene. We need coffee,” I tell myself, throwing myself into the task of running the coffee pot until I have a steaming pot of mud in my hands. By the time I get back to my bedroom to hide from the world, I’m once again interrupted by my mysterious caller.

You look freshly fucked. I will admit that they make a good team.

Fucking hell.

You watching me is fucking creepy.

Even Malik asks for permission. I reach up and caress my tit, running my finger over the bandaged cut beneath my shirt. I really shouldn’t have liked that as much as I did.

I think you kind of get off on it, Doe. Don’t bullshit me.

Heat creeps up the back of my neck as I remember last night and then again this morning. The thrill of being exposed was like a hit of a drug that I’m now craving.

Do you need something?

I chew on my bottom lip, parking my ass on the edge of the bed before typing another reply.

I feel like I should be giving you a time limit or something on your next move.

You could, but I wouldn’t follow it. I’m the cat, remember?

Now, go check your mailbox. I left something for you.

What is it?

It would ruin the surprise. Be a good girl and go get it. I’m sure you’ll love it. Have a great Saturday.

God, this man gets on my nerves. I stalk toward my front door and yank it open, leaning out to rustle through the little box hanging on the wall, my hand closing around something hard, rough. It’s a rock with a single “A” carved into it. I turn it over, frowning because it’s nothing special.

I can’t get back to my room fast enough to text him.

What the fuck is this for?

I’m hurt that you don’t remember.

I call him but it goes straight to voicemail. Figures that the man fucking me over would be playing on his rules, not mine. The problem is that I don’t like his brand of crazy. Malik is unpredictable but fun. This guy has rules I don’t understand and does things that don’t make sense.

Because every serial killer dreams of getting a rock from their mysterious stalker.

Not.

Ronan

Sprawledoutinmyoffice chair, I try to put all the pieces together because there’s too many parts and not enough answers. Years ago, I told Dante I didn’t give a shit about his mystery woman, the one who consumed his every thought, the one I’ve been secretly in love with as he described her from head to toe. He gave me abstract descriptions, never giving me the color of her eyes or her hair. I knew about her snark and sass.

For years, she was just spiced coconut to me and I could live with that fantasy.

But now she’s real and it’s fucking with my work because I have questions and no answers.

I pulled two other fuckers down into the basement last night because one of them actually said Selene’s name. That’s the closest we’ve gotten to an answer but he didn’t end up talking before I shot him in the face. He started describing all of the vile things he’d do to her beforeandafter he’d kill her and I couldn’t be bothered. The other hasn’t said a word so I left him down there, hoping that a few hours in the darkness would make him more talkative.

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