Page 6 of Reaper's Hunt

Selene likes the game just as much as I do, but if Harley so much as breathes too close, I’ll break his fucking jaw. Gentleman or not, there’s a limit.

We roll up to the station, Selene already hopping out of the truck before I fully pull to a stop. We’re barely up the steps when she whirls around and pokes me in the chest. Her lip is turned up into a snarl, those glass eyes a stormy gray. “How the fuck did you get in? I know I locked the house.”

“Picked the lock. Got bored of waiting.”

Selene lets out a little growl that has my cock thickening in my pants. If I were a lesser man, I’d bend her over right here and slide right into that tight cunt. But no, I’ll wait until we’re back in the car and I’ll even let her come.

“So you just came into my apartment and then didn’t let me come? Bullshit.”

“No, your ex-boyfriend’s a drag and I couldn’t sit there another fucking moment hearing him drone on about taking you out to dinner on Friday night.” I pause, eyes locking on hers. “Which reminds me… you didn’t tell me about that.” There’s a lot of things she doesn’t tell me about and it pisses me the fuck off, but Harley is a sore spot for both of us.

For Selene, he’s a man who tried to change her, tame her. For me, he’s in my fucking way. If I didn’t have some kind of business rapport with the guy, he would have already been buried in the ground, six feet deep where no one would find him.

Her glare doesn’t waver, but then she sighs, her shoulders falling as if she’s just as tired of Harley’s pursuits as I am. “There’s nothing to tell, Dante. I’m just finding out about this date night from you.”

She pushes into the station and I follow, eyes dipping to the curve of her ass and the way her hair waves across it with every step. “When are you gonna let him know you’re not available?”

“I’ve told him plenty of times. But I like the chase.”

I mumble under my breath, too low for her to catch, “If you need someone to chase you, I’ll be the one doing it.” My hands flex, itching to grab her, to prove it right here that I’m the only person she needs for that type of excitement, but a little self-control goes a long way.

Selene stops just inside the main area and reaches up to twist her hair into a ponytail. That’s when I see a speck of blood, clinging to a strand near her ear. And just a few centimeters farther back is a little sliver of flesh beckoning for me to reveal it. In a room full of police officers, there’s no way she’s going to be able to explain that shit away.

I step up to her and reach over her shoulder before roughly tugging her hair back down, letting it fall loose again. She stiffens, her cheeks flushing as she meets my gaze.

“Decided I wanted it down,” I rasp, voice thick with everything I’m not saying.

She snorts, breaking the tension, her flush fading into that sharp-edged grin. “What, are you gonna buy me ice cream like a boyfriend would, too?”

Keeping my voice low, I lean in, eyes peeled for anyone watching. They aren’t, minding their own business, working on cases that have kept them here at this late hour. “Good girls get to come,” I breathe into her ear before heading down the hall. I swallow down the anxiety I’m trying to keep in, the weight of being in this placewithSelene creeping in.

I volunteered to be here for this meeting because I don’t want her anywhere near this mess or near law enforcement in general. She’s getting sloppy and I’ve covered her tracks more than once. She’s not perfect, but it’s gotten worse over the last few months. Like she’s losing steam, or maybe she just thinks she’s untouchable, some silver-haired goddess above the law. The last few kills scattered around Ashthorne County were a fucking mess, less than pretty, her artwork rushed, jagged, sloppy in a way that doesn’t fit her. The Reaper’s supposed to be precise, a surgeon with a scythe, not some butcher hacking away.

I check on her when I can, poke at her, bother her enough to glimpse what’s churning in that twisted head of hers. Without asking outright, though, I’m stuck guessing. This last kill, the one they’re buzzing about tonight wasn’t her. I hope. Messy, rushed, blood everywhere, no rhyme or reason. Nothing about it screams her name, but I wouldn’t put it past her to fuck with the system, to throw us all off just for the hell of it.

Harley’s office is at the back, the fucker getting promoted in the last few weeks to head detective or something. I didn’t really pay attention except for the fact that it gives me more access. I’m supposed to have been retired, rehired as a consultant, but I’ve basically turned into Harley’s lackey in exchange for access to information. I knock on the entrance to his office, the man looking up with a tired smile.

It quickly spreads into an annoying grin when his gaze locks on Selene, the man giving her a slow, deliberate once over as if he’s got a shot.Fucker. She’s mine, every scar, every sin, and he doesn’t even know the half of it.

Selene plops into the chair across from him, then grimaces, crossing her legs tight. I can only imagine how uncomfortable she is, my cum dribbling out of her, a reminder that I’ve claimed her. Even if Harley is eyefucking her at the moment.

“Did something happen?” Harley leans forward as he asks, gaze darting to me and then back to Selene. He seems genuinely concerned as to why she’s later than planned.

Selene shrugs, unbothered by his attention. “I was enjoying my evening. Got caught up in the bliss of things.”

Harley smirks, tapping a pen against his notepad. “Sure. Look, we’re questioning everyone about the murder a few doors down from the boutique. Would’ve been just after your shift Monday night.”

Her nose scrunches up as if she’s trying to determine if Harley’s stupid or not. Then she just sighs, resting back in her chair, putting up all those damn walls until her eyes are that clear, unphased color again. “If I was off, I’m not sure I’d be anywhere near that. Personally, Harley, you know I don’t fuck with people. I go home, waste away in the darkness or whatever poetic bullshit you spouted when we broke up.”

Harley groans as he stands and rounds the desk before pulling up a seat near her. I don’t like the way he reaches for her hands, but she scoots back fast, her chair scraping across the floor. Defeat flickers in his expression before he sets his hands in his lap. “Hey, you’re not a suspect. There was no reason this meeting had to happen tonight.”

He shoots me a glare but I brush it off. Selene could’ve swung by tomorrow, breezed in on her way to the boutique, but I like fucking with her. So I dragged her here tonight, interrupted whatever she had brewing for the fun of it; and not because I missed her pussy, her scent, or anything else equally ridiculous.

Harley turns his attention back to my woman. “Selene, the murder happened Monday night, but sometime during your shift on Tuesday, that’s when the body showed up.”

Her head tilts just a fraction as those gorgeous eyes widen, a flicker of something alive behind them before she clamps it down. It’s an odd as fuck case and that reaction? It’s screaming she didn’t do it. I know her tells. Her pulse doesn’t lie. This mess of a kill—body vanishing, then dumped back at the scene, no cameras, no trace? It’s not her.

But that just raises more questions. Who the fuck murdered someone, hauled the corpse off, then brought it back like a goddamn trophy?

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