Page 17 of The Reaper's Vow
I freeze mid-step, nostrils flaring. The scent coils in my lungs like acid. Cheap cologne. Sweat. Skin.
He was close. On the couch. On her. His scent clings to the blanket like a fucking claim. My muscles tense as a savage growl tears from my chest.
She flinches, pressing herself further into the counter like she could disappear into it.
“I can smell the human,” I snarl. “The male scent all over this apartment.”
She says nothing, but I can see it—her pulse fluttering in her throat, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
My wolf is furious.
Rage burns through me, sharp and irrational. My vision blurs at the edges. I taste copper. My claws threaten to burst through my skin. The idea of another man, a human, this close to her, touching her, breathing her in...
It sends my instincts spiraling into something feral. Possessive. He tainted her space. Left his scent where it doesn’t belong.
My wolf is howling, pacing inside me, demanding we track him down and rip him apart for daring to come near what’s ours.
“Who is he?” I demand, stalking closer. Every step feels like wading through molten lava, my composure fraying with each heartbeat. “Tell me his name.”
“What?” She looks genuinely confused, her attention flicking between my face and my hands, where my claws have partially extended. “I don’t?—”
“The human who's been here,” I growl, gesturing toward the couch. “His stink is all over this place. All over you.”
Her features harden, submission burning off until only defiance remains. “That’s none of your business.”
Wrong answer.
I'm across the room before she can blink, caging her against the counter with my arms on either side of her. She gasps, shrinking back, but there's nowhere to go. I lower my head until our faces are inches apart, breathing in that intoxicating scent beneath her artificial perfumes.
“It became my business the moment my wolf recognized you. So, I'll ask again. Who is he?”
“My boyfriend,” she lies, chin lifting slightly despite her obvious terror. “And he'll be here any minute, so?—”
I laugh, the sound harsh and cutting. “No, he won't. You're lying. Your heartbeat gives you away.”
I can hear the rapid flutter of her pulse, smell the acrid scent of adrenaline seeping through her pores. “You're not a very good liar, Karina.”
Her name tastes like honey on my tongue. I want to say it again. Want to growl it against her skin.
“Who the fuck is he?”
“My ex,” she seethes. “But that is none of your business.”
Good. One less fucking human to kill for even breathing in her presence. My wolf settles slightly at the admission, butthe rage still simmers beneath my skin. Ex or not, his scent is too recent, too strong. The thought of him here, in her space, touching what belongs to me, drives me mad.
“Why does that matter. You’re here to kill me, right? To hunt me down for what I saw.”
The question hangs between us, and for a moment, I don't know how to answer. Because she's right—that's exactly why I came here. To eliminate the witness. To clean up the mess. It's what I do, what I've always done.
But now, with her scent flooding my senses and my wolf clawing at my insides, the thought of putting a bullet in her head makes me physically sick.
“I should,” I admit with a shrug. “Any other night, with any other witness, I would have already pulled the trigger.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn't look away. Doesn't back down. There's a steel in her spine that I didn't expect.
“But you’re not any other witness,” I continue, leaning closer until the warmth radiating off her skin brushes against me. “You’re mine.”
“I’m not your anything,” she snaps, shoving at my chest. Her hands are too small, too weak to move me. “I don’t even know what that means.”
