Chapter Eight #2
She understood pride more than most. Some days it had been the only thing holding her together in the aftermath of her failed marriage.
Alex was a man with secrets. He’d shared his reason for being in Redemption, but it was vague at best. In truth, he knew more about her than she did about him.
She’d have to watch that. He was far too easy to talk to.
“Fine. For however long you’re in town, you have yourself a deal.” She held out her hand. When he took it a shock of static electricity crackled between them. “Oh.” She shook her hand. “That’s odd.”
Thick clouds momentarily blotted out the light of the moon.
Cilla rubbed her hands up and down her arms. An ominous sense that she’d somehow sealed her fate flittered at the edges of her thoughts before she dismissed it as fanciful.
It was no more than the night and the secluded setting sending her imagination soaring.
Alex stood and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “We should go back inside.”
With a final glance at the gazebo, she headed toward the pathway only to be brought up short by the crow perched on a nearby branch. Surely it wasn’t the same one that had flown at her earlier.
An icy chill snaked down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder, barely able to see Alex.
The area seemed darker, as though the shadows had wrapped themselves around him.
Spooked, she bolted through the leafy tunnel and across the lawn to the comfort of the lights glowing from the house.
When she reached the porch, she turned and waited.
Alex crossed the yard at a much slower pace.
She bit her lip to keep from yelling at him to hurry.
Ivy House and the grounds had always been her sanctuary. As a child, it had been magical, her safe place. Tonight, something ominous lingered in the air. Given the odd actions of the crow, it was little wonder her imagination had taken flight.
She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they were both inside with the door bolted behind them.
They paused outside her room. “Again, I’m sorry for the inconvenience with the shower.
” He was a silent presence beside her. Was he lingering on purpose or was she imagining things?
It was more likely he was politely waiting for her to take her leave. “Well, good night.”
He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Good night. Sleep well.”
Cilla slipped into her room and listened as his footsteps faded. Leaning against the door, she touched her cheek, wishing he’d kissed her again.
…
After a night of tossing and turning, Alex stood by the bedroom window and watched the new day dawn. The sunshine and warmth did little to dispel his dark mood.
How did the saying go? Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.
Well, he’d wanted an answer and had gotten one. There was no mistaking the signs. Cilla Wainwright was his assignment.
Damn his father for keeping it a secret for as long as he had.
It had been only a day, but it was enough time to allow Alex to become entangled in her life.
He knew for sure now that the old man had purposefully suppressed his instincts about his target.
Normally, he’d have known right away that Cilla’s soul was his to reap.
Now he not only liked her, he wanted her. He couldn’t afford to do either.
Hands fisted at his sides, he refrained from punching the wall. This had to be his father’s way of teaching him a lesson, involving Alex in Cilla’s life only to have to stand back and watch her die.
It was a good thing she hadn’t overheard him talking to Malaki last night.
No way could he explain why he was having a heated conversation with a crow.
She’d have thought him out of his mind and would have probably asked him to leave, maybe called her friend Officer Jones to escort him off the property.
He stomped down the kernel of jealousy that ignited in his belly.
Bad enough he had to confront his father’s spy, then the freaking bird had purposely flown at Cilla, as if to drive home to Alex his reason for being here.
As if he needed the reminder that his entire future hung in the balance.
Had Sam experienced something similar? As tempting as it might be to try to contact his brother again, he didn’t dare take the risk, not with Malaki lurking around.
It might be viewed as cheating. That’s assuming Sam would even talk to him.
It was one thing to have the occasional brief conversation over the phone, quite another to ask him to get involved in Alex’s special assignment and risk their father’s wrath.
If they ran into each other, he’d take it as a sign it was supposed to happen. In the meantime, it was up to him to handle his burgeoning feelings for Cilla.
Twenty-four hours ago, he hadn’t been aware of her existence.
Now, she colored his every thought and action.
For a man who’d lived as long as he had, who’d assumed he’d seen and done it all, the foundation of his beliefs had been shaken to discover his life could be turned upside down with the snap of Death’s fingers.
His preternatural senses, reaping, perhaps even his immortality—everything he took for granted, everything that made him who he was—could be yanked away without a second’s notice.
As powerful as Alex was, he was no match for his father. No one was. Even the gods trembled in fear of the Grim Reaper. Was this helplessness, the fury at the unfairness of it all, how humans felt when they saw him coming to reap their souls? It was a sobering thought.
He turned away from the window. Today was a new day. Unlike yesterday, he was armed with information. Cilla was his assignment.
Ignoring the squeezing sensation in his chest, he left the room and headed down the stairs. She was human, and their lives were short. If she died today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now, it made no difference to him.
Liar! Ignoring the taunting voice inside his head, he made his way to the kitchen. He needed coffee.
His rational, well-ordered thoughts were tossed out the window when he saw her standing at the counter with a mug in her hand and a slight smile on her face.
Once again, the mass of copper hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun, anchored by a silver clip.
The sleeveless top matched the green of her eyes.
Her tailored cargo shorts were beige, her canvas sneakers snowy white.
It was casual, yet she somehow made it chic.
Sensing his presence, she turned. Her smile of greeting faded before returning in a forced manner. “Good morning. There’s coffee and muffins if you’re hungry. Bacon is in the warming oven. I was about to start on the pancakes and eggs.”
“I can wait to eat. How’d you sleep?” He helped himself to a mug of coffee before sliding onto one of the stools on the opposite side of the island.
“Fine. You?”
“Fine.” They were both lying, trying to find some normalcy after the unusual circumstances and uncharacteristic intimacy of yesterday.
If he was a gentleman, he’d take his coffee into the dining room or wander out into the garden.
But he’d never claimed to be one, and there was no escaping the reality that their fates were entwined.
The job was to reap her soul the way his father deemed acceptable.
That meant doing so with caring and respect.
That should be easy enough, since he actually liked her.
The problem would be not getting too involved in her life while he waited for her to die.
He winced, knowing that thought alone would not score him any points with the old man.
It wasn’t that he was callous. It was self-preservation to put distance between himself and humans.
Alex had seen what caring did to them, the suffering it caused when loved ones passed.
Why would he subject himself to endless pain for eternity?
He’d long ago lost count of the number of souls he’d reaped.
Should he have cared about them all? It wouldn’t have done them any good.
They’d still be dead. It certainly wouldn’t have been any benefit to him.
Cilla pulled a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator and began cracking them into a large bowl. She glanced at him and caught him staring.
“Are you going to watch me make breakfast?”
“Yes.” He clamped his hands around the mug to keep from reaching for her. Despite the fatigue in her eyes, she was as lovely as the roses in her garden, and like them, she was not without thorns.
“It’s not that exciting. You should enjoy the breeze on the back porch before the day heats up.” She was doing everything in her power to get him to leave the kitchen without actually coming out and asking. It solidified his determination to stay.
“I’m fine where I am.” His presence made her nervous, which meant she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe. Neither was he.
It would be safer for them both if he stayed out of her way until it was time to reap her soul, but that wasn’t the assignment.
His father had put him directly in her path, making certain he had no choice but to become personally involved.
He could do nothing to jeopardize the success of this mission.
There was no getting around it. It would hurt when the time came to lead Cilla to the afterlife.
Maybe that was the point—a punishment for all the times he’d remained aloof.
Death was a hard taskmaster. No one exempt from his exacting standards, especially not his sons.
If anything, Alex and his brothers were expected to be better than the rest, the gold standard for all reapers.
Hell of a legacy to live up to, given none of them had asked for it but had been born into it.