Chapter Thirteen
Cilla had been asleep at least an hour, her warm breath fanning across his neck. He should leave. In truth, he should have already left. He’d known passion over the course of his long life, but he couldn’t remember anything that came close to matching tonight.
Trailing his fingers down her slender spine, he tried to figure out what made Cilla so special. Out of the billions who’d walked the planet since the dawn of humankind, she was the one who’d gotten past his barriers and touched the man beneath.
Cilla posed a threat to his very existence. She was an assignment, one he couldn’t afford to fail. Not unless he wanted to end up in eternal exile.
Despite the cloying heat, a cold chill snaked up his spine. Sleeping with her, making love with her, jeopardized everything. Knowing that, he’d done it anyway.
He was a fool. Every possible scenario ended the same way—Cilla was going to die, and he was going to stand back and allow it to happen.
Reapers had ironclad rules, the most important one being no interference in a human’s destiny.
When their time was up, it was up. End of discussion.
Any deviation could start a cascade that could potentially end the human race.
Ensuring the survival of the species was a delicate balance, and it fell to reapers to ensure it was maintained, no matter the cost.
He’d waded through battlefields, ignoring the stench of blood and death from lives cut short. He’d stood by bedsides as loved ones said goodbye to those who’d passed the century mark. He’d never seen it as unfair or unjust…until now.
Restless, he slid his arm from beneath her head and eased it onto the pillow.
She made a snuffling noise but didn’t wake.
He stood beside the bed and drank in every inch of her, from her tousled hair to her rosy lips.
Hell, even her freckles were sexy. She was more the girl-next-door than a sex goddess, but that didn’t matter to his dick.
He was hard as stone. It would be easy to lie back down beside her, run his hands over her lush body, and gently wake her to make love again.
Cursing under his breath, he pulled the sheet over her and turned out the light. She remained lost to slumber, unaware of his chaotic thoughts. It was better for her to wake to find him gone. Both of them understood this night was one and done.
Before he caved and crawled back in bed to kiss her awake, he grabbed his jeans. The silence of the house wrapped around him as he left her room. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear the spirit of her deceased grandmother berating him for his less than honorable actions.
It had never been his intention to hurt Cilla, but that would be the result. Would her soul hurl accusations when she finally understood the truth, when he guided her to the afterlife, or would she stare sorrowfully in silent judgment?
His motions jerky, he yanked on his pants and padded to the fridge for water.
I can’t change fate. Every life was a thread in a larger fabric; pull on one and the entire thing would unravel.
Unscrewing the cap, he downed half the bottle before setting it aside.
Resting his hands on the counter, he dropped his head and took a deep breath.
Caw!
His head jerked up, and he was out the backdoor in a flash. With a quick glance back at the house to ensure Malaki hadn’t disturbed Cilla, Alex crossed to the lawn, heading to the secret garden where he knew he’d find his father’s messenger.
Dark, beady eyes glared in silent judgment when he straightened from the overgrown path. The bird fluffed his feathers and tilted his head to one side.
“Don’t judge me, you bastard, you’re not the one in the middle of this.” If a bird could look disdainful, this one did. “What do you want? I need to get back.”
Malaki turned away, grabbed something with his beak, and offered it to Alex. He held out his hand. A credit card was dropped into his palm. “Why is he returning this now?” He had little patience for his father’s messenger at the best of times. Tonight he had none. “Well?”
Caw! Caw!
Every muscle of his body rigid, he gave a curt nod. “I understand. It’s to pay for the repairs to the bike.” It was the least his father could do, considering he’d been responsible for the crash.
Alex needed the open road to feel free, even if he was stuck in Redemption for the duration. It also meant he hadn’t screwed up enough tonight to seal his fate. No matter his growing feelings for Cilla, he had to take a step back and focus on the job he’d been sent to do.
The Grim Reaper was many things, but lenient and patient he wasn’t.
He demanded absolute professionalism from all reapers.
There were no second chances when rules were broken.
Punishment was swift and brutal. And son or not, there would be no special favors.
If anything, their father demanded more from him and his brothers than he did from other reapers.
There were no perks for being the boss’s son.
The air was thick, the perfume from the roses suffocating. He’d always associate them with Cilla. He wanted to rip the bushes down and stamp the flowers into oblivion. The depth of his anger was shocking.
Caw!
“Fuck off. You’ve done what you came to do.
Leave me in peace.” Malaki proved he was smart by silently swooping away.
The mood he was in, he’d have been tempted to yank out some of the bird’s tail feathers if he’d issued one more warning.
Sanctimonious bastard. He wasn’t the one who had to reap souls.
He didn’t have to climb out of his lover’s bed knowing she was going to die and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to change it.
It was easy for Malaki to act superior in his role as messenger. He’d never been on the front lines.
But his father had. Since the dawn of existence, the Grim Reaper had gathered the souls of all living beings, from the gods themselves to humans. Not once had he shirked his duty or hesitated. It was impossible to accuse him of not understanding. Surely he’d befriended humans along the way.
He’d never spoken of Alex’s mother. Hell, he and his brothers didn’t even know if they had the same one or if they’d been born from three different women.
Since they all resembled their father in appearance, there was no help there.
For all he knew, his father could have snapped his fingers and they’d simply appeared out of thin air.
It was something they’d all speculated about but had never dared to ask.
Overhead, stars twinkled in the night sky.
The moon cast its glow on the world beneath.
Alex took a deep breath, soaking in the quiet solitude, broken only by the occasional rustling of nearby nocturnal animals.
The ground was warm beneath his bare feet; the faint breeze did little to wick the perspiration from his skin.
Would tomorrow be the end? He rolled his shoulders, but the tension remained.
The Fates might not control his life as they did humans’, but there were rules he had to abide by.
Outwardly, he had power and freedom and wealth, but as his father had proven, it could all be snatched away in the blink of an eye.
What was the point of any of it?
He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and sighed.
If he managed not to screw up this assignment, he was going to find a way to reconnect with his brothers.
Their father had used their natural competitive spirit to pit them against one another, eroding the closeness they’d once shared.
And worse, they’d allowed it. No more. Someone had to be the first to reach out.
It wouldn’t be Sam. He was even more stubborn than Alex, which was saying something.
And Kieran, who’d once seen them as his heroes, had come to view them as his competition.
Hell, this was the first time he and Sam had been in the same place for decades. The occasional video chat had become the norm, all of them busy with their own lives.
The first order of business would be to brainstorm together to try to figure out a way to block their father from limiting their abilities—if he could do it to Alex, he could do it to all of them.
That was a common cause they could all unite around.
It might be an impossible task—more likely a fool’s errand—but it was better than spending eternity wondering when the rug was going to pulled out from under him again.
He didn’t even know if their father had curtailed Sam’s abilities during his assignment, if the parameters were the same or different.
He wished he could talk to his brother. Not being able to reach him by phone was a huge red flag.
He could try again, or he could find the Little Lavender Farm where Sam was currently staying and test the boundaries his father had erected.
A faint tug in his chest made him frown.
It wasn’t a call to reap. He rubbed the spot over his chest, and his gaze fell on the exit of the garden.
Cursing under his breath, he ducked through the natural tunnel created by the overgrown foliage.
Cilla is an assignment. Still, his pace picked up the closer he got to the house.
Everything was quiet when he let himself in through the back door and locked it behind him. He was torn between being glad Cilla was sleeping and wishing she was awake and waiting for him.
There’d never been anyone waiting when he returned to whatever current place he called home.
While many would say he had the entire world at his fingertips—and they’d be right—it was a lonely existence.
Filling his days with reaping, business interests, and entertainment had made it easier to overlook that.
Spending time with Cilla was showing him what he was missing.