Reaper's Vow (12 page)

He smiled. He did like a woman with a bit of fire.

“So you've got Southern sympathies but no Southern accent; you were married but have no husband; you obviously come from culture, yet you're stuck in the back of beyond in this territory in some of the harshest terrain with a group of monsters called Reapers.”

“It's none of your business what I am.”

“May not be my business, but there's enough to you to make a man curious.”

“I'll thank you not to be curious.”

“Too late.”

“My life is no concern of yours.”

“Not unless I choose to make it so.”

And he just might. The woman intrigued him on all levels for no particular reason he could put his finger on beyond the fact that she had the most delicious energy that'd ever rubbed against his. He'd seen prettier women, he'd seen more voluptuous women, but he'd never met a woman that made his cock hard just thinking about the touch of her fingers on his. Add to that the fact that she had sass and fire and she was in a bit of a pickle, and well, she was downright irresistible.

“I can feel you thinking over there.”

“What kind of feel?”

“I can just feel it, and I'm not your concern, and I don't want to be your challenge, and I don't want to be the puzzle that you have to fix. I have enough problems without adding you to the mix.”

“More problems than just Clark?”

“If it were just Clark, I could have solved it myself.”

Interesting. “How's that?”

“I'd kill him.”

The woman was getting more intriguing by the second.

She flopped over and sat up in the bed. Wendy stirred.

“Careful, you're going to wake your daughter.”

She huffed at him for the helpful hint.

He smiled, knowing she couldn't see it in the shadow from his hat.

“Is it just me you enjoy provoking, or is it a general habit?”

“Might be generalized. But I'm pretty much focused on you tonight though.”

“Because you think I owe you?”

“Because you're there and I'm here, neither one of us is sleeping, and I'm curious.”

“My God, it's a wonder nobody's shot you before now.”

He broke out laughing at that. “A few have.”

“You need enemies with better aim.”

“If I had enemies with better aim, little Wendy would be sporting a broken jaw.”

That shut her up quick.

“I'm not a threat to you, Miranda.”

“You are. You're just too stupid to know it.”

“The only other person that's accused me of being stupid is your daughter.”

“I'm surprised more haven't. I thought it would go hand in hand with a bullet in your ass.”

“Language, language.”

“I stopped worrying about the basic courtesies a long time ago.”

“Right about the time you hooked up with the Reapers?”

She didn't bother to deny it. “Yes.”

“Since we're on the subject, how did you come to be with the Reapers?”

“It wasn't by choice.”

“Kinda figured that. Were you always a Reaper and just didn't know it? Were you hiding out among humans?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“They'll kill me.”

That truth hung between them.
Fuck
.

“You really are in trouble, aren't you?”

“Yes. And you're not helping. So, please, come morning pack your stuff, get out of my house, get out of this village, and disappear.”

“That would make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'll think on it.”

He pulled the hat down a little bit lower on his face and settled in the chair. He could feel her glaring at him, probably plotting a way to demand a promise rather than a “think on it.”

His smile grew a little broader as she slumped down in the bed. He stretched his long legs out and crossed his feet at the ankles, letting the fire warm the soles of his boots.

His stay might just be getting a little interesting after all.

7

Interesting was the next morning when Wendy bounced out of bed at the crack of dawn, ready to make a mad dash for the outhouse, and he was feeling about a hundred years old from sitting in the chair all night.

She froze, her nightgown swirling around her legs when she saw him. Her eyes, so like her mother's, grew as big as silver dollars. He stood.

“Mommy?” she whispered.

He couldn't blame her for the fear. Between the trip here and the night in the chair, he was as stiff as a board and not moving with his usual ease. He might just be getting old.

“It's all right,” he told her with a smile that felt more like a grimace and likely looked like one, too, if her reactions were anything to go by.

Wendy took a step back and that chin of hers came up.

“You leave my mommy alone.”

It seemed to be the child's battle cry. “Your mommy will always be safe with me.”

She looked at him, and her lip slipped between her teeth as she absorbed that.

“I've go to go potty.”

That's what he'd figured from the way she was shifting from foot to foot.

Miranda moaned and rolled over but didn't wake. He wasn't surprised. She'd spent most of the night, arm draped over the side of the mattress, watching him.

“Let's not wake your mommy. She's tired.”

For a second more Wendy hesitated, but with a grimace she nodded. He knew what that grimace meant. They were running out of time. “Do you think you can make it?”

She shook her head.

“Where's the chamber pot?”

She shook her head again and started to bob. There was no more time for discussion. Scooping her up, he made a dash for the door.

He got her to the outhouse in the nick of time. Or so he thought, but when he put her on the ground, she didn't go in.

“What's wrong?”

Standing, legs crossed, tears in her eyes, she just looked at him.

“What?”

To his horror she started to cry. Big, fat tears that ripped at him.

“Dammit, what?”

“You're not supposed to swear.”

“And you're not supposed to pee your pants.”

“I didn't!”

Yet. The “yet” was imminent.

“Then what's the problem?”

She opened the door and pointed inside. It took him only a minute to spot the problem. There was a big ass spiderweb on the ceiling. And even he had to admit the occupant didn't look friendly.

“That is one ugly spider.”

She nodded.

“I can see why you're afraid.”

“I'm not a scaredy-cat!”

Obviously a sore subject. He grabbed up a stick off the ground. “Only a fool is never afraid.”

She jumped back as he leaned into the outhouse and scooped the spider, web and all, onto the stick.

She screamed when he came back out, the spider dangling. “Kill it! Kill it!”

He looked at her. “Go get your business done while I send this fella off to better parts.

She didn't move.

“Unless you want me to put him back?”

She was in the outhouse in a flash, braids dancing, the door slamming behind her. He chuckled and walked the spider off into the tall grass.

“Sorry, fella. But you wore out your welcome.”

He lobbed the stick deeper into the brush.

It would be nice if he could take care of all his problems so easily. And for the first time in his memory it wasn't Addy's face that flashed into his mind but Miranda's.
Shit.

From the far edge of the village came the sounds of raised men's voices and grunts. And cheers. Not a battle then. The outhouse door banged.

“Mister Cole?”

He turned back to Wendy. “Right here.”

She held up her arms as he approached.

“Feet cold?”

She nodded.

It was as natural as anything to pick her up. “How long has that spider been there?”

“A week or so.” She curled her arm around his neck. “Why didn't you kill it?”

“Because it didn't do anything wrong.”

“It scared me.”

“I know.” He shifted her higher and headed back to the house. “But you could have asked your mom to remove it.”

“She's afraid of them, too.”

Miranda was afraid of a spider, but she thought she could handle Clark? He set Wendy down on the stoop. “Isaiah, then.”

“Mommy says we can't bother him all the time.”

“Interesting.”

The door opened. Miranda stood there, looking sleep tousled and relieved, her shawl tucked tightly around her as she frowned at them both. “Mommy also said you aren't supposed to leave the house without telling her.”

“It was an emergency,” Cole explained.

Wendy nodded. “I had to go pee.”

Miranda caught her daughter by the shoulders and drew her close. “We don't speak of such things in mixed company.”

“Oh.”

“It's all right,” Cole said.

Miranda shook her head. “No, it's not.”

Wendy leaned back against her mom and looked up. “He got rid of the spider.”

“Huh?”

“The spider in the outhouse.”

“Is that why you've been having . . . problems?” She shook her head. “You should have told me.”

Over Wendy's head, Miranda mouthed a thank-you.

“You told me we couldn't be scaredy-cats.”

All the weight of the world settled into Miranda's expression. “When it comes to real things that scare you, it's not being a scaredy-cat.”

“Mr. Cole says only fools aren't afraid.”

Miranda looked at him, her expression a mixture of anxiety and—hell, he didn't know what the “and” was. But it made something he didn't recognize inside him curl in pleasure and the weary stiffness of the night disappear in a heartbeat.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“He also says you can't kill something just because you're afraid,” Wendy continued.

Miranda didn't have anything to say to that. Cole ruffled Wendy's hair.

“If you're all set here, I'm going to see what all the hubbub's about over there.” With a jerk of his chin he indicated the direction of the noise.

Miranda's gaze went past him down to the end of the village where he could hear raised male voices.

“You're not seriously thinking of joining the practice, are you?”

Maybe. “Practice?”

“Training,” she corrected hastily. “They train.”

He'd like to see that. “I might. It's been a while since I had a good tussle.”

“It's only pretend fights,” Wendy piped up.

Miranda shook her head. “Pretend fights in which bones get broken.”

Her concern was touching.

“Remember me? The man who took down four Reapers?”

“You said you got lucky.”

“Well, there was some skill involved.”

It ruffled his pride that she thought he was no match for a Reaper. They were, after all, just men with good reflexes.

“They're not, you know,” she said, stepping back so Wendy could go into the house.

That snapped him straight. He knew damn well he hadn't said that aloud.

“What?”

“Everybody thinks that, but it's not true,” she explained, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Thinks what?”

“That Reapers are just humans with better skills.”

So he was realizing. Apparently some of them could read minds. “What are they?”

“I don't know, but they're more than that.”

How could so many people be something and not know a thing about it? “Maybe it's time someone found out.”

“Isaiah won't be able to protect you.”

Son of a bitch, did she think he was a boy in short pants?

“Who asked him to?”

She bit her lip, and this time he had no trouble reading the fullness of her expression. Terror. She was terrified for him. The knowledge soothed some of his earlier irritation.

“Don't go.”

He brushed her hair back from her cheek. “Are you really worried about me getting hurt, or are you worried I'm going to start talking to some people and figuring some stuff out?”

“There's no mystery here.”

The woman was full of mystery, full of fear, full of passion. And she wasn't pulling away from his touch. He wondered if she realized that as much as he wondered if she knew she'd read his mind.

“China doll, there's nothing but mystery here.”

Her eyes searched his. “Why do you call me that?”

“I'm guessing for the same reason you're not backing away from my touch.”

She closed her eyes slowly and shook her head. “Then we're both fools.”

“I've been called worse.”

She did step away from him then. “I'm sure. And by better people than me.”

He took in her sleep-tumbled disarray. The softness of her mouth, the sweet tension of her energy. He'd like nothing better than to push her back into that house, lay her down on that bed, and slip his cock into her hot pussy with slow and easy strokes as he woke her up with kisses just as slow and easy. “No. I don't think so.”

With a shake of her head she grabbed the door. Before she closed it, she muttered with a complete lack of heat, “Go get yourself killed already.”

He smiled and shook his head. Nothing was ever that easy.

* * *

Cole tipped his hat to a couple of women working outside as he passed. They lowered their eyes and ducked into their houses as if just acknowledging the gesture could get them killed. There weren't that many women here. He'd expect them to be valued, but each one, with the exception of Addy, looked scared as shit. Addy didn't look scared at all. Just another thing that needed explaining.

When he reached Addy's house, the door was open, letting in the fresh morning air. There was a fire out front with a coffeepot sitting on it. He walked up to the door and rapped on the doorjamb.

“Addy girl, you in there?”

There was a rustling and then, “Coming!”

Addy came to the door, a piece of cloth and needle and thread in her hand. The stitches were uneven. She'd never been much of a sewer.

“I see your skills haven't improved.”

She blew her hair off her forehead. “Well, they're going to have to. There's no money for store-bought clothes, and Wendy needs a new outfit.”

“Why not have her mother make it?”

“That's a proud woman.”

He couldn't argue with that.

“Too proud to accept help?”

She sighed. “Miranda didn't come to us under the best of circumstances, and her position now is rather tenuous.”

“Her position is fucking dangerous.”

“Watch your language.”

“I'll do that just as soon as I don't feel like I'm sitting on top of a keg of dynamite and everybody around me has a sulfur.”

She sighed. “Cole, you're not one of us.”

“Us? What the hell is that? Did marrying that Reaper suddenly put you outside of our family?”

“No, but it brought up complications.”

She pointed to the pot. “Pour yourself some coffee.”

“Why?”

“Because you're always testy until you've had some, and I'm going to answer your questions.”

“Trust me, coffee isn't going to help my mood as much as answers.”

But he poured himself a cup anyway and took a seat on the log bench. Addy sat beside him with a sigh.

“There are things you don't know, don't understand.” She pushed her hair off her forehead. “Things even I don't understand that affect all of us.”

There was only one thing he wanted to know. “Are you in danger, Addy?”

“You know I am.”

“From other Reapers.”

He didn't make it a question, and she didn't pretend it should be. “Yes.”

“Because you married Isaiah.”

There was the barest of hesitations before she responded, “Yes.”