Reaper's Vow (30 page)

“Tonight?”

“No time like the present.”

“Yes.”

Because he didn't believe a future was necessarily always going to be there, like her. It should have made her nervous, but for some reason it made her feel secure.

Wendy started splashing into the water.

“You sure she can swim?”

Miranda nodded. “She took to paddling so fast I think she's part fish.”

“Can you?”

She nodded. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Like a fish?”

And she chuckled, “Yes.”

“Good.” His thumb stroked over her lips, the rough surface catching erotically on the damp flesh.

“It's going to be all right, Miranda.”

For the first time, when somebody told her that, she actually believed it. It was probably the sweetest gift he could ever give her. She stepped into his arms, sliding her hands up over his chest, ignoring his start of surprise at her making this move.

Using his own technique, she pressed her nails into the back of his neck, urging him down to her. He bent so easily, this man who was so strong but wasn't afraid to give her what she needed. As his lips met hers, she whispered, “Thank you.”

He took her thanks and her mouth with a thoroughness that she'd come to expect, bringing forth passion and emotion. Lust flitted through her right along with love, she realized. She loved this man. She had sworn to never love anyone again, to never be vulnerable again. But she loved him, and she couldn't stop kissing him. As the realization swamped her and the floodgates opened, the woman she'd been hiding for so long came to the fore.

One of them moaned. Him, her, she wasn't sure. The kiss took fire, or maybe it was just her, who could tell? His hands slid down to her hip; her thigh slid up his, her ankle wrapped around him, pulling him closer; her arms tightened; his growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her nipples, making her more aware of the differences between them and the potential if only they were alone.

“Mommy.”

But they weren't alone. They had to stop. She couldn't, but he found the strength. He was always finding the strength that they needed. He was a man to trust. Everyone had told her that. She didn't know why she hadn't listened earlier. His lips parted from hers, the pad of his thumb pressing against the softness of her lips, rubbing gently, keeping her attention focused on the tingling there.

“Later you can tell me what that was all about.”

She nodded. Later, she'd tell him a lot of things, and the most amazing thing was she wasn't afraid of the prospect. His gaze softened, and his lips pressed against her forehead, just once, but so much was said in that gesture. She didn't think anything she'd be telling him would be a surprise. He had to suspect most of it. That was good.

“Right now, let's go play with our daughter.”

“Our.
Such a pretty word.” Catching his hand, she tugged him along.

“Race you.”

She took off before she finished the challenge. She didn't have a prayer of beating him, but when she looked over her shoulder, she was. A second look told her why. His eyes were locked on her hips. She didn't run faster and he didn't catch up. When she reached Wendy, she gave in to the mischievous impulse and bent over on the pretext of pulling up Wendy's pantaloons and tying the knot. They tended to stretch when they got wet. And as she bent, she wiggled. He growled and swatted her butt. She jerked and gave him the squeal that he wanted. Her gaze met his, finding in his eyes the smile that matched hers.

And inside her more ice shattered under the warmth of the sun, the heat of his gaze, the perfection of the moment. She would never forget this day.

“Mom, hurry up! I want to go on the rope.”

“The rope?” Cole asked.

Wendy pointed over to where a rope had been tied to a large limb.

“I like to swing out.”

“Nice. You ever do a flip off that?”

“Oh my gosh,” Miranda gasped. “Don't get her started.”

It was too late. Wendy's interest was caught. She perked right up. “A flip?”

Cole started taking off his boots. “I'll show you.”

That just made Wendy tug harder, which made tying her drawers impossible.

“Hold on a minute. I can't tie this knot if you keep dancing.”

With a puff of exasperated breath Wendy stood still. Miranda tied the knot.

As soon as she was free, Wendy was in motion. “I'll race you to the rock!”

Cole looked down at Miranda. “Figures, the first time you let your guard down with me we'd have company.”

“But at least I let my guard down.”

His expression softened. “There is that.”

“Come on!” Wendy called impatiently.

Cole looked over at the pond. There was a rock way out in the center. It actually wasn't a pond. It was big enough to be a small lake, which was good. “I think your daughter intends to beat me.”

“She has big ideas.”

“Nothing wrong with big ideas.”

“No, there might not be.” That was quite a concession on her part. Whatever had happened in her past made her reluctant to spread her wings, but he liked that she didn't want that for her daughter.

“I'd best get to shucking the rest of my clothes or else she's going to take off without me.”

She licked her lips. “Yes.”

He eyed her. “I'm shucking to swim, not to pleasure.”

“You can do whatever you want.”

“And you're going to do whatever you want?”

“When it comes to picturing you naked, yes.”

“I'll be leaving my long johns on.”

“Not in my mind.”

He shook his head and undressed. The woman was a caution.

“Are you going to let her win?” Miranda asked.

“I'm a Cameron, what do you think?”

It pleased him to no end that she said, “I think you're going to build her confidence. I think you're going to let her beat you to the rock.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because you're a good man.”

“You keep talking like that, and I just might let you beat me to the mattress tonight.”

She shivered, and he smiled. There was a lightness in his soul that he wasn't used to but he'd be happy to grow accustomed to it. He kicked off his right boot and then the left. “You going to come swimming with us?”

She shook her head as he tugged off his socks. “I think I'll just get the makings for a fire here.”

“It's a hot day.”

She nodded to the clouds. “But with the breeze coming in off that storm, it's going to get cold.”

“And?”

“And if you two decide to go fishing, there'll be lunch to cook.”

He shucked his shirt and unbuckled his belt, taking his time as her gaze clung and she licked her lips. He liked knowing he aroused her. “Putting us to work, are you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “It can't be all fun.”

He laughed and dropped his pants. “We'll see about that.”

He had to race Wendy to the big rock three times before the girl wore out. He couldn't remember if there had been a time in his life when he had that much energy but there must have been. They floated in the cool water, leaning up against the rock and catching their breath.

“You're a strong swimmer, Miss Wendy,” he complimented. It wasn't a lie. For her age, size, and skill level she was strong.

“So are you.” She pushed her hair off her face. “You almost caught me that last time.”

He smiled and wiped the water out of his eyes. “Well, that was quite a bet you laid out. I didn't want to end up having to do your chores for a week. I have enough of my own.”

She giggled, another happy sound in a happy day. It had been a long time, a real long time, since he'd felt this carefree, but he liked the feeling the way he seemed to be liking a lot of things lately.

Leaning his arm against an outcropping of the rock, he let his body float, catching Wendy when she tried to imitate him and slid off the rock. When he propped her back up, she mimicked his position right down to what he imagined his expression looked like. And that just made him want to smile wider.

“Your mom said we need to catch some fish if we want to eat lunch.”

“How we going to do that? We didn't bring the hooks.”

“Well, I'm thinking she'd think it was funny to watch us try to catch them with our bare hands, but I got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Like what?” She was all eyes and anticipation.

“Figure if we take some of those sticks over there and make a couple of spears, we might be able to stab us a few over there by that shady rock while they're snoozing.”

“Spear them?”

He nodded. “It's hard to do, but if you learn the technique, it's a way to keep yourself fed when you don't have much else going on.”

She was clearly fascinated. The sun went behind a cloud. A shadow chased over the lake, covering them.

“Might be that storm blowing in,” he said.

“Now?”

“Not till tonight, I don't think.”

A cold wind chased the shadow. Wendy shivered. Bad energy chased the wind. A chill crept up Cole's spine, a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the air. The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled. He looked ashore. Miranda waved, her long hair blowing about her shoulders. Beyond her in the bushes other shadows moved. Sinister shadows.

Fuck.

“Wendy!” he said very calmly. She turned to look at him. “Go on the other side of the rock, then swim for that deadfall on the shore. Stay down low. No matter what, once you get there, hide. Don't you peek over.”

“What's wrong?” Her gaze followed his. Before he could block her, she saw what he saw, wolves—Reapers—closing in on her mother. She opened her mouth to scream a warning. He slapped his hand over her mouth, holding her tight, giving her no place to look except at him.

“We don't want them to know we're here,” he hissed. “Now, get over there behind that rock. I'm going to get your mother safe, but while I'm doing that, you need to hide and stay put, understand?”

She nodded.

“Then do as I say.”

She slipped around the rock, face pale, expression terrified when seconds before she'd been laughing.

A scream came from shore. Wendy whimpered. Cole glided into the water, watching as the Reapers jumped out of the bushes. Miranda grabbed up a stick from the fire and swung it at them. The flame was too new, it didn't hold. She backed up toward the pond, holding the stick like a club. Cole didn't wait to see any more. Slipping beneath the surface, he swam with all he was worth toward the shore. Hoping Wendy was doing as he said, hoping Miranda could hold her own long enough for him to get there.

Her next scream was so loud the echoes reached him underwater. Miranda's terror ricocheted along his nerves. A growl built in his throat. His mind teemed with all the possibilities that could have brought about that scream. He swam harder. His lungs burned. His heart pounded. When the cold calm of rage wrapped his senses, he embraced it. And when that high-pitched scream cut short, for the first time in a long, long time, he prayed.

“God, get me there in time.”

20

Miranda took another step back into the pond. Cold water closed over her ankles. It had nothing on the terror choking her as the Reapers approached, fangs exposed, jowls dripping, hackles up. This was it. Her foot slipped on a wet rock. She caught herself. There was nowhere left to go. Tightening her grip on the stick she'd grabbed, she looked into the leader's eyes and borrowed Cole's favorite expression.

“Fuck you.”

If she were going to die, it wouldn't be cowering or begging. No one was ever going to make her beg again.

The Reaper leapt. She lunged to the left. His claws dug into her shoulder as he overshot. Scrambling on her hands and knees, she made it back onto dry land. Before she could spring to her feet, another Reaper hit her from the side. Pain exploded in her ribs. She heard him cough a laugh. Smelled his scent. Clark. Rolling onto her back, she snarled right back. Seeing him like this, she remembered him. Remembered how he'd laughed all those years ago as she'd begged for mercy, begged for death. He'd been behind the attack on the wagon train. And no one had known.

“Fuck you!”

Clark leaned down, teeth bared. His saliva dripped on her face. His breath stung her nostrils. She was going to die. Here. Now. With the sun in the sky and her daughter splashing in the water.

Inside the panic blended with prayer. She closed her eyes, not brave enough to watch it happen.
Don't let them find Wendy. Please, not my little girl
.

And to Cole she whispered,
Remember.

There was a roar, real or in her head she didn't know, but she'd recognized that punch of energy that surrounded her like a shield anywhere. Cole.

And in that moment, the killing blow came, not to her, but to the complacency that she had adopted since her change. Cole had come for her. Against common sense, against his promise to save Wendy, he'd come. She opened her eyes and saw Clark's vindictive smile as he jumped back and yipped a command. The wolves were inching in, tightening their circle around her. She saw Cole square off to the right, drawing them away from her. They'd tear him apart if she sat on her butt like she had for the last four years bemoaning her fate, too scared to do anything. Paralyzed by a choice she'd never made.

Springing to her feet, she shook off the dizziness and reached for her beast. For the first time she rejoiced in the sensation of her canines tearing through her gums, her nails stretching to claws, her muscles hardening. Letting that wild part of her she always suppressed surge, she welcomed the strength and the power. Welcomed the anger.

She leapt for the Reaper heading for Cole's back. She recognized him. Traitor! Past, present, snarls, roars. What did they matter? She threw her all into the fight, clawing at the man's face in a fury, biting at this neck, both horrified and and elated at the taste of blood.

Run.

The order exploded into her mind. She ignored it. This was her home. This was her man. She wasn't leaving either.

The Reaper spun and reached back with wickedly curved claws. She heard Cole's yell, saw the Reaper in front of him go down, and then Cole was there, knife in hand. Unbelievably quickly, he slashed the Reaper's throat. The wolf staggered beneath the combined assault.

“Get the fuck off,” Cole ordered.

She did, leaping aside as the Reaper went down, landing on her feet with an agility that astounded her. She had known the beast was inside her, but she hadn't known it was capable of this. That she was capable of this. Hate and fear blending into a ferocious rage, she snarled at Cole. He snarled right back.

“Get out of here!”

She shook her head. He would have said something else, but there was no time because the rest of the Reapers were on them. She howled, summoning the pack. Four Reapers jumped Cole. She managed to block one. The second threw her aside. She watched as Cole went down under their claws, saw Clark smirk as he landed a blow to Cole's side. She screamed as the Reapers piled on. It was happening again. She couldn't stop it, had never been able to stop it, but this time she wasn't going to passively let it happen with her screams her only defense. This time she was going to fight for her daughter, for herself, for Cole. They couldn't kill Cole.

Reaching out she found Cole's energy and his determination. Her world narrowed to a single focus, saving Cole, and this time it was her teeth tearing and her claws ripping flesh as she jumped on the men piled on Cole, and she ripped her way down to him, screaming his name in a hoarse parody of a voice whose words made no sense but echoed with an unearthly timbre. From far away she heard answering howls. Help was coming.

She bit the back of another neck but never tasted the blood as it spurted, never felt the bones as they crushed. She bit harder and shook her head. She felt blows hit her body, but they were distant echoes. The only thing that mattered was getting to Cole.

She released the wolf's neck. He fell to the side, and there beneath her was Cole. She saw a paw descending, the claws viciously curved for the back of his neck. She threw herself over his body, taking the blow herself, wrapping her arms around him, and screaming louder. As his flesh rent and his energy faltered.

He isn't dead. He isn't dead.

That was the only thought she held on to.

Down as she was now, there was no fighting, no resisting. All she could do was wrap her legs around Cole's limp body and cling when they pulled. They would have to kill her before she'd let him go. She wasn't losing another husband to this senseless violence. The first had been expendable, but Cole was her life, her soul, and she hadn't yet heard him tell her he loved her.

His energy wavered again. She clung to it with her mind as tightly as she clung to his body. The scent of his blood was terrifyingly rich in her nostrils, so strong. She moaned. So much of it. How much he could afford to lose when he'd already lost so much.

Live
, she ordered. Changed as she was, she couldn't voice the words, but she could express the thought, and with everything in her she shoved it into Cole's mind, past his resistance, past his pain, past everything, digging it in so deep that even if he wanted to die he wouldn't be able to.
Just live
.

She could feel her own blood dripping down her side, her own life force slipping. She would heal, but he wouldn't. The thought was unbearable. She felt the unease slip through the wolves around her. She looked up, saw Clark backing off. She'd know him anywhere. She'd memorized his face in all forms. A hundred years from now when she met him again, she wanted there to be no mistake. He'd done this to her, to them, because he believed being a monster made him above the law.

She snarled at him. He didn't look impressed. She didn't expect him to. He vanished into the woods with the rest just as reinforcements arrived. No one saw him, she was sure. No one knew he'd been there. Except her.

Blade and Isaiah reached her first.

Again there were hands tugging at her. “Let go, Miranda.”

She shook her head. She was never letting go.

“We've got to see what we're dealing with.”

She shook her head again.

“Is he alive?”

“The stubborn son of a bitch is alive,” Blade said. “I can feel his energy.”

“How is he?” Isaiah asked sharply.

“Dying.”

No, he wasn't dying. Miranda wouldn't let him die, ever. Fingers touched her cheek. She'd recognize them anywhere. She opened her eyes again. Cole. He was looking at her. Seeing her like this. She closed her eyes. She never wanted him to see her like this.

With a shudder she forced her wolf back, finding it harder than she expected, but finally she succeeded, and there was nothing between their skin except the tatters of his long johns and her dress. Miranda clutched Cole's cold hand, squeezing it to her cheek, pressing a kiss into his palm. The faintest of tremors shook his fingers.

“We need to get him back,” Blade said at the same time Isaiah told her, “Miranda, you need to move.”

She shook her head. There was blood on his face, bruises forming on his skin, and more scary, a slash across his throat. She pressed her finger to the laceration, trying to stop the drip of blood.

“It's not an artery,” Blade said almost gently. “The blood's too slow.”

She looked at Blade. “Thank you,” she whispered, but she kept her fingers there. Even one drop was too much. Cole's lips shaped words. She shook her head. “Save your energy.”

He frowned. She felt the push of his mind against hers, and now that the danger was over, her first instinct was to resist.

Don't.

The word came to her mind as clear as day.
No.

“What is it?”

He licked his lips and tried again. Words didn't come out.

“Miranda, we need to get him back.”

Whatever they thought they needed could wait. “What is it?” she asked Cole again.

His thumb stroked over her mouth the way it always did, but while there was a connection, there was no rush of sensuality. His touch was cold, foreign, as if he'd already left her. She blinked the tears back from her eyes and waited. She felt his presence in her mind like a subtle poke that grew stronger until it became pressure. The pressure built until it became a shove. So harsh, such a strong presence. She wanted to lean back, but she needed to stay because she could feel his urgency. A picture of the deadfall on the other side of the pond formed in her mind.

“Wendy. You left her there?”

He nodded and his fingers fell from her cheek. She caught them and brought them back, pressing him to her.

Don't leave me.

Even as she held on to his energy, she felt it slip away.

The scream came from her soul, “No!”

* * *

“He's not a goddamn Reaper, Miranda. We don't have the luxury of time. You need to do it now.”

Miranda sat beside the bed where they'd laid Cole and touched her fingers to his cheek, still clutching his energy to her heart, feeling it get fainter with every beat. The sheets around him were stained red with his blood. She wanted to change them.

“You need to stop the bleeding,” she whispered.

“We've done everything we can to stop the bleeding. He's too hurt. Cut in too many places. He's too injured,” Isaiah said gently.

“The only thing that will save him is you,” Blade added.

She couldn't. Miranda's fingers trembled on Cole's collarbone. A smear of blood just to the left marred the tan of his skin. She didn't know if it was her blood or his. There was just no telling. Using her thumb, she rubbed at the blood.

If it was hers, it didn't matter. She would heal. She was already healing. She could feel the power surging through her, but Cole was dying, her Cole, her might, the man who'd given his life for her and her daughter. And she had to sit back and do nothing.

“I can't bite him.”

“Then we'll take a chance, and I'll do it,” Isaiah said.

“It won't work,” Blade said.

“What do you mean it won't work?” Isaiah snapped.

“Feel his energy, taste his blood. Both are thin. If you bite him, he'll die anyway. He's too weak.”

“The hell you say. What is the difference between me biting him and her?”

“He's already tuned to her. You know he would have to adjust to you, and he just doesn't have the strength for it.”

“You turned me,” Addy said.

“No,” Blade corrected. “Isaiah turned you. For the same reason Miranda has to change Cole.”

“Don't you want him to live, Miranda?” Addy asked, placing her hand on Miranda's shoulder. It was supposed to be a soothing touch, Miranda knew. She couldn't bear the weight of it.

More than anything in the world Miranda wanted Cole to live. She wanted him in her future. She wanted to laugh with him. She wanted to dance with him. She wanted to raise her daughter with him. But not as a Reaper.