Page 13 of Reapers Don’t Ride

I stared into those dark eyes and slowly started to relax. “You are a reaper.”

“Yes. The team leader told you, and the team leader wouldn’t lie.”

“Angels don’t lie.”

“That depends on the angel, but the team leader wouldn’t lie outright. He is also good at power plays, manipulation, and managing extremely dangerous elements. Pity he couldn’t come to the ball with us.” He stepped even closer, so he was within arms-length.

“Why are you so close?”

“I haven’t finished lecturing you.”

“I think you should be. It’s not safe for you to be too close to me.”

“There’s blood in the refrigerator. I made sure to mention it when I called for reservations.”

“Oh. You’re very organized.”

He took another step closer, so we were only a foot apart. “I am. Do you need to drink?”

My mouth watered and my fingers burned with the need to yank him close and bury my fangs into some part of him. Any part, but his neck was looking particularly lovely, visible over the white collar of his shirt.

I took a step away from him and found myself against a wall. “Do you know what it’s like to drink demon blood? I do. I don’t know what it’s like to drink an angel. I want to know. Very much. You need to be careful, to guard your blood so it isn’t spilled carelessly.”

“I saw you spill blood, and it was the opposite of careless.”

I glared at him and crossed my arms. “I warned you.”

“That you want my blood. Of course you want my blood. I’m an angel, and vampires always want angelic blood. It’s delicious, addictive, and deadly. What’s not to want? But I won’t let you have my blood. It would bind you to me, and that’s the last thing you need. What I am going to do is give you this.” He pulled out a small hairpin with tiny pearls and flowers and slid it into my hair. He stayed close for a moment, studying me before he took two large steps away and crossed his arms. “It’s a tracking device. I saw the way Herald looked at you, and I understand his warning. The Vampire King knows that you have no master and will try to make you his slave. Some people don’t like things to be free. The Vampire King is one of them.”

I fingered the small thing in my hair and my heart warmed even though it only resided in my chest like a dead rock. “I’m a convicted killer. You shouldn’t want me to be free, either.”

“Prisoners of the justice system aren’t slaves.”

I took a step closer to him, letting myself listen to his heart beat, his pulse thrum, his blood race through his veins. “You won’t let me take your blood?”

He raised a brow. “No. You can’t take it. You’d have to ask very politely and wait for me to give it to you. You’d also need a reason, such as starvation or other emergencies I can’t imagine, not being a vampire. We’re partners. A team. Being your blood donor doesn’t concern me very much, other than the binding. My friend used to love being drained by vampires, said it was extremely relaxing.”

“He was also part goblin?”

“Oh, no. He poisoned them. My blood wouldn’t poison you, but it’s still mine. However many times you tell another vampire that I belong to you.”

The urge to drag him into the bedroom and drink his blood was very strong. He didn’t belong to me? Then why was I so protective of him and his blood? Of course, logically, rationally, he was my parole officer, so I belonged to him more than vice versa, but my instincts screamed that he was mine. I needed to mark him with my scent so that everyone knew and didn’t touch him. I also needed to touch him and taste him for very personal reasons I didn’t understand. Possession. Obsession. Ah. That’s what it was like.

I blinked and started for the door, moving as fast as a vampire could. I needed space, or I’d… I stopped abruptly when I opened the door to find the clerk with a cart stacked with covered dishes and my hot chocolate. He looked relieved when he saw me.

“Lady Blood, I wasn’t sure if you’d like me to knock or just leave the table for you to retrieve at your convenience.”

“Knock. Sometimes I get distracted.” I’d been so wrapped in the angel’s scent, I hadn’t registered the food outside the door. I should have. I grabbed the tray and pulled it in, closing the door on the clerk’s face while I struggled to get everything together. I was working with an angel. He didn’t know the feral creature I’d been, but everyone else did. I needed to, as Mr. Good would say, have a veneer of civility that covered the monster beneath. Particularly if that monster was developing a growing fixation on the angel.