Page 50 of Reapers Don’t Ride

“Straight up death, you and him, how would you take him out?”

I cocked my head as I considered. It was hard to think about death when I had my angel standing there looking so beautiful, not to mention my face was still echoing with those butterfly kisses. “It would be difficult, but I think I could outlast him if it came to blood loss. I’d cut him down bit by bit until I could take his head.”

“Brutal.”

I shrugged and sucked on my blood bag. I was a vampire, and not just any vampire. The worst. I’d fed on a demon for a hundred years, becoming stronger, colder, and more cunning than the countless prey I’d killed.

“How would you do it?”

He smiled slightly. “I have this scythe…”

I burst out laughing. “You’d kill him with your scythe? That’s the least practical weapon in the world.”

“It’s a magic scythe. Full of mystical glowing death magic.”

I pushed him towards the bed. “That sounds so magical. Go to sleep, reaper man. I’m going to climb on the roof and watch things.”

He let me push him towards the bed, but caught my hand against his chest at the last moment. “I’ll sleep for a few hours. Just think, next week, you’ll be able to read in bed with me while I dream.”

I stared at him. Would that be okay to do? I pulled my hand away from him and darted for the window before I told him that we should practice now.