Reaver (13 page)

down at the pad of her thumb. Her lips parted to reveal rapidly lengthening fangs.

Don’t do it… don’t do it…

She did it. She moaned as she slid her thumb into her mouth. She sucked greedily, eyes closed, and

shit, he was torn between watching her fellate her thumb and worrying that the taste of his blood was

going to lead to her wanting more. If she fed from him while he was paralyzed and unable to stop her,

she could be swept away by bloodlust and drain him. He wouldn’t die, but he’d be comatose for days.

Weeks, maybe. They’d never get out of here.

And where the
ever-living fuck
was Calder? Not that Reaver wanted that bastard to come back while

Reaver was helpless. The assassin might be a professional, but he was also a demon with powerful,

cruel instincts, and a vulnerable angel might be too much of a temptation.

“You taste… incredible. Like sex.” She swirled her tongue around the tip of her thumb as if giving

him a visual to go along with her words. Damn, that was hot.

Her eyes popped open, and anxiety spiked. They were still green, but flecks of the deepest, darkest

black were spreading, swallowing the whites.

Her evil was starting to show. Had his blood done that to her?

Her lips curved into a sinister smile. “We were in a similar situation not long ago. You were

helpless. At my mercy.”

No shit. She’d cut off his wings and kept him immobilized and miserable, then she’d tried to get

him addicted to marrow wine. At the time, he’d believed she’d enjoyed herself. But now he knew

she’d been playing for Team Heaven… so had her enjoyment been an act? Or had all that time in

Sheoul corrupted her enough that she truly had loved every minute she’d spent hurting him?

Harvester slid her hand up to his throat and lightly stroked his skin. Or maybe it felt light only

because he was so numb.

“I didn’t want to do it, but orders are orders, aren’t they?” There was actually a thread of remorse

woven into the dense malevolence in her voice. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. “You

know what’s funny?” He loved how she asked questions when he couldn’t answer them. Harvester had

really never needed physical implements of torture. Talking alone was adequate. “I liked having you

at my place. I didn’t like for you to be in pain…” She licked her lips, catching a smudge of his blood

that lingered in the corner of her mouth. “Well, not much pain.”

Her fingers trailed up and down his jugular, and both alarm and his hackles rose. Would she do

more than talk him to death? She could wreck him with the Dragon Biter if she wanted to.

Or drink him into a coma.

“I was supposed to hurt you more than I did. I was supposed to blind you.” She brought her palm to

his cheek and smoothed her thumb over the sensitive skin under his eye. “But don’t make the mistake

of thinking I held back out of compassion. I have none.”

Maybe not right this minute, but he was still going to call bullshit. He’d been on the receiving end

of her care after Pestilence had beaten him half to death. He wondered if she was even aware that she

was lying.

“I held back because I dislike being told what to do.”

Well, they had that in common. But he still didn’t buy that she’d spared him pain out of an

unwillingness to follow orders. But why the hell was she yammering on like this? Although he

supposed there was nothing else to do while they waited for his paralysis to wear off.

“So,” she said, as if she hadn’t just rehashed one of the weirdest and worst times of his life. That he

knew of, anyway. Anything could have happened during the thousands of years that were a black hole

in his memory. “What shall we do to pass the time?” She grinned, a real wicked I’m-a-naughty-girl

special. “I wonder if every part of you is as hard as your limbs.” Her gaze traveled down the length of

his body, and if he hadn’t been stone-cold frozen, he’d have hyperventilated.

She wouldn’t.

Would she?

“Oh, chill out, you uptight pile of feathers. I’m not going to take advantage of your… stiff…

condition. We have a little pact that will address that, don’t we?”

Yes, they did, but why she’d made him agree to pleasure her was still a mystery. He’d nearly

vomited at the time he’d sworn to uphold the deal, but now that he knew the truth about her… okay, he

still wasn’t thrilled. But the more she stroked his skin, the more she watched him with those half-

lidded eyes, the more he wanted her to keep doing it.

And when she leaned even closer, until her lips were a mere feather’s width away from his, the

more he
wanted
. Period.

Ten

Harvester really liked having Reaver at her mercy. He’d always driven her crazy with his pompous

holier-than-thou attitude, and while she would never admit this to him, he usually seemed to have the

upper hand when it came to their verbal sparring. It was a rare treat to have him silent and unable to

argue.

Plus, the taste of his blood had been like a one-two punch of lust and loathing, reminding her how

much she both despised him and wanted him. She hated that she wanted him, so she was going to

punish him for it and take full advantage of his unfortunate circumstance for as long as it lasted.

“You think I’m an evil, skanky bitch, don’t you?” she asked, relishing the fact that he couldn’t

answer. Smiling, she brushed his silky hair back from his eyes—a face like his should never be

obscured.

“I’ll bet you’re wondering if I’ve been corrupted by all those centuries spent in Satan’s service. Am

I right?”

Even though he was paralyzed, the whip’s effect was wearing off, and his expression was enough to

let her know that yes, she was spot-on.

“Let me satisfy your curiosity.” She trailed a finger over his satiny lips, remembering how they’d

felt on hers when he’d kissed her to seal the deal they’d made in Sheoul-gra.

Good grief, the boy could kiss. The last time she’d been brought to her knees by a mere kiss was

with Yenrieth.

Funny how she couldn’t conjure up an image of what he looked like, but she most definitely

recalled how he made her feel. Most of the memories were good ones that made her smile and made

heat bloom between her thighs.

The rest… she couldn’t go there. Not only was it pointless, because he was gone and wasn’t ever

coming back, but her time with him had been so long ago. She needed to concentrate on the future,

uncertain as that may be.

“But I’m not sure
corrupt
is the word we should focus on,” she said. “I prefer…
grow
. I had to grow

up fast down here.”

Reaver’s blond eyebrows climbed.

“Yes, I was an adult when I fell. But I was so naive. I wasn’t a battle angel like you, so I didn’t have

the kind of contact you have with demons. I mostly dealt with humans. Stupid, evil humans I was

charged with delivering justice upon, but humans nonetheless.” She trailed her finger from his mouth

to his ear and spent a moment stroking the soft skin of his lobe. He was so… warm. “As you can

imagine, I was in for a bit of a shock when I entered Sheoul. Looking back, I can see that I should have

thought the whole thing through a little more. I definitely should have prepared better.”

Her cover story explaining her expulsion from Heaven, that she’d killed humans for fun, had been a

good one, and the fact that Satan was her father only made it more believable. Bad genes and all that.

But the reality of life in Sheoul had been more of a shock than she’d expected. The realization that her

father truly was the epitome of evil had been devastating. For the first few decades as a fallen angel,

on some lofty level she’d actually believed there was a kernel of good in him, a remnant of who he’d

been as a Heavenly angel.

Not so much.

But what did that mean for her? Sometimes she didn’t know if there was any good left in her, either.

“Ah, well.” She dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand, not wanting to delve too deeply into

questions she was afraid to be answered. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, isn’t it?”

Reaver took a deep, shuddering breath as his lungs unfroze. She didn’t have much time to drive him

crazy. Which was fun. Maybe a little therapeutic, too. Oh, she wasn’t baring her soul or some shit, but

since he already knew she’d fallen on purpose and with the cooperation of three archangels, he might

as well know some of the story.

Let him see for himself just how evil she’d let herself become.

“The first two hundred years were the worst. Demons and other fallen angels love to torment the

newbie, you know.”

She thought about that. Reaver had lost his wings once, booted out of Heaven and into the human

realm as an Unfallen. But he hadn’t entered Sheoul, which would have turned him into a True Fallen, a

fallen angel with no hope of ever being redeemed. Remarkable, really. Few Unfallen lasted long in the

human realm. The temptation to enter Sheoul and be given new wings and powers as a True Fallen was

too great.

“No, you wouldn’t know. Just trust me.” She smiled down at him. “You don’t trust me though, do

you? Is it because I’m a fallen angel, or is it because it’s not in your nature to trust easily? Either way,

you’re right not to trust me.”

She shoved to her feet, wincing at the multitude of bumps and bruises she’d taken during the battle.

Worse than all of it, though, was the throbbing ache in her wing anchors. Unlike her other injuries, the

pain of her wings trying—and failing—to regenerate was going to intensify and spread through all of

her bones until she was crippled with the agony of it.

Harvester dug the canteen from out of Reaver’s backpack. Returning to him, she straddled Reaver’s

body and sank down on his hard abs. “Are you tired of my talking yet?”

Reaver’s expression softened, but was she reading him wrong? He couldn’t possibly
like
hearing her

ramble. Could he? Because if he did, she’d have to stop.

Except she kind of liked that he was listening.

Way down inside the murky deep freeze that was her chest, something stirred. Something bad, like

angry wasps. Or butterflies. If she were human, she’d think she was getting sick.

She popped the cap on the canteen and carefully tilted it against Reaver’s lips. Water spilled into

his mouth, and he swallowed eagerly. She kept giving him drinks in small doses until he blinked at

her.

“Is that a ‘no more’? One blink for more water, two for no more.” He blinked twice. “You do know

that if I was feeling evil I’d keep making you drink, right? It would be like angel waterboarding. We

could make it a sport. How entertaining.”

Reaver rolled his eyes. No sense of humor, that one.

“You’re going to be talking soon, and that’ll ruin all my sinister plans to torture you with inane

babbling, you know.”

One corner of his mouth turned up, knocking loose a crystal bead of water that had lingered on his

bottom lip. The drop ran along the seam of his lips, drawing her gaze. Never in her life had she wanted

water as badly as she did at this moment. His lips parted, and his tongue swept out to capture the drop.

She swallowed as if she’d been the one to taste the glistening bead, and she found herself leaning

into him, rolling from the hips to slowly plaster her upper body against his. Was it her imagination or

were his eyes darkening from radiant sapphire to a bold, lavish navy blue? Could he actually be turned

on?

His clean scent invaded her senses, permeating every cell in her body. He always smelled good,

even when he was covered in dirt, ash, blood, and the remnants of battle. It never took long for that

honey-spiced angel fragrance to saturate his skin and obliterate everything else.

She wanted to kiss him. To taste those full lips again. The weird thing was that she always took

what she wanted, but for some reason, she was hesitant about this.

Kissing Reaver would annoy him. Maybe even piss him off.

Right. Decision made.

She sealed her mouth against his. Months ago when they’d kissed to seal the sex deal there’d been