The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) (32 page)

Excited tremors moved through her body. Wanting to give her exactly what she asked for, he gripped her waist. She growled and arced her back. Pressing herself against his erection.

“Oh yes.”

Not able to withstand her temptation another second he slipped completely into her warm haven.

Cian pumped into her. She hissed. Her pelvic muscles milking him, clenching in a vice grip. A wild groan spilled from his lips. Her hands fisted the sheets.

He couldn’t take it. This hellcat. This witchy woman of his heart. He didn’t just want her body. Cian wanted all of her. “My gothic rose.”

Eve rose up, increasing the tempo, matching him drive for drive. The sharp slap of their bodies a testament to the crazy passion between them. It was a riot of lust far too great to ignore. And yet, it was more. This was more than just lust and sweat and passion.

“Yes,” she cried.

The pale flesh of her skin began to glow purest white while his turned darkest ebony. He sucked in a breath, not so lost in his haze not to notice what was happening between them.

He stopped moving and pulled out. Eve gave an inarticulate cry, her eyes widening at the colors of their bodies. Like ice on shadow. She lifted her hand and traced an invisible line between them. Her light banished his darkness.

The pain, anger, it all washed away with the pulsing white light.

“Cian...” she breathed, “what?”

“I don’t know, Eve. I don’t know.” But whatever it was, it felt good. The dark stains inside his soul shrank, faded to the dark hole of obscurity, banished by the beauty of her gift.

He entered her again, her beautiful eyes turned soft. There was no rushing of bodies, but rather a silky melding of hearts.

She wrapped her legs around him.

“Eve,” he whispered, awed by the gift she was giving him.

The lightness and darkness spread like liquid throughout the room. Her legs trembled and she cried out.

He clenched his teeth, tasting her passion. Her climax. She was spiraling through a sexual haze, dragging him with her. A slow burn inched through his veins. Then she burst. An eruption of energy so strong the room shook. With her release came his, and he roared as his seed exploded inside her.

Then all was calm. Two hearts beating in unison. Arms and legs wrapped around each other. Eyes closed, he took a deep breath and willed his heart back to normal.

She broke the silence with her trademark throaty laugh. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Eve. You’ve bewitched me.”

She kissed his forehead, smoothing back his hair. “I think it’s the other way around.”

He wrapped her in his arms, content to just hold her.

“Why did we glow? That was bordering on Sci-fi territory there. And I know magick.”

He shook his head, burying his nose in her hair. “I’m not sure.”

They settled against each other, his fingers lazily drawing circles on her arm. In this moment, in this hour, everything was as it should be. Perfect. And they continued to enjoy each other for several more hours, lost in the wonder of new love.

A static burst of radio from an alarm clock shattered their lovemaking. He glanced at the clock sitting on her end table. His eyes widened as his heart raced out of control.

It was six thirty a.m., and the responsibility of who he was, the truth’s he must tell, all came crashing back with brutal reality.

“Oh jeez, how did I lose track of time like that?” Eve sat up and shut off the alarm with a dejected sigh. She looked at Cian with a sad puppy dog frown. “I have to start getting dressed for work. I wish I could just stay here with you instead.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “But I guess you probably need to get going yourself. Sun’s gonna be up in another half an hour.”

He grabbed her fingers, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was so quiet. A sudden tension began to twist and grow through the room.

She swallowed hard. The sexual high she’d just been on plummeted. She thought back to the
I have to tell you something
moment of a few hours ago and a crushing sense of loss slithered down her spine.

It wasn’t that she was a mind reader, and honestly she couldn’t explain the leeching feeling of dread seeping through her skin, but she knew something terrible was about to happen.

“Eve,” he started and opened his eyes. Their blue depths glittered with sadness.

She ground her jaw, snatching up a green terry cloth robe sitting over the footboard of the bed, covering her body like a shield.

“Cian,” she stopped him, lifting her hand and shaking her head. “Don’t... please.”

He sat up, running a finger down her arm. Even though she knew he was about to tell her something terrible, she couldn’t stop herself from enjoying his touch.

“Eve,” he pleaded. “You’ve got to listen to me.”

She closed her eyes. “Let me preserve this beautiful memory. If you're leaving me--" her voice cracked, "then I won't stop you. But let's not taint what we shared with ugly truth.”

“What I have to tell you, you’ll eventually learn on your own, and you’ll hate me even more for finding out by someone else.”

Pain tore through her heart. Was he married? A murderer? What?

Her hands shook as she stood from the bed and walked to her closet, pulling out a skirt and top. He sighed behind her, and she leaned her head against the door, closing her eyes for a split second.

She didn’t want to know, but at the same time curiosity poisoned her thoughts. She pulled on her clothes and then turned to him.

He was propped up against a pillow, the blanket covering his nude torso. Worry lines marked his forehead as he looked at her with silent appeal.

Moments ago she was the happiest she’d ever been, now she felt nothing but dread. “If you insist, then at least give me enough time to get ready for the day. Because I have a sickening feeling that once I find out, I won’t be able to do much of anything.”

He lowered his eyes and she ran to the bathroom.

***

Eve sat at her kitchen table, the sound of a running showerhead filtered from her bedroom.

Her gut churned with anxiety, wondering what he would say. She closed her eyes, pain spearing her heart.

A loud knock on the front door made her yelp and clutch her chest. She glanced at the clock. It was seven.

“Who...” Then it hit her, the breakfast date she’d made with Curtis. She groaned and dropped her head. Now was definitely not a good time for that.

She marched to the door and opened it. Curtis inclined his head with a bright smile. “Good morning there, Eve. Brought us some bagels and tea.” He held up a white paper sack. Two steaming styrofoam cups in a holder in his other hand.

“Curtis, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about this and I just don’t think it’s such a good time right now.”

He frowned, the light shining in his rich mahogany eyes turned dull. “I’m sorry to hear that. You know what...” He gently pushed his way inside and walked to her kitchen.

Her eyes went wide. Had he just barged in after she’d told him no? Shock rooted her to the spot.

Curtis placed the bag and tea on the counter. “You keep these then. Maybe some other day.”

Eve waited for him to leave, but he just stood there, smiling. She kept the door open and walked toward him, trying to formulate in her mind the best way to ask him to leave. He flicked his eyes toward her and a burning flame of amber undulated in their depths.

Instinctively she recoiled.

“I’m sorry, Eve. I didn’t want it to happen this way,” he said and grabbed her wrist.

A surge of vertigo shot down her skull, into her neck and through her limbs turning them numb. Nothing made sense. A murky haze descended over her mind.

“Come closer,” he demanded.

And she did. Like a puppet being pulled by its strings. She tried to fight it. Told her brain to stop. But it was like a virus had infected her mind. Nothing worked. She thought harder and harder.
Stop. Please stop. What’s happening? My goddess, I’m still moving. I can’t. I can’t...

She was outside herself, watching this all happen like it was a movie on a screen. Inside she wailed, screamed. A shiver of panic stole her breath.

He looked at her, squinting his eyes. His nostrils flared, and any internal thought she possessed, any ability to realize this was wrong, dissipated.

“Pick up your cup.” It was Curtis speaking, but the voice wasn’t his. It was ancient, filled with incredible power.

She watched her hand reach out and pick up the cup.

“Take off the lid.”

Trembling fingers tore the lid off.

“Now,” he opened the paper sack, pulling out a small white canister, “add some sugar.” He opened the lid.

Small yellow flecks filled the jar. She blinked. The label on the side read “wolfsbane.”

“It’s not sugar,” she whispered. Eve tried hard to think, to remember why that wasn’t good. Deep down, aware that something was terribly wrong.

“Of course it is,” he said, and pushed it toward her, dipping a spoon into the jar and pulling it out to show her the white granules of sugar.

She sighed and smiled. Of course. Harmless. “Sugar for my tea.”

“Yes, that’s right. Put some in.”

She dropped two spoonfuls of sugar into her cup.

“Good. Very good. Now stir it, Eve.”

She stirred.

“Drink it.”

She brought the cup to her lips, steam curling under her nose, liquid barely sliding against the skin of her lips--ready to swallow, to take her first taste of the brew. But not yet. Something inside her, something stopped her at the last minute; all she could do was hold the cup against her lips.

“Drink it, Eve. Drink it now!” Curtis commanded. Then he sucked in a breath, his gaze darting to the hallway. He swiped his hand through the air and vanished.

“Eve!” Cian roared, running into the living room and breaking her from her trance.

Startled, she screamed and jerked, pulling the cup away before the first taste. A small splash of hot tea spilled onto the front of her shirt. She hissed as it scalded. Then she frowned at the blank slate of time lost.

She stared at her hand. Confusion clawed at her throat. She couldn’t remember. What was she doing holding tea? When had she made it? She looked at the styrofoam and her eyes widened. Dazed, she sat the cup down on the kitchen table.

What was going on?

She looked to Cian and her jaw went slack.

“Are you okay?” he asked, running up to her.

“What’s happened to your hand?” she shrieked, staring at the macabre ivory of bone.

He closed his eyes and hugged the skeletal hand to his chest. “This...was what I needed to tell you.”

This wasn’t how he’d wanted to tell her, but when his hand had shifted all reason had fled and he’d run to her with one thought in mind--keep her safe.

He glanced around the room. There was nothing. No feeling of death lingering in the air. He’d felt death. He was sure of that. Where was Frenzy? The reaper had to be around.

“Cian,” her voice shook, “what is going on?” Distress sparkled in her golden gaze.

Something he’d like to know himself. These circumstances felt wrong. How could he always sense another reaper but never see him?
Think, Cian. Think. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. If you can solve this riddle, you can figure out how to save her
. He knew that. Instinctively, he knew that.

“Tell me.” Her voice was a tight thread of anxiety.

She wanted his answers. He wanted answers. His mind was split. He couldn’t focus on two things at once. And the thread of doubts concerning Frenzy became hazy, foggy. He lost his train of thought.  

“Eve, I...”

“You’re what? Tell me. Get it over with. Who are you, Cian?”

“I’m not who you think I am,” he growled, refocusing on her.

She flinched, and her fear stabbed through his heart.

His nostrils flared at the metaphysical pain. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

“I...”
Do it, damn it! Tell her now.
Panicked, he said in a rush, “Eve, I killed your husband.”

She didn’t make a sound, but the chill of her pain encased him in burning frost. It was like licking flames eating at his flesh, tearing him apart from the inside.