Reaver

“I’ve never been a model of angelic purity,” he said roughly, and she wondered if the note of bitterness in his voice was real or imagined.

“No shit.” She sauntered up to him and stabbed her finger into his breastbone. “So now that you have some memories back, maybe you can tell me where you went after you seduced me, took my virginity, and then told me I disgusted you.”

Inhaling a ragged breath, he closed his eyes. “What I did to you… I’m sorry—”

She jabbed him in the chest so hard he winced. “I don’t give a hellrat’s ass about your apology,” she snapped. “Where did you go?”

He opened his eyes, and while she was gratified to see a shadow of hurt in them, she also felt a little bad about putting it there. Emphasis on little.

“I don’t know. My new memories are limited to me and you.”

“How convenient.” She spun around, paced to the far wall, and then came back at him. “What else do you remember?”

“I remember going to you after I found out I was a father. You were the first person I told. I confided in you.” The hurt in his eyes morphed to blue-fired anger. “But you already knew. You’d known for f**king years.”

Guilt ripped into her with such force that her knees nearly buckled. But she couldn’t let her pangs of conscience derail her need for answers.

“So you remember that, but do you remember any of the shit you did to me? Do you remember how I did everything you ever asked of me, including giving you my blood so you could bond us?”

“Shit.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I remember that. It was a few months before Lilith. We’d just advanced in novice demon hunting training.”

“And you wanted us to be able to feel each other if we got into trouble.”

He hesitated, and the air inside the Boregate grew thick with tension. “There was more to it than that.” He stepped closer, and the musky scent of his skin filled her nostrils. “I didn’t tell you the rest.”

A sinking sensation filled her chest cavity. “You lied?” God, she’d been such a fool. Such a stupid, lovesick, spineless, idiot.

“Only because the truth would have sounded crazy.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “And what was the truth?”

“That we needed to do it.” He shoved his hand through his blond mane, leaving it messy and begging for her touch. Even though she hated him right now. “It was just a feeling I had, something we had to do, but I didn’t know why.”

“And now you do?”

“Maybe,” he breathed. “I think the bond is what’s helping me get my memories back.”

“Well, good for you. Glad I could help.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “I am, too.”

She drank in the sight of him as he stood there, his chest heaving as though they’d sparred with their fists instead of with words. And now, she realized, in all the memories she had of Yenrieth, he was no longer faceless. The angel who laughed with her, played tricks on her, and had brought her to the most amazing orgasms was the male standing in front of her.

“So what now?”

He propped one boot casually behind him on the wall. Because yeah, this was all just so run-of-the-mill. “Now we wait for this Boregate to take us somewhere.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“Do you really think now’s the time to discuss our future? We don’t know if we’re going to survive the rest of the day let alone the next century.”

He was right, but his dismissal still stung. For thousands of years she’d wondered what she would do if Yenrieth reappeared, the scenarios ranging from a cheesy joyful reunion in which they’d run at each other and she’d leap into his arms to her killing him in a fit of rage.

Most of her imaginary reunions involved him falling to his knees and begging forgiveness while she listened patiently until she’d had enough. Then they had wild, intense sex and he swore to never let her go again.

What a joke. Of all the fantasies she’d come up with, none of them had involved them being on the run from Satan and darkmen.

“Let me ask you something.” She squared her shoulders, wincing at the sudden, intense itching in her back as her wings regenerated. A good sign, but annoying. “After you found out I knew about your children, when you seduced me, did you want to have sex with me, even a little? Or was it all for revenge?”

His gaze hit the floor, but not before she caught a glimpse of shame. “I don’t remember.”

“My ass,” she spat out. “You must have some idea. Some feeling.”

“The feeling I get from that day is anger. So if I had to guess, I’d say it was all for revenge.” His eyes snapped up to hers, as brutally cold as his words, and her chest constricted around what was left of her shriveled heart. “Was that what you wanted to hear? Or should I have lied?”

She’d have been fine with a lie, and how f**ked up was that? Son of a bitch, he could throw her off balance, and if there was anything Harvester hated more than being tortured, it was being unsure of herself and her emotions.

“Fuck you, Reaver.” Irrational anger gripped her in sharp talons as she spun away from him, needing as much distance as she could get in the damned shoebox they were trapped inside.

His exasperated voice followed her. “You asked.”

She braced her forehead against the opposite wall, letting the cool stone soothe her. But it didn’t do much to alleviate the anguish building inside her.

Shuffling noises filled the room and she tensed as she felt him come closer. “In case we don’t make it out of Sheoul, I need you to know I’m thankful for what you did for my sons and daughter. I can’t thank you enough.” He swallowed audibly, an almost pained sound. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a fallen angel, you know.”

“Maybe. Depends on the fallen angel.”

She laughed bitterly. “If you’re counting on me to wipe the slate clean and tell you to go on your merry way, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m not Verrine anymore. I’ve had to do things to survive that would make your feathers molt.”

“You think I don’t get that?” He made a sound of frustration. “I’m not Yenrieth anymore, either. But we’re both paying for things we did when we were those people. Maybe it’s time to stop.”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep, rattling breath. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. He’d hurt her so badly that she wasn’t ready to let go of the pain. And maybe it wasn’t as much that he’d hurt her as it was that she was an evil bitch who was more about revenge than forgiveness.

No, she definitely wasn’t Verrine anymore.

“You want to stop paying for what we did as Verrine and Yenrieth? What about what we’ve done as Harvester and Reaver?” Pushing away from the wall, she swung around to him. “I smashed you under a mountain. I tricked you and tortured you. Can you really get past that?”

His eyes raked her from head to toe, as if he was trying to see the angel he’d once known. “I already have. But what about you? You said everything you felt for me, as Reaver, makes sense. I know you hate me, but what else?”

“What else?” Her first instinct was to tell him to f**k off. But they both needed a little honesty and a lot of answers now. “Lust,” she said boldly. “I despised you, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to screw your brains out every time I saw you.”

Heat flared in his eyes, and she smiled inwardly. “That’s why you made that deal with me in Sheoul-gra.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well admit I wanted to f**k you, could I? You’d have laughed in my face.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I would have.”

Even though she’d known what he was going to say, it still felt like he’d kicked her in the gut.

“Release me from the deal, Harvester.”

Her heart kicked against her ribs. “What? Never.”

“Why not?”

Because now it was more important than ever. It was the only hold she had over him. The only weapon she had against the only person in the world who could still crush her heart.

“Because I said so,” she snapped.

Reaver looked down at the ground, his golden mane falling forward to hide his expression. It took forever before he finally looked up, and when he did, his eyes held a predatory gleam that took her breath away.

“Do it.” He moved toward her, his broad shoulders rolling like a lion on the prowl. “I betrayed your trust once. Now I’m asking you to give me another chance.”

Harvester’s pulse pounded in an erratic rhythm as he drew closer. The air between them grew thick with a sultry, erotic heat she felt on her skin like a sunburn. This was how it had been the day he seduced her. He’d been so sure of himself, so confident that she’d give in. And she had.

Then he’d crushed her.

“Why should I?” Her voice was humiliatingly hoarse.

“Because you don’t need anything to hold over my head.” He stopped a foot away, an unyielding wall of muscle that blocked her view of everything but him. His voice lowered to a sensual drawl. “You don’t need a verbal contract between us.”

Was he saying what she thought he was saying? That he’d have sex with her even if she didn’t force him to? Or was this a repeat of that wonderful and horrible day so long ago? What if he was tricking her to get out of the deal?

“Harvester,” he said, but in her head she heard an echo of “Verrine.” “Release me. Trust me.”

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. It would be too easy for him to hurt her again.

But she wanted to be good. How could she do that if she was clinging to a bargain she’d intended to use selfishly? Maybe doing as he asked would be a first step toward making amends for five thousand years’ worth of evil deeds. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">