Page 68 of The Reaper's Vice

When she’s hot and panting and just at the edge, I pull away, leaving my oxygen with her. With a satisfied smirk, I brush my hair back off my forehead. “So… what’s your favorite color?”

Seraphina looks dazed, her brows coming together as she tries to adjust to the rapid change in subject. “I… what?”

“Your favorite color. Answer quickly.” I laugh, holding up the shock collar remote for her to see.

She raises a brow. “I don’t have a favorite color.” I press the button, and she jerks. “What the fuck? I answered!”

I tut. “Everyone has a favorite color.”

“Well, not me.”

“Maybe you just never thought about it before.”

She gazes at me, her eyes seeming to wander to something above my shoulders. “If I do, I wouldn’t know how to describe it. Just a dark, deep, swirling color. Only, it’s not blue, or black, or purple, it’s—” She rolls her lip between her teeth, eyes searching the air surrounding my frame. “It’s something more. Something different.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

She looks up at me. “It is,” she whispers, biting down hard on her bottom lip. “It really is.”

I kick at the ground, not sure what to do with all this newfound tension between us. “Well, mine’s obviously gold—for the color of your eyes.”

Seraphina crunches her nose. “God, Ihategold.”

“No one hates gold. That’s like hating ice cream or puppies!”

She eyes me. “Lots of people hate ice cream.”

“But notpuppies.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure I could find someone.”

I nudge her with my shoulder, a cheeky grin on my face. “You know what you are? A cynic. I’ll have to train that out of you, my sweet dove. There’s so much to enjoy in life—drugs, sex, severed plant genitalia—the list goes on, really.”

Seraphina laughs hard, a sound that stops as abruptly as it came. When it’s gone, she stares out at the glassy lake, a memory swirling in her eyes.

“My turn to ask a question.”

I cross my arms. “Go for it.”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” she asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Something other than what I ended up with.” A wry smile twists my lips. “What about you?”

“Nuh-uh. You have to tell me yours first.”

I shake my head. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“I won’t. Swear.”

I eye her warily. Then I shove my hand out at her. “Pinky promise?”

She hooks hers with mine without a second thought, rolling her eyes despite the smile tugging her pouty lips. “Pinky promise. Ya damn psycho.”

I take a deep breath, and before I lose my nerve, I blurt out, “I wanted to be a veterinarian.”

She presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “Oh really? That’s so nice.”

I frown, crossing my arms protectively. “You pinky promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

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