Page 4 of The Reaper's Mate

“Seems fine to me.” The giant puts one large hand on my waist and turns me toward where he put Myers through the wall.

I maneuver through the partiers, but they don’t part for me. I almost take an elbow to the face as one guest does his best “Magic Mike” impression.

The giant grows impatient. “Move!” His voice booms over the speakers, and I swear I see another small plume of dust shoot up around the hole in the wall.

A path clears ahead of us, and I hurry forward. The giant presses his palm against the small of my back, his hand large enough to span the entire distance. The thought pleases me far more than it should.

When we get to the spot, sure enough, Myers is gone. The Hotel Aurelia, one of the finest buildings in the French Quarter, has a person-sized hole in its wall, and I have no valid explanation for the damage. This could ruin me. If Mrs. Trevor were to see it, she’d trash my fledgling party planner business, and all my hard work would go to waste.

“See? If he’s strong enough to run like a coward, then he’s fine.” The giant’s voice carries more than a hint of satisfaction.

I whirl on him. “Do you have any idea what it will cost to fix this? Is this a game to you? I’m in charge of this party, and you are dead set onruiningit!”

“It’s just a wall.” He runs his fingers down the feathers attached to my back.

I tremble despite the fact that I can’t feel his touch. I’m angry with him, but the way he looks at me with those otherworldly eyes sends heat racing through my veins and tension pooling between my thighs.

No! You’re angry with this asshole.“This wall is three times older than you are, and you just tossed a guy through it!”

“I’m far older than some bits of wood and plaster.” He raises his hand and runs the tip of his index finger down my jaw, to my throat, then lower to my collar bone. The top I’m wearing is Halloween-appropriate for New Orleans—low cut and sexy. I had second thoughts about the outfit, especially since I got it from the plus size section of the Halloween shop, but the way he looks at me—as if I were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—dissolves my usual self doubt.

His eyes drop to my breasts, and I swallow hard. I should grab his hand and stop its descent. I don’t. Instead, I bite my lip when he trails his fingers over the swells of my breasts. My nipples harden and tingle, and I wonder if I’ve somehow been roofied, though I haven’t had a drink all night.What is wrong with you?It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t want to fight it. Instead, as I stare into his eyes, I want to give in. He raises his other hand to cup my cheek. I can’t find my breath as he leans down, way down, until he’s only a whisper and a prayer away from my lips. His black robes fall around me, cloaking me in his darkness, and I close my eyes.

“Boss, seriously, my junk is freezing off.” Vera’s voice in my ear startles me back to reality.

The giant growls. And I don’t mean like a frustrated groan. I mean he actuallygrowlsas he pulls back. That’s when I know I need to get away from him. The eyes, the darkness, the way he feels like a shot of opiates in my veins—no, no, and a big no. I turn on my heel and walk away.

CHAPTER THREE

MATHIEU

SHE FEELS IT THEsame as I do. The pull. The need for me. I follow her, unable to do anything else. The need to claim her aches in my chest, but I want her to feel safe. I want her to know it’sme, her mate, that claims her. So, I’ll follow her swaying hips, her round ass, and her shapely legs wherever necessary. Then, once I complete her little task, I’ll claim her delicious body and take her to her new home. Easy.

She glares at me over her shoulder as we exit the ballroom, her aura flaring and popping. “Stopfollowing me!”

“You don’t want my help?”

“Shit.” She shakes her head, as if to clear it. “Yes, I do. You’re just making me …” She throws her hands up, the nails painted a light pink.

Pink reminds me of her nipples. I could see their shape through her top. What color pink would they be? Light or dusky? My already-hard cock surges at my imaginings. In the end, their color doesn’t matter. All that matters is that they will be in my mouth as I sink myself between her legs. I groan at the thought.

“What was that?” She tosses me a look as we hurry past the catering staff.

“Nothing.”

Some of them ogle her, and I want to destroy them. The desire to grab my scythe and cut the men down is only overshadowed by my need to stay close to her. Laying them to waste can’t happen … Yet. I pin each of them with a hard look as we pass.

“Fabulous party, darling!” An older woman in a Cleopatra costume calls from across the kitchen.

“Thank you, Mrs. Trevor. Everything to your liking?” Annabelle’s voice remains bright, though her aura darkens the slightest bit. Cleopatra stresses her out for some reason.

“Very well done. I think the only thing we lack is more champagne.” She snags a chocolate covered strawberry and runs her tongue along it while giving me a pointed stare. “And maybe a few more handsome fellows like that one with you.”

“I’m on it.” Annabelle takes a few more steps and stops. “I mean I’m on the champagne, not on the men.” She coughs.

“No judgment here, darling.” She eats another strawberry with lascivious gusto, and I’ve never pitied fruit more.

“I’ll be back in just a moment, Mrs. Trevor. Please enjoy your party.”

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