Page 20 of Reaper's Hunt

Malik’s grin falters, his eyes narrowing, blood-streaked hands still gripping the knife. “No, I need to go check on Sparrow. This man was after her.”

Once I’m close enough, I pinch his chin between my fingers, forcing his wild eyes to meet mine. “We’ll go check on her right after you shower, put some clean clothes on, and shoes. She won’t be okay if you show up like this.”

Malik pouts, his lips slick with blood, his expression almost petulant. “She likes blood,” he muses. He’s not wrong but I can’t let him run to her like this.

I growl, pointing to the shower in the corner of the basement, a bathroom hidden down here for moments just like this. “Now.”

Ronan chuckles, leaning against the wall, his eyes flicking between us. “How the fuck would Malik know if she likes blood?”

Shit.“How the fuck does he know anything?” I say, turning to Malik, who’s reluctantly stripping off his blood-soaked shirt, tossing it into a pile. “I’m taking him with me to check on her, hopefully so he doesn’t scare the bejeezus out of her.”

“You’re worried about her too, aren’t you?”

“She can take care of herself but that doesn’t mean I’m not just a little worried someone’s after her.” I leave it at that, gesturing to the meat sack dangling from the chains. “Guess you’re on clean up duty.”

Ronan groans, pushing off the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. “I’m only not complaining because I get paid for this shit. Should I put him in some funny position and send the picture in? Maybe have him picking his nose or something?”

“You’re a literal child. Tell me, did he really have a family?”

Ronan snorts, moving toward the bloody mess and kicking at it with his foot. “Nah, that was all bullshit. From the research I could pull up, he was trying to get out. No wife, no kids, just a desperate fucker looking for a way to disappear.”

“What was the point of the torture, then? You usually only pull them down here to catch bigger fish, and as far as I know, we have no idea who hired him.”

“Because he’s not the first hired killer to be in this town,” he states. “He’s just the first one who’s been alive long enough to tell us who his target was. What I’m trying to understand is why Selene would be a target, and that strange look on your face tells me you know.”

“If I did, I’d tell you.” It’s a half-truth, and he knows it.

“I can’t do my job with you in my way.”

He’s not entirely wrong but he isn’t right either. Working as a bounty hunter, occasionally picking up the riffraff for a sizeable payday doesn’t require me to give him the entire picture. However, I’m not really sure why I never told Ronan about Selene, about her pastimes if for no other reason than the fact that we have very different goals. At the end of the day, my job is to protect her. I don’t know where he would stand and so I never made it his problem. Now, though, that thought process is working against me.

Because people are after Selene, but why? Who wants her dead? Do they know she’s the Reaper, or is it something deeper, something tied to her past, toAnabella, the name she buried? None of it makes sense and my head’s spinning though my is agenda clear: see Harley about the latest Reaper kill, check on Selene, make sure she’s not bleeding out or worse, and then find something—anything—to keep my mind from unraveling.

I leave Ronan without an answer and head into the bathroom, the shower’s hiss cutting through the silence. Malik’s in there, head bowed, water pouring over his dark hair, blood swirling down the drain in crimson spirals. Whatever was eating him last night—whatever had him fucking me raw, leaving hickies and bruises across my chest—is back, sinking its claws right back in. His fickle emotions are terrifying, a wildfire that burns through reason, and he acts on them every time. I shed my clothes and step into the shower, careful not to spook him, the water scalding my skin.

Malik whirls around and pins me against the tiles, his forearm pressing my throat, his wild eyes searching my face. Despite the desire to do something in this position, I focus on the uncertainty in his expression. “Babe, what’s going on with you?” I ask, my hands resting on his hips, pulling him a little closer to me. “You’re not usually this wired.”

He pauses before stepping back, his hands dropping to his side, water streaming down his blood-streaked face. “I hurt you. I’m not supposed to do that.”

I shake my head, my hand cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “No, you didn’t hurt me. But something’s wrong. Talk to me.”

Malik’s gaze darts away. “Someone’s after my sparrow.”

“Hey, yeah, but that’s not why you were all messed up yesterday,” I say, searching his face, needing to understand what’s driving him to this edge.

He doesn’t answer as I turn him around, knowing that it’s easier for him to talk when he isn’t facing me. I grab the shampoo from the ledge and start massaging it into his hair, my fingers working through the blood-matted strands, the water turning pink.

“Someone else has been watching her,” he says finally, venom dripping from his tone. “From the shadows. I don’t like it. She’s mine.”

That’s news to me and probably also Selene. She always gets jittery when she knows she’s being watched. She calls me out all the time. Which means she never noticed Malik or the dead guy just a few feet outside the bathroom.

But why now? What’s pulling these threads together?

My hand moves of its own accord, slipping to wrap itself around Malik’s cock, the man arching back against me. Shampoo-covered fingers stroke him as I massage his head with the others, losing myself to my thoughts, almost as if giving Malik pleasure is a way to calm my own emotions.

I’m torn from my head as I find myself pressed up against the wall again, Malik’s hand on both our cocks, roughly stroking us together, using a mixture of water and blood to bring us pleasure. “Shit, babe.”

“I need this,” he growls out, eyes trained on our cocks, his breath kicking up and matching the excitement swirling in my chest. I brace myself on his shoulders, my hips rocking into his chest before he rips that orgasm from me, using our release to continue stroking.

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