Page 86 of A Murderous Crow
“You like the way I touch you like this?” He trailed fingers along my ribs and I gasped.
“Yes,” I confessed, and he smiled even bigger.
“I’ll let Corvus know,” he said and kissed the tip of my nose before whispering, “Gimme the other shoe.”
I kicked off my other shoe and he said, “Watch where you step, baby. This is supposed to end in fun, not blood; more’s the pity.”
He let me go, swooped down, and picked up the shoe, backing off me.
“Run rabbit, run rabbit,run, run, run,” he sang out softly, the old 1940s British tune, and I did, I ran, partly because it was the game, but also because there had been a glint in Torment’s eyes, a savage darkness of a type that said if I didn’t he might not want to stop, and he might not want to be gentle – everything about his countenance a silent threat.
I hid and caught my breath.
The game would end at dawn, and if I won, I was guaranteed a shopping spree on Corvus’ card. If I lost, I was going to get some wild sex in a cemetery… so honestly, either way I was winning. But now I was fully invested in not losing any more clothes if I could, and I was particularly interested in not getting too scratched or bruised after Specter’s spectacular tackle.
The way he had taken me down, I was guaranteed to at least have some scrapes if not a plethora of bruises; more than likely on my knees where I’d taken the brunt of the fall. I was glad I had my jeans on, landing like that on my bare knees would have left me bloody.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t looking good for me making it to dawn; not that I really wanted to, because again, that mourning dove call, and again, bootsteps and the rustle of leather closed in on me.
I slid around the monument I’d hidden myself against, and stood carefully, edging until it was between me and the sounds of the hunt.
I walked carefully, I didn’t run, as walking created less noise. I had reached the view of the caretaker’s house, and was nearly to the locked front gate, when a large shadow detached from the rest to my left, and stepped into the aisle. I groaned at having been caught again, when arms closed around me from behind, and a hand went over my mouth.
I squeaked from behind that hand and practically went limp against the hard chest at my back.
“Gotcha, baby,” the voice in front of me said, and with a chuckle and a few steps forward, it resolved into Grim.
I leaned my head back against the shoulder behind it and craned my neck, trying to see who was behind me, but I’d been told that where Grim was, Reaper wasn’t far behind him. Sure enough, Reaper held me fast, his chest rising and falling at my back a little rapidly for my tastes, as though he was wrestling with his self-control.
“Oh, will you look at that… there’s two socks on two perfect feet. Lemme have her.” Grim held out his arms and I was pushed, unceremoniously into them, he spun me around and held me fast the way Reaper had held me the moment before, my back to his front. I bit my lips together to keep from making a sound to draw anyone else to us as Reaper got really close, looming in front of me. He took my face between his hands, lowering his lips beside my ear and murmured, “How’d this happen, huh?”
He took my hands and turned them palms up, stroking his thumbs over the heels of my hands. I hissed from the sting and brought them up to my face. They were skinned pretty bad, but I hadn’t noticed. Partially from the adrenaline swirling through my veins, and partially from the chill in the air, numbing them.
“Must have been when Specter tackled me,” I whispered.
He lowered his face over my hands, his tongue flicking out. He tasted the dirt and the blood and I gasped at the sting in the wake of his warm, wet, tongue against the small wound, the sting intensifying.
“That issounsanitary,” I murmured, slightly horrified, and Grim chuckled.
Reaper went to his knees in front of me and looked up as though in worship, which made me still, and my heart quiver in my breast.
“One for Grim, and one for me,” he murmured up at me, and took first one sock, then the other, stuffing them in his pocket.
I shuddered and gasped, as Grim’s teeth lightly set in the side of my neck and he flicked his tongue over that sweet spot that sent goosebumps down my arms.
“You smell like peaches and sunshine on this starless night,” he whispered in my ear, as he breathed me in. I closed my eyes at the poetic words, Reaper’s fingertips skimming up the outsides of my denim clad thighs as he stood. My eyes flickered open in alarm, and I shrank back into Grim who dropped his hands from my waist and took just a slight step back.
Reaper whispered, “Close your eyes, and count to ten.”
I swallowed hard, doing as I was told, counting silently in my head slowly from one to ten, and when I opened my eyes? Both were gone.
I gasped, and turned, this way and that, but neither were anywhere that I could see.
I moved carefully, picking my way over the gravel in my bare feet, hugging myself and heard from under the front porch’s overhang, “Guess it’s my turn… let’s make it a little more fun.”
I froze and Hangman jumped down, over the few steps, and crunched over the gravel to me. He undid my belt, whipping it through the loops on my pants and quicker than I could follow,he had it twisted and pulled through on itself and he said in an authoritative voice, “Hands.”
I brought them up, palms up as I had for Reaper, and he looked at them in the diffuse light coming from one of the upstairs windows, pausing and saying, “Come sit, I’ll run in the house and we can clean that up.” He made a noise, out into the dark, and he led me to the porch and had me sit down on the steps.
