Angel's Pain. Maggie Shayne

about it deteriorating and killing the girl once it did, unless it was removed in time. Like he gave a shit.

      All Gregor knew was that he had a way to track down Reaper, a way to watch him, to get an advantage over him. He wanted that bastard. He wanted his power, and he wanted to exact vengeance.

      And as for Briar, oh, he was going to enjoy hurting her. She had betrayed him.

      She would die slow.

      But for right now, Gregor had to focus on the matter at hand. He’d left the agent hanging—quite literally, he thought with a smile—and told his son to take care of getting him down and into a bed. He’d had to hurry to get here, to Dwyer’s home and his computer, while enough of the night still remained.

      And now, even as dawn approached, Gregor remained, riveted to the screen, watching and seeing it all just as Dwyer had described. He saw Reaper, his face above the girl, as he apparently carried her through a house. He saw the house, as well, through the girl’s eyes, though her vision seemed blurry. He saw the girl being placed in a bed and Reaper bending over her. And Briar was right beside him, damn her.

      Seeing Briar’s wild hair and dark, dark eyes again was like feeling a blade twist in his chest. He didn’t like that feeling.

      There were others there, too, and as he watched and listened, he learned their names. Roxy, a sexy redheaded mortal, and Topaz, a beautiful, classy brunette. He thought the redhead might be one of the Chosen, but he wasn’t sure.

      And then, as he watched, the girl started ranting about needing to go, needing to go to him, to the boy. The boy. And then static filled the screen and a shape took its place, slowly taking form amid the snow.

      He frowned and narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to the screen. It was…it was Matthias. Dammit! How was that possible?

      Clearly he had more questions to ask of Derrick Dwyer. But they were going to have to wait until nightfall. The sun was tugging at his senses, dulling them. He was going to have to take refuge in Dwyer’s house for the day. But he had one more task to accomplish before he surrendered to the power of the day sleep.

      He had drones in place in various locations around the country, ready to obey his commands, some of them to the west, where there were still a few hours of darkness left. He phoned them now, to set his plan in motion.

      Briar ignored Reaper’s presence and went to the fridge, opened it and removed a plastic bag with the Red Cross logo on its face. The fridge had two doors, a lower one that was larger and an upper one that was smaller. It looked just like a full-sized model with the freezer on the top, only about a quarter of the size. But when she opened the top door she was surprised to find a microwave instead of a freezer.

      “Damn, where do people even find shit like this?” She tossed the bag in and hit the 30-second button. Then she looked around for glasses.

      Reaper walked over from the other side of the room, a wineglass in each hand. “They were in the cabinet over there,” he said. “Here.”

      “Two? I don’t remember inviting you to join me.”

      “I don’t remember offering to leave.”

      She pursed her lips, but opened the microwave when it beeped and removed the bag. Then she filled the two glasses. There was some blood left in the bag, so she downed hers quickly, then refilled her glass, which she set on a table near the bedroom door before knocking softly. “There’s a drink out here for her, Roxy, when you’re ready.”

      “Thanks, Briar,” Roxy called.

      Nodding, Briar turned, crossed the room and entered the bedroom she would be calling her own for as long as she was here. As she did, it crossed her mind that maybe it shouldn’t be for very long. It might be better all around if she just left.

      She stood just inside the doorway, examining the bedroom. The same color scheme as the room in between: cream and pine. French doors, sheer curtains, a balcony beyond with wrought-iron patio furniture, all curlicue vines and leaves. The bed was huge and soft-looking. Two doors set side by side must lead to a closet and a bathroom.

      The place was incredible.

      Too bad she couldn’t stay long.

      “You going to be all right?” Reaper asked.

      “Yeah. I always am.” She waited for him to say good-night and get the hell out. He didn’t, though.

      Finally she turned and faced him. “You hanging around for a reason?”

      “Yeah.”

      He held her eyes. And he didn’t need to elaborate from there, because she felt it. A slowly building flame of desire flickering inside him. He’d been keeping it banked ever since the first and only time they’d had mind-blowing sex in a car on a city street. She’d done it to distract him and delay him, on Gregor’s orders.

      But that didn’t mean she hadn’t enjoyed it. And that had shocked her. She’d never had an orgasm with a man before that night.

      “I could stay,” he said. “If you want me to.”

      3

      Reaper watched the reactions cross her face one by one. There was surprise, a slight lifting of her lush, dark brows and a widening of her deep brown eyes. That reaction was brief, little more than a flash. It was followed quickly by those same eyes narrowing, the brows gathering close, a look of suspicion and perhaps even dislike.

      “We’re not going to start having sex on a regular basis, Reaper.”

      He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about a regular basis.”

      “The next thing you know, you’ll be going cow-eyed and sappy—like Jack is over the princess. It would make me puke.”

      “I was offering sex, Briar, nothing more. If you’re not interested, it’s all the same to me. Just don’t go to sleep with the idea that I’m going…what did you call it? Cow-eyed or sappy over you. You’re not the type to inspire that sort of reaction in a man.”

      She turned away as he watched her, and he wondered if his barb had stung her just a little. But that would imply that she had feelings, and she’d gone to great lengths to make sure everyone knew she had none.

      “So you’re just like every other man I’ve ever known, then. You just want to get laid.”

      “If I just want to get laid, I’m a bastard. If I feel something for you, I’m a sap. I can’t win with you, can I, Briar?”

      “No. You can’t. Why don’t we leave it at that and call it good?”

      “Fine.” He turned and stalked back into the suite’s shared living room, then paused. “The truth is, I thought you could use a little relief. Despite your denials, I can see that you’re worried about Crisa, frustrated by her sudden rebellion against you, drained by sharing her pain. A little distraction from all that, a little release, would do you a world of good.”

      “Sounds remarkably sappy to me. As if you give a damn.”

      He turned to see her standing in the bedroom doorway. “Not at all. I’m just a bastard who wants to get laid.”

      She smiled just slightly. “That’s better. Go find a pretty victim, Reaper. Take her by force, or make her submit by controlling her mind, drink her and fuck her and enjoy yourself.” Then she tipped her head to one side. “No doubt you’ll top it off by making her forget it happened, or telling her to remember it as a pleasant, erotic dream.”

      “Is that what you intend to do with what’s left of the darkness?” he asked.

      She met his eyes, and a spark of desire, unmis-takable, flashed in hers. “Jealous?”

      “Not in the least.”

      “So are you going to take my advice, then?”

      “No.”