Catching Death Read online

  But for tonight, she was his. Fuck Death.

  She moved on the seat, attempting to cover herself with her cuffed hands and only managing to send another wave of her scent his way.

  She wouldn’t know that his kind fed off scent, off desire. She would before the night was done.

  His foot pressed the gas pedal a bit harder.

  Squealing into the driveway, he hit the button on the fob that would lock the gates behind him. Not that security would do a damn bit of good if Death realized what he was up to but it might give him seconds.

  Seconds might be all he needed to get them away.

  Tugging her out of the car, he resisted any temptation to be gentle. Her reaction when he wasn’t told him it would win him no points with her.

  She trailed after him, obedient enough in the cuffs, as he led the way up the stairs.

  And into the room he built just for her.

  Leading her in, he turned to lock the door.

  Then leaned on it and waited.

  She spun in a circle, taking it in, her pale flesh dotted with freckles just barely hidden by the lace demi-bra and boy shorts. Her hair hung, red as a banner, down her back and her eyes went wide.

  “Mirrors.Cuffs. Toys. You must be a very busy boy.”

  Bursting into laughter, he moved off the door and passed her on the way to the bar. “Not really. Like your kind, mine has quite a bit of time at our disposal.”

  “Hmm…” With one delicate foot, she nudged the swing, making it move. “Time made you build a room for fucking?”

  “Nope.” He poured a bottle of water into a glass and offered it to her. She met his eyes as she drank. “Meeting you made me build a room for fucking.”

  She nearly choked, sputtering. “You built this for me?”

  “Yup.”

  Taking in the room again, her smile was slow. “You’ve not used it before? Any of it?”

  “Nope.”

  Spinning again, she turned to him. “Where shall we start?”

  ****

  The room fascinated her. Mirrors threw back her reflection from every available surface. He’d missed nothing, apparently buying out sex toy stores in his quest for the perfect room, offering up a buffet of things of interest.

  None of them compared to the man himself.

  After months of seeing him in meetings, brushing up against him as they passed in hallways, and wondering, and he offered up a toy room.

  Still, there was a possibility he had more money than imagination. Her desires, never easy to satisfy, had only gotten a little more twisted by dealing with the dead daily. She knew that she wanted more than most people were willing to offer.

  That didn’t change what she wanted.

  Jiggling her wrists, she allowed the weight of the cuffs to rest on her hands and waited for his answer. He sipped the water and replaced the glass calmly on the bar before twisting his neck, making the bones pop.

  Then those pale eyes focused on her. “Want a safe word?”

  She shrugged. “You can’t kill me.”

  He raised a brow.

  “Well, you can’t.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want it to go from ‘feels good’ to ‘freaks me out.’” Logical. She could appreciate that.

  “Grape Ape.”

  His half grin made her blush. “Really? We’re about to have some seriously rough sex and you want ‘Grape Ape’ to be your safe word?”

  “Look, it’s not something I’m going to cry out because I’m having a good time.”

  “Good point,” he agreed. “Also, I don’t want you to speak. Not this time.”

  “Or else?”

  She hadn’t seen him pick anything up so the sharp snap of the flogger against her leg startled her.

  “Or else,” he agreed.

  Taking the cuffs in hand, he led her to the wall. This close, she picked up on his scent. She wasn’t sure exactly what flavor of paranormal he was. No one ever felt the need to share it with her. Whatever he was, he smelled good enough to eat.

  With any luck, she’d see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

  When he secured the cuffs to a hook in the wall, she was facing the wall. The hook offset far enough from the surface of the mirror that she could see her entire body and wasn’t pressed against the glass. Looking at herself, stretched long and lean, made her squirm. She didn’t usually get off on looking at herself but the lace did very nice things against her pale flesh.

  Then his body joined hers in the reflection and she did squirm. So much larger, hotter, firmer—just the sight of him got her wetter.

  And then he tugged off the panties. Moving in front of her, he fiddled with the bra, poking holes larger in the lace and then replacing it.

  Leaving her nipples exposed to the air, surrounded by the dark fabric.

  The image that moments ago seemed provocative now tempted, the mangled bra somehow far more erotic than total nudity.

  And then he bent to the toy box.

  Coming up with jeweled clamps, he wiggled them at her before clipping them onto her nipples, the pain almost instantly transforming to edgy pleasure.

  Leaning in, he took her lips and breath with his kiss. Tongue dancing with his, she melted into it. So much in that meeting of mouths—tenderness, passion, hunger.

  Just as her arms automatically fought the restraints, he gave a light tug on the clamps, causing her to moan.

  “Bianca,” he whispered. “I warned you. Not a sound.”

  And then he bit her lip.

  Not hard, just enough to have her trying to climb him, to rub against him and satisfy the spike of lust he caused in her center.

  “Ah,” he backed away. “The legs.”

  Again, all clinical, he caught one of her legs and hooked it into an ankle brace. When he hooked the other, she found herself suspended just inches above the floor.

  Legs spread, pussy pink and plump with desire in the reflection.

  He noticed it glistening, too, because he bent and fastened his mouth on it, that clever tongue of his wrapping around her clit and promising release, lapping at her suddenly too empty pussy.

  Bucking into the air, she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

  “You’re learning,” he said and again backed away from her aching body.

  Moving behind her, he stroked his hands up her sensitized flesh. Her nipples, now aching from the clamps, seemed to tighten more as his hands came close, testing the weight of her breasts. His cock, full and hard beneath his jeans, pressed against her ass.

  The sight of him, cupping her displayed figure with his hands, one hand holding each breast, was almost too much. She let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder.

  Only to find the equally reflective ceiling giving an entirely different view of their play.

  His hands moved down, shaping her ass, and he pulled her up a bit. The chains holding her seemed to give some because he could move her suspended body.

  When he freed his cock, she wanted to cry out in triumph.

  But he only ran it up and down the seam of her ass, adding more temptation.

  She wanted to beg. She wanted to grind against him but his hands controlled the movement of her body like a marionette on strings.

  Moving in front of her, he unhooked the cuffs from the ceiling, allowing blood to flow to her arms again. This allowed her feet to touch the ground…

  But only for a moment. And then he was behind her, shoving her head down and pulling her ass up so that she braced herself on the glass.

  And he entered her wet and needing pussy in one long thrust.

  He was big, enough so that the plunge stretched her and had her crying out. His swift slap to her ass reminded her to stay silent.

  And caused her to come, bucking against his dick. This close to orgasm, the pain translated straight to pleasure and left her rocking off the rest of her climax.

  Another slap and she sucked in air, trying to breathe through the waves of ecstasy buffet
ing her.

  “I didn’t tell you to orgasm.” He sounded amused.

  Her arms shook, trying to keep her position.

  And then he moved. Shoving into her, he found a rhythm, slow and steady.

  Every pump of his body inside her slammed him into her G-spot until she whimpered, another climax so close but impossible to reach. She couldn’t come again. She had nothing left.

  And then he sped up, ramming inside her, the slapping sound echoing through the room. She fought to stay in position, the glass becoming slick from her sweaty hands. Still so close but—

  Tears threatened. So damned close.

  And he yanked off the clamps.

  Screaming, she lost all semblance of control, shaking as lights seemed to dance behind her eyelids. Her hands slid off the mirror and only his firm grip on her ass kept her from falling on her face. She felt, distantly, him coming as he grunted his release and the sight of his face, twisted in a mask of passion, only served to make her shudder harder.

  And then darkness folded her in its grasp.

  Chapter Five

  Blinking against the light, Bianca fought to open her eyes. Her head rested on something warm and firm but was tilted at an odd, less than comfortable angle. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she’d fallen asleep. A smell, like man and sex and home all wrapped in one delicious aroma, surrounded her like a blanket.

  Turning her head, she took in Drake’s chest. Not that she’d ever seen it before but the scent coming off the almost hairless and tattooed body framing hers was unmistakable.

  “You’re awake.”

  Her muscles seemed to be weighted, as if she fought against oatmeal to move. The exhaustion that dogged her steps seemed too heavy, too much. Not able to fully turn herself to look him in the eyes, she spoke to his nipple. “Yeah. I was asleep?”

  “No.”

  Working to move those last inches, she finally cocked her head back enough to see him. “Then what—”

  “You fainted.” Pale eyes, full of concern, met hers. “Sorry. I got a little excited.”

  Closing her eyes, she tried to make sense of that. When nothing came to her, she opened them back up. “Care to explain how you being excited would knock me out?”

  “I should have mentioned…I feed off sex. The smell, the pheromones you give off while you come…all of it. Food for my kind. I’ve never been with a reaper before. Your responses…” He trailed off and seemed to fight for control. Under her leg, which she realized flopped over his as they lay on what seemed to be a silk-shrouded bed, his dick got hard.

  “Keep going. I think you were about to flatter me,” she teased.

  “You’re very responsive to sex.” His lips curled into a grin, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I might have fed off more than you could give up without passing out. Sorry.”

  “Listen, Drake, being fucked senseless is not the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Her strength returned while they chatted and she dug her nails into the chest her head rested on.

  His soft growl caused a curl of heat to dance between her legs.

  “You’re not up to sex again already so perhaps we should get dressed before talking more.” He started to move away from her but she caught his face.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “Kiss me, quick.”

  Without hesitation, he bent and took her lips, tongue sliding inside her mouth to stroke hers.

  After a moment, she sighed. He broke the kiss and considered her. “Why the kiss?”

  “It’s stupid. Help me up.”

  “No, now I want to know. Why the kiss?” He pulled her up and into his arms, one hand sliding down her hair in a surprisingly gentle way.

  “Something I started doing when I first had sex. Like I said, it’s stupid.” Trying to avoid answering, she attempted to move out of his embrace.

  His fingers dug into her scalp, stopping her escape. “Tell me.”

  “Well, I don’t know. Guess I always figured sex was great—natural physical function and all that. Just satisfying my body’s urges. But if a man kisses you after and means it, you’re more than a hole to drill his cock into.” She shrugged, embarrassed by her own dumb habit.

  His mouth closed over hers again, this kiss both hungry and almost loving. He didn’t stop until her knees went weak and her thoughts fuzzy. “There, that’s better then.”

  “Huh?” If she was supposed to think after he did that, she wasn’t sure how.

  “I figured if I was kissing you to show you how I felt beyond the sex, I should do a better job of it.”

  Again, that fast tilt of his lips into a smile and he moved to get a bottle of water.

  Bianca couldn’t entirely stop the impulse to touch her hand to her swollen mouth.

  What if? The question she’d been asking herself lately rang suddenly loud in her head. What if all of it was a waste? What if she only saved Alicia because she, Bianca, needed her? Needed to feel like she’d done the right thing, that she was a better person for having tried to save her? Not that Alicia needed to be saved but that Bianca needed the knowledge that she protected her to have a reason to go on?

  What if she’d fucked up, fucked up so royally there was no fixing it at this point? She could have chased her own love, her own happiness, but she wasted her time, her whole life, protecting someone who didn’t need or want the intervention.

  What if she’d had someone like Drake when she was alive? Watching his naked ass as he walked, her body zinged to life. She liked him. Liked him when they talked, liked him when they had sex…

  Could she have been happy, finding someone like him, maybe, when she was alive if she’d simply butted out of Alicia’s life?

  Was that too selfish? To want to live her own life and seek happiness?

  The answers, always so clear cut before, suddenly seemed murky.

  Maybe she hadn’t done the right thing. Maybe saving Alicia was a mistake.

  For the first time, she wasn’t sure. And she was so damn tired.

  Chapter Six

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see a friend.” Although he might have gained Bianca’s submission in the sack, she was far from willing to submit out of it. “I told you, I’m going to help you.”

  This late night visit should be under Death’s ever-present radar. Although Drake expected to be challenged by other hunters, none had attacked. Two days with her as his passion partner, his lover, wasn’t enough. There must be a way to buy more time.

  Her snort had him catching her wrist and tugging her body close to his. “You don’t trust me?” Her slow smile set his blood to boiling but not in anger. “I’m not sure I can stop being hungry for you if you keep tempting me, little death.”

  The grin transformed into full-out laughter. “Little death is a not very veiled reference to an orgasm.”

  “Oh, I know.” He caught her enticing mouth under his and a jolt of satisfaction filled him when she responded, full of passion, to the kiss. He realized she was a weakness. He’d not allowed himself weakness, not ever in his long life. She was more than that. She made him happy.

  He wasn’t familiar with that sensation either but didn’t want it to end.

  Releasing her, he searched the darkness. The doorway was here, he knew it, concealed by a charm. “We’ve got to find my buddy Grady, if you must know.”

  “This Grady person can challenge Death himself?” Her voice sounded resigned. “You know we can’t win this. Death asked for my head for a reason. I’ve protected my sister as long as I could. Maybe I’m better off giving in. Accepting the truth.”

  Stopping his search, he again focused on her. “Suddenly you’re willing to give up?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been trying for so long to protect her from herself. Have I done it for her or for myself? Asking myself that question and not coming up with a good response is bugging me. Besides, I’m tired.”

  At her long yawn, his stomach twisted.

  His kind, the s
ex eaters, enjoyed long lives. It was a biological fact, not something he really thought about, but just something he took for granted. Her kind, mortals, were short-lived. Like bright candles that burned out as quickly as the wax melted, the same flame that ignited them ate away at the very fuel that fed them until they went out with a silent puff of air. As a reaper, she enjoyed a longer existence but it was a finite one. Death fed them, kept them walking with some unknown magic. Magic always had a price and for reapers it was that eventually their souls dried up, ended. No eternity awaited reapers. No heaven or hell, just done. Game over, thanks for playing.

  She knew that, had to. Would have known it from the moment she opened her eyes after her death and got trained to do her job.

  Admitting she was tired meant admitting that her walk as one of Death’s chosen few was coming to an end. He wanted to refuse the thought but…

  Perhaps she’d known that, taken advantage of Death’s short time remaining with her, when she’d rebelled.

  His stomach twisted, pain almost a physical thing, at the knowledge he could have found her, finally, and been happy for such a fleeting moment only to lose her…for her to end completely and go somewhere he could never hope to follow.

  “There’s an out.” He squeezed her fingers. “There’s always an out.”

  Her eyes didn’t reflect an answering conviction and he spun on his heel, more determined to find the door.

  Fingers catching on the seam, he tried to hide his fears behind a cloak of confidence. “Come on. I have an idea.”

  But once he opened the door, the wind rushed out and tossed him into the other side of the alley like a ragdoll pitched by a careless child to hang suspended by spectral restraints.

  The dark-haired figure that stepped into the alley with one hand raised seemed to leer at him. “You’re a fool, Drake. You really thought you could hide her from me?”

  Death quirked a single dark brow over the eyes that always looked so empty. Like the blue of the universe or the sky right before dawn broke, his eyes seemed to have stars falling in them. The almost glowed with ethereal lights. That empty gaze turned on his lover, and Drake fought to no avail to free himself. “Bianca.”