Page 63 of Reaper's Quest
He grabbed the back of my cloak and yanked me around, bringing me face-to-face with his ugly mug. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”
A growl slipped between my teeth. “Don’t touch me.”
Unless you want to lose a hand.
I reached for my compacted scythe then hesitated.
Winter had become a knife poking at my side. A blood-boiling nuisance. But he wasn’t a part of the assigned reaping task.
Forgoing my reaper tool, I drew my arm back and swung, punching the white-washed jackass in the nose. Our skin connected with a fleshythump. He stumbled, his expression stunned, as I pulled my hand back, my knuckles bloody.
I fought a too-satisfied smile. I had wanted to do that since laying eyes on the cocky bastard.
And if Winter acted like a jealous beau with some sort of claim on Raven, then I would knock him down a peg or ten. Because, of the two of us, I held a stronger interest as her partner in the reaping. And whatever relationship he imagined existed served little claim…if any.
Winter touched his face and ogled the bloodstain upon his fingers. I didn’t know if I’d broken his nose, and I didn’t care. I only cared about the job, returning home, and maybe Raven and Aldine.
Winter’s eyes narrowed to near slits. He stalked closer,the atmosphere around him charged. His scrutinizing gaze dropped over me, his nostrils flaring, the rims of his pointy ears reddening. With a pivot, he turned and strolled away.
Reaping gods, I hated that dick.
I dropped into a chair and sighed.Crap of a day.
No more than a minute later, Aoes placed a pint of ale on the table before me. “The wound is ugly but clean. She should be fine.”
As if I was worried.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and mentally affirmed that I wasn’t, in any way, concerned about Raven.
Aoes slid into the seat beside me and laid his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged free of his touch, and if my rejection bothered him, he didn’t allow it to show.
“How about you?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
“Yep.” I wasn’t sure.
I sucked in a deep-as-I-could-go breath. In long, out calm. Then I scratched my head, hoping to claw the unwanted debris from my mind.
The Royal Citadel of Veritas was a reaper’s test that put all other assessments and assignments to shame. Made them look like toddler games. But I refused to let the current job buckle my resolve.
Aoes pushed to a stand. “Raven mentioned she’s hungry, so I thought I would make a quick meal for everyone. What do you say?”
I nodded. Maybe food would fill the void in my gut. If not, a meal surely wouldn’t hurt. At the very least, preparing a meal would give Aoes a reason to be elsewhere and not pressing into my business.
He left me to stew with my pint of ale. And stew I did.
Winter and Raven entered the room and took a seat a few tables away. I drank, something I rarely did, and closely regarded the way Winter helped Raven with her bandages. She held her arm out, and he wrapped the dressing around and around her hand to swath her salve-covered wound with great care. He spoke softly with a gentle smile.
I rubbed my sternum against the sudden rush of indigestion.
Raven laughed at something he said, and her cheeks flushed. If she had seen what the messed-up locals looked like when they tackled her, she wouldn’t be laughing. Her insides would likely be twisting as mine did.
Because…the zombified citizens who attacked her might not have acted on their own. Could they have been directed by the one I’d spied hiding in the shadows? Something about that individual, about the situation, felt off, and I couldn’t explain why. But if that were the case, why would someone want to organize the undead to attack Raven?
They’d shown no interest in me. Only her.
A sudden shiver of realization raced through me. I was staring a tad too intensely at Raven. What was wrong with me?
Averting my gaze, I returned my attention to the pending situation surrounding the souls of the citadel. Not Raven’s laugh, or smile, or the way she brushed her glossy, black hair to the side. Those things held little to no significance.
