Reaver

Tav used his bow to gesture to a path that wound between trees and jagged stones. “Calder’s scouting the route ahead. We lost Matt in the Valley of Screams, but he knows this is where we’re supposed to meet.” Tav’s voice, normally level, was strained. “I hope the warg’s okay. He’s my drinking buddy. Plus, he’s supposed to introduce me to his sister. She’s a p**n star. Fucking cool.”

Reaver hoped Matt was okay, too, but for different reasons. Reaver liked the guy, but more important, Matt had agreed to be Harvester’s blood source. Now they were stuck waiting for him. Without blood, her wings weren’t going to heal quickly enough to help them, and without wings, she was almost powerless.

He shifted Harvester in his arms. “She needs to heal. Can you zap her?”

“No can do,” Tav replied. “I drained myself. Didn’t you see all the dead croucher demons at the top of the canyon? The ones with popped eyes?” He jerked his thumb at his own chest. “My work. I’m awesome.”

Well, Reaver couldn’t explode eyeballs, but he had other tricks up his sleeve, and they needed to take shelter. He turned to the larva-nettle bushes and froze them with a mere word, turning them into ice-glazed salads.

Harvester squirmed in his arms. “What’s happening?” Her voice was so raspy he could hardly understand her.

“We’re at our rendezvous,” he said. “I’m going to put you down.”

“Bastard.” She clung tightly to him. “Don’t go.”

Only Harvester could push someone away while simultaneously keeping them close. She was the most contradictory person he’d ever met.

And the fact that she wanted him to stay near was an indication of how traumatized she was. He’d seen her in emotional and physical pain before, and her response had always been to retreat like a wounded animal.

“I’m not leaving.” He ran his hand over her hair in long, soothing strokes, but she didn’t release her iron grip on his shoulders. “I promise. I have to clear out a place to rest, but I’ll be only a few feet away, and Tavin will be here with you. Do you remember him? He tried to kill Arik that one time. Limos still gives Tav the evil eye for nearly gutting her husband.”

“It was nothing personal,” Tavin muttered. “I am an assassin.”

Harvester nodded, but Reaver still had to peel her off him. He placed her gently on the ground, where she wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled, her body shaking. She wasn’t cold, not in this sweltering heat. But he knew too well how trauma and fear manifested, and he hoped that once she’d eaten, rested, and cleaned up her strength and stamina would return.

But would she return? She could be a world-class wench when she wanted to be, but he much preferred that over the quiet, frightened Harvester. This new Harvester could have him softening toward her, and he’d learned that she was a master at exploiting soft spots.

Tav gave him an I-got-it-handled nod, and as quickly as Reaver could, he wrestled iced-over branches aside and burrowed his way into the center of the bush. At their cores, larva-nettles were hollow, creating a natural hideaway that few would bother trying to search. Once the thing thawed, it would ignore whatever had secreted itself inside it and would go back to defending itself against anyone who came close.

He removed a blanket from his backpack, spread it on the ground, and went back outside.

Tavin grabbed Reaver’s arm and lowered his voice. “We can’t stay here long. Matt can catch up.”

“I know.” Reaver looked over at Harvester, who was still curled up tight, her forehead resting on her knees as she rocked slowly back and forth. “But she can’t continue like this. We’ve traveled for hours and she hasn’t improved. She needs rest.” He eyed the Sem. “If worse comes to worse, are you okay with letting her feed from you?”

Tavin snorted. “I’m always okay with having a female’s mouth on me.”

Reaver bristled. “Feeding only.”

“Chill, buddy. She’s in bad shape, and I do have standards.”

Reaver wondered if Tav’s standards meant he didn’t do fallen angels, or if his standards were about not screwing badly injured people. Hopefully both.

“Glad we’re clear,” Reaver said, giving Tav an uneasy look. Ingesting incubus blood made a lot of species mad with lust, and the energy expended on sex would lessen the healing effects of the blood.

Plus, the idea of Harvester getting na**d with the demon made Reaver uneasy. And the fact that he was uneasy made him even more uneasy. Why should he care whom she had sex with?

“Clear as a False Angel’s tears,” Tavin said. False Angel tears were toxic to many, so Reaver wasn’t sure how to take that. “But if you’re worried about it, why don’t you let her suck on you?”

Reaver’s c*ck jerked, clearly taking the suck thing the wrong way. “Because it’ll drain my powers, and worse, angel blood can turn fallen angels into mindless beasts.” Harvester was difficult enough to deal with now. “We’ll take turns standing watch. Can you take the first shift until Calder gets back?”

“Yup.”

“Let me know right away when Matt gets here.”

At Tav’s nod, Reaver gathered Harvester in his arms, slipped back inside the bush, and placed her on the thin layer of wool. She simultaneously scooted away from him and gripped his wrist with bruising force until he gently peeled her fingers away.

“I have food and clothes,” he said as he dug through the backpack for a canteen, a bottle of honey, and another blanket.

Crouching in front of her, he draped the second blanket over her shoulders and wrapped her carefully.

She said nothing as he gathered the ends and tucked them into her trembling hands. It wasn’t until he put the canteen to her lips and she’d taken several swallows that she finally spoke.

“Do you have an aurial?”

Shit. Asking about a weapon designed specifically to kill angels didn’t bode well. “No,” he lied.

She let out a ragged breath. “Then how do you plan to kill me?”

“Kill you?”

“Aren’t you here to destroy me?” She sounded almost disappointed.

“Nope.” She didn’t need to know that he’d mentally prepared himself to do exactly that if circumstances called for it. He wouldn’t allow her to suffer at her father’s command for all eternity. He popped the cap on the honey and held it up. “Open your mouth.”

She swatted blindly, knocking the honey to the ground. “Are you taking me to be tortured?” Fisting his T-shirt, she tugged him close, her sudden strength fueled by desperation. “I can’t… I can’t take more. I know you hate me, but please, I’m begging you. Kill me.”

“I’m here to rescue you, Harvester.” Reaver cupped her cheek, hating how gaunt it felt, how papery her skin was under his fingers.

Bewilderment left deep grooves in her forehead as she released him. “But… why?”

Once again, he held the honey up. “Open your mouth, and I’ll answer your questions.” When she hesitated, he added, “It’s just honey.”

She went taut, and he wondered if she was remembering how, when she’d held him captive in her home, she’d spooned honey into his mouth after he’d taken a brutal beating from Pestilence. He didn’t push her, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she finally opened up and allowed him to squeeze a small glop of the life-giving sugar onto her tongue.

Almost instantly, her color improved, and under her sunken eyelids, new tissue began to form.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured.

She hissed, flashing fangs as she struck out again, catching the honey bottle with her elbow and barely missing raking him with her nails. “I’m not your girl.”

“Well,” he said, not bothering to hide his smile from her sightless eyes, “the good news is that the honey gave you back your sparkling personality.”

“And the bad news?”

“The honey gave you back your sparkling personality.”

She huffed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Yep, she was back, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be irritated.

“You want to know why I’m here?” He reached for the honey bottle. Again. “It’s because I know the truth about you. I know you’ve been Heaven’s spy since the Horsemen were cursed.”

Harvester’s fingers tightened on the blanket and her mouth worked silently for a few heartbeats. “Who told you?”

“Raphael.” He squeezed more honey into her mouth.

The pink tip of her tongue swept her bottom lip to catch a sticky drop that clung there. Damn, even as torn up as she was, she exuded a smoky sexuality that had made Reaver crazy from the moment he met her. Sure, she’d attacked him for no reason and he’d hated her instantly, but hatred hadn’t put a damper on the insane desire he felt whenever she was near.

He’d made a conscious effort to avoid her whenever he could because, like it or not, Reaver didn’t have a lot of willpower when it came to lust.

And then she’d forced him to consent to the very thing he’d been trying hard to not even think about.

“You agree to pleasure me at the time of my choosing.”

Harvester wouldn’t thank him for saving her, of that he was sure, but at the very least, he’d make sure she let him out of the ludicrous bargain they’d struck last year when she’d rescued him from Sheoul-gra.

“Raphael?” She frowned. “I still don’t understand. Why would the archangels send you?”

“They didn’t.”

“They… didn’t?” Dropping the blanket, she grabbed his shirt again, this time in both fists. “Tell me they know you’re here. Tell me.”

“They didn’t know I was here,” he said, putting effort into keeping his voice light and calm, even though he wasn’t feeling it, “but we stirred things up pretty good. They’ve probably gotten word by now.”