“Why?” She picked up a champagne flute, sloshing the contents before taking a drink. “Would you rather fuck him instead?”
I leaned forward with a grin. “Yes.”
She laughed and killed the glass in one sloppy shot.
“I am Kiera,” she stated flatly, though I knew that wasn’t her real name. Reapers were classified by letters, with Z being the end before Death himself. K put her in a low-to-mid tier, probably running fewer contracts that required precision over planning, or serving the guild instead of the mission.
“I don’t care,” I said, flipping my phone over when a voice message from Daph finally appeared. Hmm. I’d bet my left corroded artery it was her telling me to fuck off.
“Give me ten minutes,” Kiera dragged a finger around the rim of her empty glass, “and you might rethink that.”
“See, that is where you are wrong,” I replied, taking a deep breath as I lit a cigarette. More time would only make me hate her more.
Wolfe gave me a nod to check if I was okay, and it seemed strange to nod back. To think he was parading the target on Lyla’s head, shoving her into his purview until anyone with a trigger could understand exactly who she was, made me sick, but not in the way you imagine. I should have felt something for her. A shred of remorse! Maybe guilt? But I didn’t. And that was fine, because Lyla did not belong to me, and I was taking care ofmy own. However, Lyla did belong to Wolfe, and that was what bothered me most of all.
“Think so?” she flirted, assuming I was baiting her with the attitude that came standard with my kind. We were all dicks down here, and my personality certainly wasn’t unique. But that is what she wanted: a rough fuck from a stranger. She wouldn’t have singled me out otherwise.
Sure, my hands were black, but the Underworld stained them. Reapers hit the good guys as often as the bad ones. No questions. No remorse. Just dollars. And this is one way she could feel whole. But not from me! Putting her together again was sacrilegious, and I had already died on someone else’s altar.
“How about I offer you a money-back guarantee?” She laughed. “If you hate it. Full refund. Or,” her lip twitched with spite. “Better yet. You give me what I want, and I’ll give you an address to a bunker you may want to see.”
Reapers had amnesty, which meant they could move through territories, wander between factions, and not die for it.
“My dick for Reaper intel?” I scoffed. What was this woman playing at? Was she just bored? “Because that makes a hell of a lot of sense.” I yawned, stretching my arms. “You want to know what I think?”
“Yes,” she smiled.
“I think you’re just trying to lead me to my death and get laid while doing it.”
Kiera’s eyes sparkled with a vacant emptiness that comes from being down here too long.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But if I don’t get what I want, you will never know.”
“Okay, Fucktress,” I called her, watching her petals bloom in all the wrong places. “Why the hell would a K-level Reaper be willing to help me?”
“Because a Z-level Reaper sent me here tonight.” Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time since engaging with me, she stopped flirting. “And you apparently have friends.But,” she nodded toward Lyla, “she doesn’t. Poor thing.”
My neck tightened, a broken fever crawling beneath the buttons of this goddamn shirt.
“Now, lover,” she cooed. “Let’s fuck.”
Kiera shoved off the table, her black eyes ordering me to come along.
I sighed, pushing my phone into my pocket as she led me down a narrow corridor into the side restroom. The door was metal, painted white, and creaked when it opened. Whatever Zade was up to, it was worth the follow, even if this ended with her as fish food. Because if this woman touched me, I wouldn’t think twice before throwing her ass over the guardrail.
“Gah. Getting a guy into the bathroom used to be so much easier,” she said, glancing at her tits in the mirror. “They’re a good size, though, right?”
“I like them bigger,” I admitted, swallowing the image of Daphne’s full breasts in the shower, and the way water slipped down her taut nipples whenever I pressed them between my fingers. Clearing my throat, I leaned against the wall, forcing my dick to behave.
“You’re a real asshole. You know that?” She growled, pulling a fortune cookie from a hidden pocket, and tossed it at me. “Don’t eat it all in one bite.”
I caught it, eyeing the thing as if it might explode. How much money did those fuckers have to James Bond their messages into food?
Kiera turned, her red dress hugging her hips, before she paused at the door.
“You’re up your own ass,” her lethal features knitted together. “My boobs are fucking perfect.”
I gave her a smirk even though she was wrong and pocketed the cookie for another time. Whatever Zade was up to would have to wait. I needed to get back to Wolfe and my so-called queen.