BOOK 2 of the Running With Devils Series
It's been three weeks since Coralynn Bennet was dragged down to Hell and it was nothing like how she imagined it. It was a kingdom of skyscrapers but no sky. Demons ran amok, but limited their bloodthirsty te...
AN: I am completely feral for absolutely no reason.
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The Witch
Each night the Reaper returned, it seemed like the injuries became worse. He would let me do what I could, healing wise, and then would immediately vanish into his room. I wondered what was behind that door that made him so antsy to get back in there.
I had attempted to follow him in last night, but he had dropped some quick witty line about maintaining a strictly professional relationship and protecting my honor. I wasn't sure what I should be more frustrated about: being priestess-zoned or being denied any shred of information on who this guy was.
I felt that the trust I had with him was beyond facial recognition. But it was killing me. I was so insanely intrigued by the man beneath the mask that I would have attempted to rip it from his face if I felt like I was strong enough to overpower him.
"Why are you looking at me like that," he breathed, sucking in a sharp breath as I dabbed gently away at the deep cut along his collarbone.
I pulled my gaze away, awkwardly shaking my head. "Like what?"
"Like you're dissecting all my secrets," he huffed.
A laugh flowed easily from my lips. "I was."
He gave a low chuckle. "Oh yea? And what did you find, priestess? Anything good?"
I pressed the gauze to his skin. "Maybe."
"This should be good," he teased softly. "Spill."
I scoffed. "Why should I?"
"Because I'm an injured male in need of distraction, priestess. And you are very entertaining," he purred.
I sighed, sitting further back on my legs that were tucked beneath me. It had become a habit to find ourselves in the quiet hours of the night alone on the bathroom floor as I cleaned and bandaged his wounds.
"I think you're not as chivalrous as you claim, Reaper," I said carefully, taping down the edges of the bandage.
He gave me a curious look. "How so?"
"It's obvious when you look at me," I said, my mouth suddenly becoming dry. "It's like you're thinking of all the ways you'd like to ruin me."
"And if I was thinking of all the ways I could do such an outrageous thing, what would you do to stop me," he asked, amusement lacing his nonchalant tone.
I brought my hands back, laying them in my lap carefully. Dark blood had found itself beneath my fingernails.
"I'm not even sure I would," I said truthfully. "I have a serious lack of self-preservation."
