I nod once.

Ashen pauses at my door and turns, his gaze lingering on my arm where the shimmering white tattoo is barely visible. He meets my eyes with a look of warning. "Keep your guard up, vampire. At least two others of your kind went missing before I got to you. It's only a matter of time until the Alpha gathers another pack and tries to find you, unless we can find the Alpha first."

He turns away to leave. I pick up a tube of hand lotion from the nightstand and throw it at the back of his head. It makes contact with a satisfying thwack, and the Reaper turns his fiery glare on me.

I'm not the only one the wolves are coming for. If they found Angelwing, they were expecting you, I write.

"I know," he says, pulling a plastic bag from the interior pocket of his blazer and tossing it onto the bed beside me. I pick it up, recognizing the obsidian blade within. I can smell his blood still lingering on its surface through the thin plastic.

"We're going to find the apothecary that made it. And your witch Ediye is going to help us."

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Chapter 10

There's only one thing that's been going through my head since the Reaper left my room this morning:

Ediye is going to murder me. 

It will be a justifiable killing. I deserve it. I've brought trouble to Bian's doorstep with the presence of the Reaper in her Inn, and Ediye is next. She has been my only immortal friend and ally since I went into hiding three centuries ago. I thought I'd put trouble far enough behind me to live close to her again. Evidently, I was wrong. And now that Ashen knows her name and that a connection exists between us, I have failed in keeping her safe from harm.

And now here we are...

...In Ashen's car...

...Driving to her house.

Motherfucker had broken into my room and packed my bag as I worked. Even the katana was already in his car, lying across the black leather of the rear seat.

This is a massive invasion of privacy, asshole, I had scribbled onto a fresh page. I shoved it in his face and pointed at asshole. Then at him. Then at asshole again. Since then, I have been working on a page of ASSHOLE in different fonts and sizes. I show him my progress periodically and he seems to take more amusement in my graphic design efforts than I intended. And by amusement, I mean there's almost, almost, a smirk on his smug Reaper face.

We stop for lunch halfway along our drive and I'm scowling and broody when I slump down in the seat across from Ashen with my notebook flipped to a fresh page and my pen in hand. There is a light in his eyes as he watches me, something akin to mirth. I want to punch it right off his beautiful face.

Ashen orders venison, I order black coffee, and we sit in simmering silence until the waitress brings a basket of warm bread to the table, eyeing my lunch companion as though he is a slightly terrifying yet intriguingly delicious menu item. When she leaves, Ashen sweeps a thick slab of butter across a piece of bread with a languid pass of his knife. I flip to the back of my book where I have started a collection of observations about my frenemy.

Note to self: Reaper likes butter. Must steal all the butter. 

I give Ashen a saccharine smile and write a new message for him to read:

If you didn't want to give anyone the WRONG IMPRESSION, breaking into my room and kidnapping me for three days is just about the dumbest idea you could have, Reaper. 

The Reaper gives the faintest trace of a smile and refocuses on adding more butter to his bread. "You seem very hung up on this comment I made. It's the second time you've referred to it. How interesting. Why?"

I write no response. I raise my coffee to my lips and blow across the surface just long enough for it to annoy him. He sighs, but there is a gleam in his skin, the radiance of mischief that he cannot hide.

"Not to worry, vampire. I mentioned to both Anna and Peter that you had an appointment out of town with a podiatrist for removal of persistent bunions. I am just being an honorable acquaintance and giving you a lift, since I was headed in that direction."

I roll my eyes and tap my pen on the notebook, watching as he keeps his gaze down on the bread as though he doesn't want me to see the amusement in his face. I decide to move along to more important questions:

How did you find Ediye? 

"I am a Reaper. It's my job to find immortals," he says, then takes a bite of his bread with a look of self-satisfaction. As an immortal in hiding, I'm feeling a giant fucking wave of unease. He seems to sense my distress and sits back in his chair, watching me as he chews. He takes his time, drawing out my irritation. "When I left the other day, I went to speak with a warlock connection of mine. I wanted to see if there were any witches with no firm associations to local covens. Ediye was mentioned as a powerful, lone witch who keeps her distance from the others. You are a powerful, solitary vampire with the ability to cast spells. I surmised there was a connection. Your face confirmed it when I said her name."

I crinkle my nose in a question.

The Reaper shrugs and then leans forward on his forearms, his shirt pulling taut across his shoulders. "You have a very expressive face."

I tilt my head. That almost sounded like a compliment. Apparently, that thought is in my face too, because his eyes darken.

"It is a disadvantage for a vampire. You should work on that."

Nope, definitely not a compliment.

Well YOU should work on not being such a dickhead. And leave Ediye the fuck alone. This is none of her business, I write, spinning the notebook and sliding it across the table toward him.

"She has committed no crime. If she helps us find the apothecary who created the poison, she has nothing to fear from me."

I roll my eyes and give him a derisive snort.

"Besides, her home is on the way."

To where, my podiatrist? I write.

"To my corridor."

Your 'corridor'. That sounds lame. What if I don't want to go to your 'corridor'? It sounds cramped and uncomfortable.

"You have no choice, vampire. We are bound and that is one place I cannot go without you. We need more information about Semyon’s history. We need to understand what the connection is between you and the other vampires they have taken. There must be something I'm missing, and I need to find it if I'm going to stop them from making another hybrid."

There are questions I want to ask. Questions about what Ashen already knows, about the hybrid that the Reapers have supposedly found. But I'm also afraid to ask. I'm afraid to draw more attention to myself, for him to pry more into my life. I don't want to give him an opening. I was thorough when I covered my tracks three hundred years ago. If I stay quiet, I will keep hidden, even if it's in plain sight.

Maybe, if I go to this corridor with him, I can connect the dots and figure out what he's missing before he does, and then I can reap this Alpha myself and slip back into oblivion unscathed. It's not like I have much of a choice anyway.

I'm mulling over these thoughts as I take a sip of my coffee, which is bitter and bland compared to my bloffee from this morning.

The Reaper finishes the last bite of his bread and dusts the crumbs from the tablecloth with his fingers. "If you're worried about getting back in time for your date with Detective Cartwright, there is no reason for concern. We will be back by then."

The coffee catches in my throat and sputters from my mouth and out my nose.