Reaper Unexpected: Deadside Reapers book 1 Page 4

  “What?”

  “Get the fuck out of my house, you unfeeling wanker.”

  “Fee?”

  He looked genuinely confused, as if I was overreacting, but fuck that he was after my home. My reaction was perfectly valid. How dare he come back into my life after all this time and try and take my house? How dare he intimate that I had no life?

  How dare he breathe the same air as me. “Out!”

  He backed up as I advanced. “You want this house, then you better fucking lawyer up because you’re going to have a fight on your hands.”

  I shoved him out the front door and slammed it in his face before leaning back against it, heart hammering in my chest.

  I’d fight for this place. I’d fight tooth and nail, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew the law, and he’d win.

  He’d win, and I’d lose the only home I’d ever known. “What the fuck am I gonna do, Cyril?”

  But my python had curled up into a ball and tucked his head away, fast asleep.

  * * *

  The pastries sat in their box on the coffee table uneaten. My appetite was gone, which was saying something because I bloody loved pastries. The clock ticked tauntingly at me, 6:30 a.m. The sun would be up in an hour. I should sleep, but Lucas’s words echoed in my brain.

  How could he do this to me? He said he saw me as a sister, so how could he take my home? How could he sell Aunt Lara’s legacy? They say blood is thicker than water, but not for Lara.

  My mother dumped me in an orphanage at the age of two and a half. Foster homes were my destiny until Lara took me in and gave me a forever home. I was luckier than most. I found a mother and escaped being emotionally scarred. I figure my bio mum probably did me a favor, and no, I never tried to find her. I didn’t care. I had Aunt Lara.

  I could have moved out years ago, but no, I became a twenty-five-year-old still living at home, and then she was gone. Aunt Lara was a unique case, a spirit so pure, so good that they shifted her to Deadside immediately. They took her from me. Had it been a year already? She might not even be at Deadside any longer, she may have moved on, but I needed to know she was okay, and I’d get that information beyond those wrought iron gates.

  “Fee? What happened?” Cora crouched in front of me. “Are you okay?”

  I smiled. “Look at you, sneaking in like a ghost.”

  “Fee?” She looked worried.

  I shrugged, not sure I wanted to talk about it just yet. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  She lifted the lid on the pastry box. “An untouched fruit and cream cheese breakfast tart, that’s what.”

  “Lucas came by.”

  Okay, I guess I did want to talk about it.

  Cora sucked in a sharp breath. “Love-of-your-life Lucas? The-one-that-got-away Lucas?”

  I nodded. “The-one-that-wants-to-sell-this-house Lucas.”

  “What?” She gaped at me.

  I grabbed a tartlet. Now that Cora was here, my appetite seemed to be returning. I took a bite and groaned as flavor tangoed in my mouth.

  “What are we going to do?” Cora looked bewildered. “This is our home.”

  “I don’t know, Cora. I really have no fucking clue.”

  “Fuck it,” Cora said. “Go to bed and sleep. I’ll wake you this evening, and then we’re going out. We’re gonna eat a shitload of food and get wrecked at the bar.”

  “You can’t get wrecked. You’re dead.”

  She grinned. “Fine, I’ll watch you get wrecked and make sure you get home okay, how’s that?”

  “Urgh, Cora, not in the mood. I’m too old for the clubbing scene, and it won’t stop Lucas following through on his threat. We’re just delaying the inevitable shit storm.”

  “Twenty-five is not too old for anything, and Lucas can eat shit out of the shit storm. We are going out and we’re hitting pause on all the crappy stuff.”

  I groaned, already exhausted thinking of the effort required for a night out, not to mention the shoes. My feet ached at the thought.

  She needed to see reason. “Cora, babe, remember the last time? I was home by ten-thirty, in my PJs, eating a kebab and watching TV.” I looked up pleadingly at her. “I was happy.” I fake sobbed as if longing for that moment again.

  “That was a year ago, and it wasn’t your fault. People need to learn to look but not touch.”

  She had to go and remind me of the reason I’d come home early. “No, I need to keep the anger in check.”

  “And you have. You do. There is nothing wrong with standing up for the underdog. Nothing wrong with a little righteous indignation.”

  If only it were that simple. “Cora … I don’t know.”

  “I do. Tomorrow night we partay at Eclipse.”

  “Eclipse?” I frowned. “Never heard of it.”

  “That’s because it only opened two months ago, and we haven’t been out in forever. Trust me, I have heard excellent things from the local specters. It’s only open two nights a week, Fridays and Saturdays.” She raised her eyebrows. “Margaritas…”

  I pouted at her. “That was low. You know I can’t resist the M-word.”

  She winked. “Oh, I’m willing to get down and dirty, woman. Now, go get your beauty sleep.” She squinted down at me. “You need it.”

  It was only when I was crawling into bed that it hit me. I’d completely forgotten to tell her about the monster and the reapers.

  How weird was that?

  Chapter Five

  “Partay!” Cora said for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “I swear, Cora, if you say partay one more time, I’ll exorcise you.”

  “Which will land me at Soul Savers, at work on my day off. Not cool, Fee, not cool.” She wagged her finger at me.

  I took my favorite bootcut jeans off the hanger and stroked them lovingly. They were made of the softest, uber stretchy denim, and I hadn’t been able to fit into them for months. They made my thighs look slim, and my ass look like a peach. A large mutant peach, but still … It was time for the test. Had taking the stairs been worth it? Had the hours at the gym paid off, or had I counteracted the exercise with the pastries and donuts my taste buds loved so much.

  Taking a deep breath, I began the shimmy into the magic item. Please fit, please fit. Yes. They were on. Now for the test. I closed my eyes, said a soft prayer to the jean gods, and zipped up. Bam. Check me out.

  “I love those on you,” Cora said. “You need to wear them with this.” She handed me a silver cami, tag still on. I’d bought it on impulse on a day when I’d been feeling fabulously confident, but it had never made it off the hanger.

  I eyed up the sexy garment wistfully. “Too strappy, and it makes my tits look obscene.”

  Cora grinned. “And you just made my point. Put it on. I’m gonna do your makeup, and you’re gonna look hawt.”

  “No one says that anymore.”

  “I do.”

  I didn’t make up my face too often. My complexion was on the pale side and makeup, even the slightest amount, stood out starkly, but Cora was magic with her brushes and the nude colors. She added just enough to accentuate but not look gaudy.

  I studied my reflection. “I actually do look hawt.”

  Cora sniffed. “No one uses that word.”

  I hugged her waist. “I love you, and I want you to look hawt tonight too, so take some.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “Draw from me.”

  “But, it’s forbidden,” she said in a hushed, dramatic tone.

  I rolled my eyes. “Not if I give you permission.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Okay, if you insist. Just a little.”

  She touched my shoulder lightly, and my skin tingled, a breathless feeling came over me briefly, and then she was done, standing in front of me in full solid form.

  My head spun a little with the aftereffects of the siphon, and Cora handed me a bar of chocolate.

  I looked down at my waist. “Are you insane?” But tore off the
wrapper and ate it anyway.

  Cora closed her eyes and flipped her outfit. Not all ghosts could change the way they looked, but a level four like Cora could manipulate her spectral image. A midi skirt and a strappy top paired with cute heels appeared on her body. Her blonde hair framed her sweetheart face, and dark blue shadow made her cornflower-blue eyes pop. She kicked out a leg and did a little Betty Boop bop.

  I grinned at her. “You know what, Lucas aside, I have a great feeling about tonight.”

  “Me too,” Cora said. “Me too.”

  * * *

  Eclipse was heaving with bodies. But by the time we got to the club, my body was souped-up on margaritas and Thai food, and the crush of people didn’t matter. We elbowed our way to the bar, and Cora ordered more drinks.

  “This is my last one.” I had to raise my voice to be heard over the music.

  Cora smiled and held up her drink. “You mean this is your last one.”

  “Right.”

  She could hold a drink, but she couldn’t drink it, which meant I ended up downing her share. It was gone midnight, which wasn’t late for a night out, and wasn’t late when transferred into work hours, but was late to my off-duty brain. It was tucked-up-in-bed-with-a-book late or curled-up-on-the-sofa-watching-my-favorite-show late.

  My brain rebelled at being out at this time, but no, I wasn’t going to give in and head home just yet. I was determined to have fun.

  I sipped my drink and allowed Cora to lead me to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. The best spot to people-watch. There were plenty of specters in the house too, bopping on the dance floor.

  I leaned into Cora. “Can you tell which solid ones are ghosts?”

  “Sure.” She pointed. “That woman grinding up on that guy over there is very much dead.”

  I found the couple she was referring to, a petite redhead and a blond dude.

  “They look cute together.” Cora sighed wistfully.

  “Except he’s alive, and she’s not.”

  “Don’t judge,” Cora said. “Love has no bounds.”

  “Trust me, it does.” I sipped my drink. “When the living partner decides he or she wants kids or something.”

  “There’s always adoption.”

  I turned to her. “Would you?”

  “What?”

  “Date the living?”

  Her smile was sad. “I just miss being in love, Fee.”

  I hugged her around the waist. “I love you.”

  “I know, but you don’t have a penis.”

  “Yes, I do! It’s in the bottom drawer of my dresser.” I winked at her.

  She shoved me away. “Urgh. Errol doesn’t count. He’s used. Heavily, if I might add.” She giggled. “Come on. Let’s go bust some moves on the dance floor and show those teenyboppers how it’s supposed to be done.”

  “Hey, I’m only twenty-five.”

  “And I’m only dead.”

  I downed my drink and followed my bestie through the throng toward the dance floor.

  “Ooh, Fee, don’t look now, but there’s a mega-hot guy eye fucking you from across the club.”

  I followed her gaze and spotted the man. He stood at the edge of the crowd, blond, shoulder-length, tousled hair gleaming in the strobe lights. The lines of his masculine jaw were hugged by a neat beard. Recognition lanced through me even though I didn’t know him. Déjà vu, maybe? I should look away and quit staring, but my attention was locked on him. I didn’t usually go for beards, but this guy carried it off perfectly. The spot beneath my diaphragm heated, a strange tugging sensation bloomed there, and I was walking toward him.

  Whoa.

  I got my legs under control. Even though it was impossible to see his eyes clearly in the strobe lights, there was no doubt in my mind that his attention was on me. He was wearing a black shirt, open at the neck to reveal the smooth tanned skin beneath. Sun-kissed Adonis, that’s what he was.

  “Back off, I said no.” The shrill, slightly panicked voice caught my attention.

  “Douche alert,” Cora said.

  Adonis forgotten, I focused on the woman who was obviously being harassed by a couple of guys. She was alone at one of the tall circular tables that dotted the club. Probably waiting on her friend to grab drinks from the bar while she held on to the chill spot.

  The guys were crowding her, all smiles. But she wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked like she was about to cry.

  “Fee …” Cora warned. “Don’t do it.”

  Too late.

  Chapter Six

  There was a damsel in distress, and hero mode was activated. My heel stuck on a tacky spot on the floor. I tugged it free and strode over to the table.

  “Hi!” I smiled brightly at the woman. “Mind if we join you?”

  She looked from me to Cora, and her mouth turned up in a grateful smile. “Please.”

  “Well, hello …” one of the douches said.

  I ignored him. “Friends of yours?” I jerked a thumb toward the guys.

  “No. They won’t leave me alone.” Her gaze darted to them then back to me.

  “Really? Did you ask nicely?”

  “Yes. I told them I’m not interested.” This time she stabbed them with a glare. Good girl.

  They were hulkish specimens with shirts that stretched too tight across the muscles underneath. Probably a size too small.

  “But we’re interested,” douche two said. “We’re very interested.”

  My level one anger notched up to level two, and wariness had my spidey-senses quivering. I’d been in this situation before, and usually the douche dudes backed off when the lone female had support. They realized they weren’t going to get anywhere and moved on to someone else. But these guys weren’t moving. Instead, they placed their drinks on the table, signaling they were here to stay.

  These guys were bad news, and I wasn’t dumb enough to get into a verbal fight with two drunk hulks. Especially when I wasn’t sure they wouldn’t retaliate physically.

  “It’s fine.” I smiled at the woman. “We were headed to the bar, anyway, weren’t we? You guys can have the table.”

  The woman nodded and moved closer to me as I stepped away from the table. A hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

  “What’s the rush?” douche one said.

  The anger inside shot up to level three. “Let go of my arm.”

  “Yeah, you should listen to her,” Cora said. “No touchy-touchy without permission.”

  “Shut it, spook,” douche one growled.

  Breathe, Fee. Breathe. But the red was taking over, and then my body was reacting, and the next thing I knew, the hulk guy’s cheek was squished to the table. I had his arm pinned high up on his back and one hand on the nape of his neck.

  The woman let out a frightened yelp.

  “Fee, watch out!” Cora rushed around the table just as hands gripped my shoulders.

  Part of my brain was screaming shit, shit, shit, but the other was a red haze wanting to do some hurting.

  Douche number one’s pal tugged hard on me, but my rage was stronger. I resisted and yanked on douche one’s arm, eliciting a satisfying, guttural curse. And then, the grip on my shoulders was gone.

  “Let him go.” It was a command, and it rankled. I looked up at the guy with the audacity to tell me what the fuck to do, and the rage bled out of me. It was the Adonis dude, and although his tone was commanding, his expression, his stance, wasn’t confrontational.

  “Please,” he added.

  “Fee, people are staring.” Cora sounded mortified.

  Oh, fuck. I’d promised to behave. To keep myself in check. I blew out a breath and released the douche.

  He staggered away from me, teeth bared. “What the fuck, Grayson?”

  Adonis? Grayson. It was a good name.

  “Apologize,” Grayson said.

  For a second, I thought he was speaking to me, and I was about to tell him where to shove it, but he had his attention focused on the douche.

&nb
sp; “What the fuck, Grayson?” douche said again.

  “Maybe he can’t say anything else?” Cora stage-whispered.

  Blond Adonis, with the gorgeous hair, took a step forward, and douche took one back.

  “I’m sorry,” douche said. “We were just being friendly.”

  “Then go be friendly elsewhere,” Grayson said calmly.

  The douches pushed through the curious crowd and out of sight, and just like that, everyone went back to doing what they’d been doing before I’d interrupted their regular viewing with violence.

  “That was awesome,” the woman we’d rescued said. “But I … I need to find my friends.” She smiled, but it was a scared smile.

  I’d scared her.

  Fuck.

  I hated this part of me. This anger.

  “Are you all right?” Grayson asked.

  Shit, I’d forgotten he was there. And when had he gotten so close. Close enough for me to smell his cologne, autumn days and sunshine. It suited him, and it called to me. Pulling me even closer to him like the polar side of a magnet.

  “I’m sorry about that.” His voice was deep and rumbly.

  “No worries.” My chest fluttered, and my voice sounded way too Marilyn Monroe.

  I lifted my chin to look up at his face, a polite smile at the ready. My gaze snagged on his firm mouth and then roved up to meet his eyes—pale blue ringed in indigo. Husky eyes. He had husky eyes.

  My smile slipped, and my hand came up to touch him. Oh, God. I was touching a stranger’s chest without permission. I flexed my fingers on his shirt, feeling his pectoral jump beneath my hand.

  What the fuck?

  He sucked in a breath, his eyes narrowing intensely, searchingly, as if he was trying to work a puzzle.

  “Grayson?” a tentative female voice said. “Who is this, and why is she touching you?”

  The world snapped back into focus. Oh, God, this had to be his girlfriend. What the hell was I doing?

  I put distance between myself and the Adonis, shooting the annoyed woman a sheepish look.

  “Whoa, sorry. Too many margaritas. No excuse. But … my excuse.”