Reap & Reveal (The Reaper Series Book 3) by Lisa Medley Page B

now they would all burst in for a reaper intervention and take her from him…body and soul.
    With the lack of restful and restorative sleep, he was beginning to lose touch with reality. He wondered if he had the strength to do what was needed. One person might be able to help him. Give him the answers he required. The question was…would he?
    A knock at his door snapped him out of his maudlin reverie.
    “Nate? I’m coming in.” Deacon pulled open the door and walked in.
    Bo lifted his head with mild interest, and then resumed his passive protection at the foot of the bed.
    “You look like hell.”
    Nate didn’t bother responding. The bastard was right of course—about everything—but he wasn’t going to let him know it. Guy code and all of that bullshit.
    “What are we going to do here, Nate? You have to make a decision, or it’s going to be made for you. You’re dead on your feet. We won’t lose you both.”
    The choice was an impossible one.
    For him to continue, he’d have to let her go, but how was he supposed to do that? She was a part of him now. Deacon might as well ask him to amputate his leg.
    Kylen had already given him the bullshit speech about honor amongst reapers . Well, if that “honor” had been honored by Deacon, Kylen’s possessed ass would have been dead a long time ago and he wouldn’t be spending his off time wrapped around Olivia, rockin’ that damned trailer like a pontoon boat in a hurricane.
    The longer Deacon stared at him, the more agitated he became.
    Maeve’s soul brushed through him like a chill, sensing his agitation. If Deacon turned on his power and tried to draw her forth, steel would be the only weapon that could stop him. They both knew it.
    Nate didn’t want to fight the guy, but if it came to blows or worse, so be it. He would defend what was his.
    And Maeve…was his.
    Deacon took a step forward and his hands began to glow.
    A gasp from the bedroom broke his concentration and demanded their attention. Nate turned to see Maeve’s body convulsing on the bed.
    “Shit.” Nate raced to her side and attempted to restrain her as her body heaved from the bed. As soon as he made contact, her thirsty shell began to pull the weak charge of energy from him, taking what it needed and filling her with light.
    The IV ripped from her arm and a stream of blood trickled from the puncture wound.
    “I’ve got her. Take care of her arm.” Deacon pressed her writhing body into the mattress, holding her in place.
    The second Nate withdrew from her, she stopped fighting and they both watched the light fade from her once more. This time, she stopped breathing.
    Nate pressed two fingers against her throat, searching for a pulse. Nothing. Not even a spark flickered between them.
    “Start compressions,” Nate ordered, sliding his hand under her neck and tilting her head back for rescue breathing.
    Deacon complied and began rapid chest compressions as Nate breathed. The trailer rocked with their efforts, but Maeve’s body remained still and unanimated. After several long minutes, Deacon stopped and stepped back from the bed.
    “What are you doing? You can’t stop!”
    “It’s over, Nate. Her spark is gone.”
    “No, it’s not. Go get the AED! It’s worked before. Go!”
    “No, Nate.”
    Nate felt the energy swirl inside him like liquid fire. Maeve’s soul fluttered against his walls like a butterfly in a glass jar. Flames of rage kindled inside of him.
    This is not happening.
    He couldn’t breathe.
    Nate felt his aura ignite before it manifested. Like a match to kerosene, it engulfed him. He drew in a deep inhale, then bent to Maeve’s mouth once more to resume rescue breathing. Exhaling into her, he forced all the energy he had into her, willing it to fill her, restore her, save her.
    The burn of his tattoos was the first indication that something beyond him was happening. Something magical. His sigils pulsated and flared, as pictures flashed through his mind—more memories