Reaper Mine: A Reaper Novel by Christie Palmer

herself from the bed she tested her weight on her leg. “It feels much better today.”
    “Let me look.” Victor sat on her bed and held out his hand. She placed her foot in his hand, and Victor looked at the wound. It was almost healed. The skin was puckered and pink but almost totally healed. “Good, almost totally healed. How are you feeling otherwise?”
    Her brow furrowed again in thought and his hand itched to rub the furrows away. “I feel better than I have in a long time. It’s weird, typically when I’m in a new place I feel horrible.” She shrugged, and he wondered if she recognized she did it and her aura shimmered an almost golden hue trying to break free. She should have shown with it, bright like the sun, being a demi-god she should have shimmered with it. However, it was muted.
    When he watched her closely he could have missed it, but watching close enough he saw just a shimmer of her aura. A goldenness so beautiful and lovely it made him want to reach out and touch her, his hands itched to touch her.
    “Why is it when I look at you I feel like I’ve made a deal with the devil?” She exhaled her voice catching.
    Victor recognized he needed to put some distance between them even if it was metaphorical. He moved so fast he knew she wouldn’t be able to track the movements and he was leaning over her boxing her in a hand on either side of her head he leaned down so they were face to face. She may not like his devastating smile, but she wouldn’t be able to resist him when he turned on the charm. He inhaled her scent. She smelled of the motel’s cheap soap, but there—something beneath, something only an Other would be able to detect he identified to be uniquely her. Victor drew it into the center of his being, memorizing it for later.
    “Not the devil, Elle,” he exhaled as she sucked in a shocked breath. “But close.”
    Elle’s eyes crossed as she tried to focus on him and a crease formed between her brows. Then she made a harrumphing noise and stuffed half a burger in her mouth.
    Victor pulled back glaring at her, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but a sudden need to eat hadn’t been at the top of his list of reactions. He was about to say something more make another move when a knock at the door startled them both.
    “Housekeeping,” a heavily accented voice called out.
    Victor turned and glared at the door for several long moments.
    Elle had a bad feeling. “What?” she whispered, pushing herself to the edge of the bed her food forgotten.
    “I don’t spend a lot of time on the mortal plane, but since when did housekeeping come to a room at eleven o’clock at night?” he asked in a stage whisper.
    Elle looked around for an escape. They were basically trapped. “What are we going to do?” she whispered.
    He turned to her and smiled showing her a row of straight white teeth. Victor pulled a weapon from his back and flipped it open with his wrist. An eight inch long scythe extended gleaming in the low light. “We fight.”
    He moved to stand next to the door. “Not really a good idea.” she said as quietly as possible as she rolled to the opposite side of the bed she eased herself onto the floor the only thing she could do was hide and it made her want to scream. She sometimes hated who she was.
    “What are you doing?” he asked giving her a look like he had never seen her before.
    “I can’t fight. So I’m hiding.” She looked between the bed and the wall where she had wedged herself.
    She would have laughed at the look he gave her but she didn’t think it was funny. “What?”
    “Empath,” she said pointing to herself. “Not a great fighter, more of a…” She let it trail off. Then: “I feel the pain I inflict.” She had been known to fight when her emotions were out of control. Take for instance the Freak from the night before. Although she rarely ever fought because the backlash was just too much, the end result was always what had happened the last