The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) by Marie Hall

her it would seem as if two years had passed, but for him to see her hale and whole after the horror of seeing her body twisted and broken, took his breath. The glimpse of her through the shop window did not compare to this moment.
    He was transfixed. She radiated an alluring mixture of power and sensuality. He sensed in her a great sadness and touched his heart, feeling a sudden burning ache to hold her. Comfort her. He clenched his jaw, knowing what he felt was the effects of her magick flaring to life inside him.
    She and her sisters walked down the sidewalk. The blonde and redhead wore smiles. His witch did not.
    Her misery scorched him like a fiery brand. Rammed through his skull. Cian remembered the sparkle in her golden eyes first time he’d laid eyes on her.
    She shouldn’t feel this way. All my fault.
    He followed at a discreet distance. Silent as a thought. The sisters moved with purpose, threading a winding path through alleyways, around condemned buildings, and stinking dumpsters. The path was a familiar one to him.
     He watched as different sets of eyes studied the women. The furtive glances and faint odor of male lust riding the winds told him of their intent.
    But the women weren’t weak and the men knew it. They crackled with power, like a burst of electricity from a live wire. Their ramrod shoulders and straight backs gave off a clear message: Screw with me at your own peril .
    One by one the sets of eyes left off, scouting easier prey.
    Cian’s lips quirked.
    The ladies stopped at the entrance of the club and knocked.
    A peephole slid open and a large brown eye peered out.
    “Password,” the gruff voice asked.
    “Asylum.”
    The large, wrought iron door opened on silent hinges. Pale wisps of blue smoke escaped the club to curl around their ankles, creating an illusion of ethereal beings floating slowly inside.
    A tingle ran like quicksilver down his spine. And he knew without turning that another reaper was around. The hunt was on. It was small comfort to know that while the sisters were inside the X, no harm could come to them.
    But how am I supposed to keep them safe the rest of the time? Especially when The Morrigan is determined to have her?
    After a few seconds passed, he knocked on the door, spoke the password and continued his pursuit. The pulsating rhythms of Danzig vibrated through his body. The loud music keyed him up. Pumped him full of adrenaline. Made him want.
    Quickly he followed their scent up the stairwell, only slowing down when they were a few feet ahead. He stared at her backside. At the gentle sway of her hips and the wealth of black hair trailing down her back.
    Want what you can never have .
    He clenched his hands into fists, climbing step after stone step.
    Cian had expected the sisters to return to the coven floor--where all practicing witches, wizards, and warlocks who preferred to keep to themselves, partied. Instead they headed for the fourth floor door. The mixed flock.
    On this level only, the pack, clan, and coven put aside their differences and prejudice’s to party together.
    Many centuries past the fae would have been included as part of the revelry. Now, no fae were allowed save the reapers. Death was an essential part of life and it could happen anywhere, at any time. Supernatural laws and rules did not apply to the reapers.  
    “Ah! My favorite sisters three.”
    The sisters turned at the sound of the melodious voice.
    Cian glanced at the source.
    “Lise,” his witch cried and rushed into the proprietor’s frail embrace.
    Madam Lise’s snow-white eyes roamed the witch’s face with unerring accuracy. She laid a liver spotted hand against her heart. “Such sadness.”
    Cian shifted. Electric currents of Lise’s power pulsed through him. The woman was immortality personified. In her voice he heard not just words, but an ancient knowledge of the beginning and the end.
    The mystery that was Lise teased his mind. She was more than the Gods and Goddesses. She