My Reaper's Daughter (44 page)

gracefully against him while her head was thrown back and her lush breasts gently rose

and fell with the rhythm. Her eyes were closed but his were open for he was staring

with awe at the beautiful woman who was taking him so thoroughly.

The Reaper’s hands curled into fists around the headboard post, his chains clanking

against the metal with each lunge forward of her hips. He lifted his own from the

mattress so he could penetrate her more deeply, and at her groan of pleasure, he had to

clamp his jaw tightly closed to keep from coming too soon. His balls were tight, his cock

throbbing and burning with the need for release. His thighs quivered as he kept his

lower body elevated from the bed.

Her hands went to his pecs and her fingers grasped both of his hard-as-pebble

nipples and lightly pinched, sending tremors of erotic thunder down his chest. She

twisted those dark rose paps and her husband writhed deliciously beneath her.

“Aye, wench,” he growled. “Aye!”

She twisted a bit harder, putting the weight of her upper body on the wall of his

chest as her lower body ground upon his cock. The swirling, bucking motion was

driving him insane and the rush of his climax was bearing down on him with the speed

of a runaway train.

“Come for me, baby,” he hissed at her. “Come for your man!”

Mystery made a low, grunting sound deep in her throat and she slammed her cunt

down on him with enough force to bring a groan from him. His cock was as far up

inside her as it could get and at that moment her release came in a burst of liquid heat

that had her riding him as though he were a recalcitrant mustang.

Glyn stared up at the underside of her firm jaw, and at the precise moment the tight

little pulses signaled to him she was coming, he released his tight hold on his body. A

hot jet of cum shot out of him so thick and hard he nearly passed out from the power of

it. He literally saw stars behind his eyes as he strained to push inside her even deeper.

The rhythmic undulations quivering around him drove him over the edge and he

opened his mouth and howled, his entire body shaking as though with the ague.

Lowering her head as the last of the spasms died away inside her, Mystery looked

into the sweaty face of her mate and felt a piercing pain go through her heart. She

whimpered and fell atop him, her arms folded against her body as she lay atop his.

“I love you, Glyn,” she said, her voice breaking. “I love you so much.”

He ached to put his arms around her. He wanted so badly to hold her. Frustrated

almost beyond reason that his hands were shackled above him where he could not

touch her, stroke her, wrap her in his embrace, he ground his teeth in useless rage. He

squeezed his eyes shut as tears stung.

“I would die for you,” he told her. “As the gods are my witness, I would die for you

or Valda.”

She knew that was no exaggeration. This stalwart warrior would do just that

without a second’s thought. In that moment she knew her love for him could go no

deeper. Her respect for him could be no greater.

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“We’ll get through this,” he said.

“It isn’t fair,” she said, her voice breaking.

When she began to cry, he felt as though his heart were being ripped from his chest.

“
Ben my chree,
please don’t cry. You are killing me here,” he pleaded with her.

Long into the night they lay wide awake. Her tears had dried upon her cheeks but

she had not moved from where she’d collapsed atop him.

She would protect him for as long she could.

* * * * *

Prime Reaper Arawn Gehdrin lifted his head and tipped the black hat from its

position low on his forehead to a point where he could see clearly the arriving carriage

and horsemen destined for the train depot. He was leaning against the depot wall in a

straight-backed chair with the heels of his boots hooked on the crosspiece of the raised

front legs. 2-I-C Bevyn Coure was likewise relaxing in the heat of the early morning but

he was sitting on the platform with his legs dangling over the side, whittling on a stick.

Both men had been cooling their heels in Charlotte for two days awaiting the arrival of

their teammates and the two females those men had in tow.

“I’m not looking forward to this,” Bevyn commented as he tossed the stick away

and closed his pocketknife, dropping it into the breast pocket of his shirt. “It sucks.”

“You got that right,” Arawn replied as he set the front legs of his chair down on the

wooden flooring. He stood and walked over to stand beside his second-in-command as

a soft, gentle rain fell on the train engine that was puffing steam already. He braced a

tanned hand on the platform upright and leaned his weight against it, his other hand

dug into the pockets of his leather uniform pants.

Knowing from mental transmissions from Phelan Kiel the identity of the man of

color driving the carriage, the Prime Reaper greeted him by name as did Bevyn as the

carriage came to a stop beside the platform.

“Milords,” LaVon returned the Reapers’ greetings respectfully.

“Any trouble on the trail, Phelan?” Arawn asked the man the Shadowlords had

designated as the primary operative on this mission.

“Nothing to speak of,” Phelan said as he slung a leg over his steed’s rump and

dismounted. “We had a bridge washout that gave us a three-hour delay.”

Arawn nodded. He’d figured as much when the Reapers hadn’t shown up on time.

He glanced toward the carriage. “How is our boy?”

“Calm and quiet,” Phelan reported. “He hasn’t given us a moment’s trouble.”

“Didn’t think he would,” Arawn stated. “And the little girl? How is she?”

Phelan smiled. “Couldn’t be better. You’d never know anything untoward had

happened to the sweet bratling. She’s taking the whole thing in stride.”

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The Prime Reaper breathed a sigh of relief. No one—not even the Shadowlords—

knew what to expect in a situation like this. None of them had experience with a child

Reaper that young. Only Arawn had actually spoken to a fledgling Reaper—a boy he

knew to be his own son—but that had been brief and no real interaction had taken

place.

Kasid had dismounted and came up to Phelan to take his horse’s reins. “I’ll put

Nathair and Ulchabhán onboard. LaVon, would you bring Stannair along?” he asked,

referring to his own, Phelan’s and Glyn’s mounts.

“Aye, milord,” LaVon agreed, and tied the carriage’s reins to the wagon brake and

got down.

“Are Corr and Préachán already onboard?” Kasid asked of Arawn’s and Bevyn’s

steeds as he began walking toward the cattle car.

“Aye. When you’ve got them all settled, we’ll be in the dining car,” Arawn

answered. “My belly is rumbling.”

Phelan went over to the carriage and opened the door, stuck his hand inside and

said, “Let me help you, milady.”

Arawn saw a tiny brown hand take Phelan’s and then a scrawny little arm hooked

around his neck as the Reaper swung her out of the carriage and up onto the platform,

barely giving the gentle rain a chance to touch her.

Valda smoothed down her dress, tilted her head back and gazed up at the tall,

handsome man whose gun was strapped to his left hip instead of his right.

“Well met, milord,” she greeted him, and thrust out her hand.

Arawn grinned before dropping down to one knee as he clasped that fragile hand

and brought it to his lips. “Well met indeed, Milady Valda,” he responded.

Valda took a deep breath and rattled off the blessing she had practiced tirelessly,

“
Go raibh an choir Ghaoithe I gcónai leat.”

Both Arawn and Bevyn were impressed and exchanged a look that caused moisture

to form in their eyes.

“
Go raibh an choir Ghaoithe I gcónai leat, Lady Valda,”
Arawn replied, granting her the

traditional sanction the Reaper force gave one another.

“What does that mean?” LaVon whispered to Kasid.

“May the Wind be always at your back,” Kasid answered.

Valda struck a thumb to her pint-sized breast. “I’m a Reaper too, you know.”

“Indeed we do,” Arawn acknowledged. “And if there is anything your fellow

Reapers can do for you, all you need do is ask.”

Valda put the pad of her index finger on her lip and thought about that. After a

brief moment, she nodded emphatically. “Two things, milord.” The thumb on her right

hand popped up. “I would like you to inter…inter…” She turned her head. “What’s the

word, Mama?”

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My Reaper’s Daughter

“Intercede,” came a soft voice from inside the carriage.

“Aye,” Valda said with another firm nod of her little head. “I would like you to

intercede on behalf of my daddy.” She lowered her voice, looked about her as though

expecting someone to be eavesdropping. “So them mean old men won’t treat him so

bad.”

Arawn nodded gravely. “Consider it done, milady. What else?”

Valda grinned. “And I want a puppy!”

“Valda!” This time the voice from the carriage was followed by a beautiful woman

of color who stood framed in the doorway. “You know what your father said.”

The little girl’s lip thrust out in a pout and she folded her arms over her thin chest.

“But I want a pet, Mama.”

“Not at the Citadel,” her mother stated. She took Phelan’s hand as she descended

the carriage steps then hurried up the cement ones to the platform alongside him. She

put a hand out to Arawn. “I am Mystery Kullen, milord.”

“Arawn Gehdrin, milady,” the Prime Reaper replied, sweeping his hat from his

head. He took her hand and brought it to his lips before releasing it and turning to the

man beside him. “My second-in-command Bevyn Coure.”

Mystery took Bevyn’s hand and smiled softly as he too kissed the back of hers.

“A pleasure, milady,” Bevyn welcomed her.

A prim little man appeared behind Lord Arawn and coughed discreetly, signaling

his arrival.

“And this is Harold Warrington,” Arawn introduced the thin, short man. “Harry

volunteered to take care of you and Lady Valda on the trip to the Citadel.”

“Are you a butler?” Valda asked.

Harold regarded the child solemnly. “I am the assigned valet to Lord Cynyr Cree

and the Lady Aingeal,” he said, clicking his heels together. His pencil-thin mustache

quivered. “It is not a particularly pleasing job but it does suffice.”

Valda gave him a long, hard look. It wasn’t often she met an adult who wasn’t that

much taller than she. Despite his stiffly held posture and unsmiling face, the child took

an instant liking to him and went over to loop her arm through his.

“Will you do me the honor of escorting me to yon train, Valet Warrington?” she

asked in a very proper tone.

Harold blinked. His lips tightened then flexed into what might pass for a smile. “It

would be my great honor, Lady Valda,” he responded, and led the child toward the

train.

“I’ve never ridden on a train before,” she informed him. “I bet it’s lots of fun.”

“Oh it is!” Harold agreed with the most enthusiasm anyone had ever seen him

express. “I do so love the infrequent trips I get to make. Once when we were on our

way to Pameny…”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I think she’s made a conquest of that old stick in the mud,” Bevyn quipped.

“She never meets a stranger and she’ll have Harry doting on her every word.”

Arawn looked around as Glyn came down the carriage steps. He winced when he

saw the shackles, though he’d known the Shadowlords had ordered the indignity for

his teammate. He put his hat back on as a muscle worked in his lean jaw.

“I am deeply sorry about this, Glyn,” the Prime Reaper said for the record.

“So am I,” Glyn said.

Bevyn stepped forward to take Glyn’s arm as his friend made his way up the

slippery cement steps to the platform. “We are planning on speaking up for you,

Glynnie.”

“I appreciate that but I’m ready to stand whatever punishment they intend to give

me,” Glyn told them.

“Má throideann túm gi dtriude tú i leith do bhráthar,”
Bevyn
reminded him of the

Reaper creed of “If you fight may you fight for a brother”. “You are our brother.”

Arawn turned to Mystery. “Milady, we need to speak privately with Glyn. Would

you mind if Phelan took you on to the dining car?”

Mystery gave Glyn a questioning look but at his nod, she agreed and preceded

Phelan to the steps of the chuffing, huffing train.

“So how bad is it?” Glyn asked once she was out of earshot.

“The High Council knows about your Joining,” Arawn warned Glyn. “And the

pregnancy.”

“The list of my transgressions is no doubt a mile long by now,” Glyn said on a long

sigh. “I told Phelan they would crucify me and I’ve no doubt they will.”

“I couldn’t get Lord Kheelan to tell me what their plans for you are so that in itself

is not a good sign,” Arawn continued. “Owen is worried they’ll throw the book at you

and dismiss you from the force.”

Glyn flinched. “Oh gods I hope not.”

“Phelan tells me the goddess was there when you transferred the hellion. Since She

didn’t try to stop you, it could be argued you had Her permission to do what you did,”

the Prime Reaper said. “I don’t think She’ll allow you to be drummed out of the corps.”