Undead Or Alive (Bad Things #3)(5)

“That’s weird,” she said. “That is a seriously weird thing to say.”

He blinked at her. For a moment, he looked a bit confused, but then his face just went back to that dangerous mask.

She smiled at him. “That is not my bracelet, so I don’t think you should be feeling me anywhere near it.”

“It’s yours.”

It was, yes. But Amber didn’t plan to admit that fact anytime soon. “We have a lost and found here in the bar,” she continued brightly. “Want me to put it in there? Maybe the owner will show up soon and claim it.” Her hand reached out to swipe the bracelet from him. She was fast—so fast that she knew she’d be able to swipe the gold away before he could so much as—

His hand closed around hers, trapping her.

He’s faster. Oh, crap. He is faster than I am.

“It’s yours.” Again, that deep voice of his rolled through her. His hold tightened on her hand. “I can feel you.”

“Yes, well, that’s because you’re crushing my hand.” He wasn’t. He wasn’t hurting her at all. “And I can feel you plenty, too.”

He lifted their hands, staring at them with a look of what could have been wonder on his face. She was having a pretty hard time gauging the guy’s expressions.

“You’re warm and soft,” he muttered. “It’s almost as if…the glove isn’t even there.”

Had a psychotic paranormal just walked into her bar? Talk about bad luck.

“The glove is there.” She glanced pointedly at their hands. “Now let me go.”

He didn’t. “What are you?” He’d leaned toward her and dropped his voice.

I’m a monster wearing human skin. Only if she said those words to him, Amber knew this fellow wouldn’t laugh. “What are you?” she threw back at him.

“My enemies call me the Reaper.”

Oh, for the love of…The Reaper! He was the Reaper? She could barely breathe and her goosebumps were back, but about a million times worse than they’d been before. She was touching the Reaper. Amber knew she had to get away from him. Far, far away, as fast as she possibly could.

Behind him, she saw a witch start to approach the bar. Before the woman got within three feet of the Reaper, though, she stiffened. Fear drifted over her face—a fear that Amber knew the woman would never be able to explain—and the witch turned and immediately walked back to her friends.

Even humans could sense when death was close.

“It’s your bracelet.” He still held her hand but he’d started to…stroke her wrist. Her pulse was racing beneath his gloved touch. She wanted to jerk her hand free, but Amber suspected he was stronger than she was. If she tried to jerk away, he’d just hold her tight. And then they’d both know he held all the power.

She had to take that power away.

She had to get away.

“I’ve been sent to find you,” he added.

Yes, she’d figured as much. So she stopped pretending. “If you’re the Reaper that I’ve heard about…” Heard about, been warned about, been told to stay far, far away from if she wanted to remain in the land of the living. “If you’re that guy, then you’re nothing more than a bounty hunter.”

His lips curved the faintest bit. “A very highly paid bounty hunter.”

“Dead or alive?” Her voice had gone husky.

His blue eyes seemed to heat.

“Isn’t that the way it works for you? You bring in your victims dead…or alive?”

He shrugged one powerful shoulder. “Sometimes undead or alive.”

Sweet hell. Her night was not looking good.

“You’re not going to fight me,” he continued. Did he even realize he was stroking her wrist? “You’re not going to attract attention. You’re going to just walk into the night with me, and you won’t look back.”

Oh, that was cute. He was delusional. She’d been right when she pegged him as a psychotic paranormal. “Luke sent you.” Just when she’d thought he’d forgotten all about her.

The Reaper inclined his head. “The honor of your presence has been requested by the Lord of the Dark.”

She smiled at him, and, much as she’d done with the human who’d been in that exact same spot just a few moments before, Amber leaned forward as if she were about to share a big secret with him. “Tell the Lord of the Dark…to go screw himself.”

The Reaper blinked.

And Amber brought up the weapon she’d just palmed into her left hand. She yanked up the make-shift taser and shoved it against him as hard as she could. The volts of electricity pumped into him and he gave a jerk. He let her go because he had no choice—the Reaper was falling back and slamming into the floor.

She’d tinkered with that taser a bit. Amber had always been good at tinkering with things. So she’d given the device a paranormal upgrade. The taser wouldn’t kill him. Actually, she wasn’t sure anything could kill the Reaper, but it would give her a few precious moments to escape.

The costumed humans—at least those within a ten-foot radius—had turned to stare at the fallen man in shock. Amber didn’t waste time staring. She leapt over the bar in one very agile jump. She landed on her feet and prepared to race for freedom.