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“Maybe I’m tired of running.”

“Then tell me what you want.”

She looks into the empty eyes of my mask.

“I want you to catch me.”

“Not good enough.”

Her breath trembles.

“Rhys—”

“Tell me what you want me to do after I catch you.”

A blush rises along her throat, but she refuses to look away.

“I want you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“You read my application.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Her lips part. Nothing comes out. I brace one hand against the door beside her head. This close, I can see the pulse fluttering in her neck.

“Is the woman who challenged the Reaper suddenly shy?”

“Maybe she enjoys making him work for it.”

My free hand closes around both her wrists. I lift them above her head and pin them against the wood. A soft gasp leaves her.

“Do you still want me to work for it?”

“No.”

“Then ask.”

“Touch me.”

“Where, Sloane?”

“Everywhere. Fuck.”

Hmmmm, There she is, my little rabbit is feeling needy. I unlock the door behind her. It swings inward. Sloane falls backward with a startled cry, but I catch her around the waist before she strikes the floor. Her arms lock around my neck. For one breathless moment, her mouth hovers beneath the lower edge of my mask.

“Still green?”

“Very green.”

I carry her inside.

DANTE

Rhys catches her seven minutes earlier than I predicted. Greedy fucking bastard. I crouch on the roof of the equipment shed and peer through a broken panel as he carries Sloane inside. She has one arm wrapped around his neck. The other hangs behind his shoulder, three ribbons glowing against her skin. Soon there will be two. Then one. Then none. The thought makes my cock hard, fuck.

Callum appears below me, silent as the thing people imagine standing at the end of their beds. His burlap mask turns toward the shed.