Free Cinder X (Death Collectors, #2) by Jessica Sorensen Page A

eyes flare, the tips of his fingers pressing into my skin. “And I’m a Reaper. Both of us symbolize death. Both of us collect souls. There’s a very thin line between what we are.”
     
    “Not really.” I wince from his violent touch. “And besides, I know Asher enough to know that he cares about me and wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.”
     
    When he speaks his voice is low and conveys rage, his breath hot on my cheeks. “Maybe you should get your facts straight before you go yammering your mouth off,” he says. I open my mouth to speak, but he covers my lips with his hands. “Tell me this, princess. Did Asher, by chance, ever mention who his father is?”
     
    I reluctantly shake my head. “No, but what does that matter?” I ask, my lips moving against the palm of his hand.
     
    He lowers his hand from my mouth. “It matters when his father’s part of the Anamotti.”
     
    “That’s impossible… It’d mean he’d have to have Reaper blood. And he can’t have Reaper blood because then it’d mean Asher would have Reaper blood in him, and I know that’s not true,” I say, my voice sounding a little off pitch. I can’t help having some doubt. I know hardly anything about Asher’s father, and from the few conversations we had about him, I got the impression that Asher’s father wasn’t that great. Still, it doesn’t mean he’s a Reaper.
     
    I push Cameron off me and kneel up on the bed. “Quit messing with my head. If Asher’s father was a Reaper then he would have told me. And you would have told me a long time ago.”
     
    “Why would I have told you sooner?” Cameron asks, pressing his hand to his chest where I shoved him as if my touch burned. “I barely tell you anything that’s true.”
     
    “Exactly.”
     
    “Believe what you want, princess. But before you go deciding things, get your facts straight.”
     
    “And how am I supposed to do that when my entire life is a fucking mind game at the moment.”
     
    “Maybe by going to the source and asking him.”
     
    “I would love to, if I could, but since I have no idea where Angels go to get punished by their leader, that’s not happening anytime soon.” I pause, assessing Cameron’s reaction closely. “You wouldn’t by chance know how to bring him back, would you?”
     
    He looks at me like I’m a moron. “Do you think if I did, I’d tell you…” He trails off, tipping his head back with his eyes to the ceiling as he smirks. “Wait a minute. We have company.”
     
    My forehead creases. “What—”
     
    Before I can finish, Cameron poofs into thin air with only a wisp of smoke that takes the form of a shadow left behind.
     
    “Oh, Emmy,” Raven singsongs, and my entire body stiffens. “Can you come downstairs? I need to talk to you.”
     
    Weeks of silence and suddenly she’s barging into my home like we’re still friends? My initial reaction is to run and hide, like I’m a little kid, but I’m not a little kid and I know if I stay up here, then she’s just going to come up. So I reach for the knife I leave on my nightstand—the one I stabbed the guy with—then walk out of the room.
     
    When I reach the top of the stairway, I spot her standing in the foyer, twisting a strand of her bubble gum pink hair around her finger. She looks like she always does; sapphire eyes framed with glitter, glossy lips, wearing black high-heeled boots and a short dress that matches them. There are only two differences between the Raven I met when I was a kid and this one standing in front of me. This one has a fresh scar on her throat where the fake detective—that was really part of the Anamotti—slit Raven’s throat.
     
    “What do you want?” I start down the stairway, slipping the pocket knife into my back pocket, knowing there’s no way I’d actually use it on her, but I wouldn’t hesitate to use it on the Anamotti.
     
    She beams at me like there’s nothing going on, as though we haven’t been