Free Grave Destinations by Lori Sjoberg Page B

tonight.”
    He wanted to push for answers, for confirmation—the urge nearly overwhelmed him. But then he noticed the uncharacteristic slump in her shoulders, the strain lining her features, and he couldn’t bring himself to push her any further.
    “All right, you win. For now. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your cabin,” he said, mentally berating himself for being such a sap. He held out his hand, felt a rush of warmth when her fingers meshed with his. “But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. This conversation isn’t over.”
    “Of course not.”
     
    They walked in silence, lost in their thoughts as they descended the stairs to the third floor and Ruby’s cabin.
    How on earth could he possibly know? Not knowing the answer was driving her crazy. Over the years she’d been called almost every name in the book, but “reaper” had never made the list until tonight. Mortals weren’t aware of their existence, and everything else steered clear of the agents of Death.
    And if that were the case, what did that make Jack?
    She darted a subtle glance in his direction. Even now, she sensed his vitality, strong and unyielding, a constant deep rumble showing no signs of weakness.
    Mortal, but not quite human.
    She hadn’t picked up on it before, hadn’t paid close enough attention to notice the slightly different pitch and tenor to his essence. On the surface it felt distinctly human. But when she sharpened her focus she detected something foreign threaded between the layers of humanity, unknown and unidentifiable.
    So if he wasn’t human, then what was he?
    Guess she had her own mystery to unravel.
    “I’m going on an excursion first thing in the morning, but I want to see you tomorrow night,” Jack said when they reached the door to her cabin. His brown eyes held an unwavering resolve that let her know she wasn’t weaseling her way out of this one. But she also saw kindness, and compassion, and a genuine affection that tugged at her heart. “I mean it. We need to talk.”
    “I know.” She let out a weary breath.
    His features softened as he lifted a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Whatever he was, he meant her no harm. “Are you going to be all right?”
    Not really. “Sure.” Maybe after a drink or two or eight. She usually wasn’t the type to drown her sorrows in alcohol, but tonight might prove to be an exception. Being pegged as a reaper had left her awkward and off-kilter, a combination she wasn’t accustomed to feeling.
    “Liar.” A faint smile warmed his lips.
    “Guilty as charged.” She let out a laugh that sounded as hollow as she felt. “Sorry, I’m off my game tonight. I promise to do better tomorrow.”
    His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb stroking lightly against her cheek. Then the smile vanished, and his eyes darkened with desire. “You’ve had a difficult evening,” he said, his voice turning rough. “I’d better go.”
    She felt oddly touched by his refusal to press the situation to his advantage. Such acts of chivalry were in short supply these days, a rare quality most women appreciated. But not her, and not after a night like tonight. She slipped a hand around his neck, drawing his head downward. The tension in her muscles eased a bit when the richness of his scent enveloped her, so musky and brooding and undeniably male.
    “Kiss me,” she murmured, right before she brushed her lips against his, a brazen invitation she prayed he couldn’t resist. She wanted to forget about the dead girl, the grieving father, and the path of destruction that inevitably trailed in her wake.
    He hesitated a heartbeat, right before his mouth came crushing down over hers, finally letting go of that tightly reined control. His lips were smooth and his mouth tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking, steeped with a heady dose of sensuality that came close to making her whimper.
    He pulled back for a moment, his breathing uneven and his eyes heavy-lidded