A Book of Dust and Breath

De eacomiskey

50.2K 5.1K 1.7K

Max has spent the past several thousand lifetimes as a Reaper among humans and, despite the pleasures of a ti... Mais

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Learning To Cook
Chapter 3.1
Chapter 3.2
Chapter 4.1
Chapter 4.2
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Girls, Mate
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter 15.1
Chapter 15.2
Crete, 1810
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter 19.1
Chapter 19.2
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter 25.1
Chapter 25.2
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
SAMHAIN
Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter 33.1
Chapter 33.2
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter 36.1
Chapter 36.2
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Nine
Sailing
Part Two - Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty One
Chapter Forty Two
Chapter Forty Three
Chapter Forty Four
Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Six
Chapter Forty Seven
Chapter Forty Eight
Chapter Forty Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty One
The First Reap
Chapter Fifty Two
Chapter Fifty Three
Author's Note

Chapter Five

959 97 28
De eacomiskey

On earth once more, Max hurried toward the club with single-minded determination, only to discover Lily on her way out. Her eyes met his. Her spine stiffened. Without a word, she turned her back and walked in the direction of the hotel.

"Lily, please wait," he called. One of the girls in line near the door bumped into him and he staggered, nearly falling into the street.

Lily walked on, her stride long and certain. Apparently, her drunken buzz had worn off, as had his.

Scraping together the last shreds of will, he forced himself into a jog. "Please, let me explain."

She stopped so suddenly he had to backtrack to get to her. She said nothing, only stood there, waiting for him to explain, cold anger radiating from her. Her eyes roamed his face. Lord only knew what she saw there, but it prompted the return of the little line between her brows.

"What happened to you?" she asked in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the street.

He took her hand in his and pulled her gently out of the stream of pedestrians, toward the doorway of a closed storefront. It was the first time he'd purposefully touched her. Her hand was warm and strong. The contact healed something inside him that had been badly battered. He made no move to let go of her and she did not pull away.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am."

"You left me there. I felt stupid." She stated the fact with no shame. It was simply the truth and nothing else.

"I'm sorry," he said again. He couldn't remember the last time he had apologized for anything. Regret burned in him. He would have loved nothing more than holding this woman in his arms on the dance floor.

She pulled her hand away. "Thank you for your apology, but that's really not enough." She began to turn and he reached for her, stopping just shy of contact. Her hatred of being grabbed had already been demonstrated.

"It's my work," he said, desperate to make her stay, too exhausted to filter his words as well as he should.

She paused, giving him a chance to say more.

"I... I was... you know..." he fished for a word. Summoned? Somehow that didn't seem quite like the thing to put her at ease. He settled on, "paged."

"You don't have a pager." Her long arms folded over her chest--armor against lies. "No one has a pager anymore."

"Yeah, well... no. I don't have a pager. Not like you think. It's complicated. We have a very... uhm... reliable system. And unusual. And I really don't have the option to refuse when they call. I'm on vacation, but someone was supposed to do something here in Vegas and they weren't available, and my superiors know I'm here, so they called, and they didn't even give me a chance to tell you, and," he realized he was babbling like an idiot. "And that's what happened," he finished, lamely. "I'm very sorry."

She studied him for a long moment longer. "You look like you've been through Hell. I've seen people come out of day-long spars who look less worn out than you right now."

"My work can be a little draining at times."

"You're not a psychologist."

"I never said I was."

She took a tiny step closer to him, arms falling to her sides. "I don't date casually. My parents are all about courting. That's how I was raised. You don't spend time with a man socially, unless he's a prospective husband." She sucked on one side of her lip in a gesture that made his weak legs turn to water.

"You're not in your parents' home anymore. You don't have to live by their rules."

"I like that rule. I'm on my own for now, but the truth is, I'm the heiress to an empire. I can't risk playing around. I shouldn't have let you sit with me. I don't even know you."

"And you never will if you walk away now." It struck him that wasn't necessarily true. A good many people got to know him in their last moments. It was entirely possible she would be one of them.

"Will you tell me what your work is?"

His poor, exhausted heart stuttered. "I can't do that."

"Are you some sort of secret government operative or something?"

No words came to him.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked. "Why should I spend time with some guy who came to Vegas looking to hook up with a woman? That's not what I do."

The world swam in front of him. He needed to lie down. This sack of flesh could only be pushed so far. Shadow crawlers could literally suck the life force from a being. He was stronger than a human, but not invincible.

Her hands held his shoulders, strong, steadying. "Max?"

A slow blink pushed back the darkness.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No. I need to rest. I just... they took a lot out of me. I need to sleep."

"They?"

He nodded.

She looked over the crowd on the street. "Where are they now?"

"Gone."

A great sigh escaped from her. "Do you have your room key?"

He fished in his back pocket, found the plastic card, and handed it to her.

She wrapped his arm around her shoulders and half-dragged him back to the hotel.

He supposed he should be humiliated. Surely every person they passed thought he was too drunk to stand on his own, but the sweet fragrance of perfume drifting up from her neck distracted him past such concerns.

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