Reaper's Vow Read Free

love with Jones. The man wore trouble the way some wore chaps. By all rights, one look at him should have sent sweet Addy running for cover. That it hadn’t irked Cole to no end. It made no sense, and things that didn’t make sense churned his gut, but the one thing Addy hadn’t been afraid of was that man. And that took skill. Not magic. The same skill a cardsharp used in a poker game. Illusion and pretense. That was all the magic Jones possessed.
    Cole remembered how Addy had stood in the curve of Jones’s arm and defied them while Jones had looked . . . befuddled. Shit. Cole shook his head again at the instant of sympathy he’d felt for the man at the time. He urged Rage forward with a press of his knees. He didn’t know what Jones had done to make Addy cuddle up to him like he was her favorite feather bed, but it wasn’t going to work on Cole. And no doubt it’d stopped working on Addy by now. Jones might have had her walking around as if under some lovesick spell, but that had ended the night of the dance when all hell had broken loose. When the wolves had attacked. When Jones had . . . Cole frowned. He had memory lapses about that night due to his injuries, but he knew Isaiah had done something. Something that had put a look of horror and terror in Addy’s eyes. Jones was going to pay for that. Cole had promised Addy she’d never have to be afraid again when he’d brought her home the first time. Now Jones had made a liar out of him. That score needed settling as much as Addy needed rescuing.
    Another trickle of rocks signaled more movement above. Different pulses of energy flicked at him. Animal and human. One, two, five, ten. Too many too count. Too many too sort. All moving in from different angles, different distances. All centered on him. Farther down the trail Cole could see where the hills sloped toward each other and narrowed the path, the perfect place for an ambush. Looking over his shoulder, the path was just as narrow. There was no going back and no going forward. Ahead and again to the right, there was another cut in the bank. The space was just big enough to hold him. He patted Rage’s shoulder, reached behind, and unbuckled his saddlebags.
    â€œLooks like this is it.” As if he understood, the horse tossed his head. “I’m going to hold them off while you make a break for it.” Cole opened the flap of the saddlebags, grabbing bullets and stuffing them into the deep pockets of his duster. Now, he not only had Reapers to deal with but wolves. Rage snorted and sidestepped.
    â€œYeah. I feel it, too. There’s a shit storm coming.”
    The warning tingles were climbing like ants up his spine. The Reapers didn’t surprise him but the wolves? That did. Rainfall had been light of late but not that light. Certainly not enough of a drought to cause desperation. Which meant there was another explanation. And no matter what Reese thought, Cole didn’t believe Reapers were wolves wearing a human disguise. More than likely the Reapers had a few wolves as pets, and folks in shock from battle had jumbled their memories into something much more fantastic. As the legend gave them power, the Reapers had been content to let the rumors grow to myth. Cole dismounted, listening to his senses. Not liking what they were telling him.
    Dragging his saddlebags off Rage’s back, he slung them over his shoulder. Tugging the horse’s reins, he urged him forward. “Wait for me down the trail.” Rage tossed his head and planted his feet. Cole slapped his flank.
    â€œNot your fight today, friend.”
    Rage hesitated, tossed his head, nostrils flaring as he reared, his cream white mane catching the light. His front hooves made a staccato tattoo on the hard ground when he hit all fours again. It was a measure of Rage’s loyalty that he paused when the scent of wolf had to be hanging so heavy in the air.
    Cole slapped