Read Online Reaper's Vow by Sarah McCarty - Free Book Online

Cole swirled the whiskey in his cup. “Addy’s family.”
    â€œMine, too.”
    â€œShe didn’t even know you until three months ago.”
    â€œShe’s Reaper now.”
    â€œSo are the guys that tried to kill you back on the trail.”
    Gaelen tossed back his drink. “Every family has its bad apples.”
    Cole poured him another and probed carefully. “Seems like your whole tree’s plum bad.”
    â€œUh-huh.” Gaelen tossed back that drink, too, and held out the cup. Cole filled it with the last of the bottle. As the last drop hit the cup, Gaelen smiled. “Things are not always as they appear.”
    â€œWhat the hell does that mean?”
    The other man stood and tossed back the last shot of the whiskey as steadily as he had the first. “It would appear you’re not only not getting my whiskey, you’re also not getting any answers.” He turned. Right before he got to the door, he threw over his shoulder, “Reapers don’t get drunk.”
    Cole watched the door close behind him and looked at his near-empty cup. “Well, hell.”
    He could have mentioned that earlier.
    * * *
    Cole took the empty whiskey bottle and spun it on the table. Addy was a Reaper. He shook his head. His sweet, shy, scared-to-the-toes-inside, completely-composed-on-the-outside cousin a Reaper. Whatever the hell that meant. He stopped the spinning bottle with the flat of his hand.
    What had Addy gotten them into? Christ, he was beginning to believe even the Reapers themselves didn’t know what being Reaper meant. If that were the case, how was he supposed to protect her? How could Isaiah protect her? How could anyone protect her?
    Fuck. Cole grabbed his cup and pushed back from the table. He needed air and space in which to think. He needed to release the energy whipping around inside him. He needed to ride hard until exhaustion gave him peace. He opened the door. Short of that, he needed a good brawl.
    No guard challenged his exit. A gust of wind charging before the upcoming storm whipped his hat to the side. He caught it, resettling it with a wry smile. Clearly, Isaiah wasn’t set on preventing his leaving. Hell, the man was probably hoping Cole would hightail it out of here before the storm blew over. That wasn’t going to happen. Cole closed the door behind himself. Until he knew Addy was safe, Cole wasn’t going anywhere.
    Raindrops hit his hat in fat plops. Energy pulsed on the breeze, and a sense of foreboding peppered him along with the rain. A ride was out, but might be he could pay Rage a visit if the Reapers had brought him here. Only one way to know.
    Cole headed for the barn. Large and well built, it was clearly the first thing they’d put together. That was interesting. Apparently for Reapers as well as humans, a good horse meant survival.
    The barn door swung silently open on well-oiled hinges. The scent of grain and horse wrapped Cole in a familiar hug. As a boy, he’d always gone to the barn to think, and as an adult, he still found the familiar scents and sounds soothing. He looked up and debated the empty hayloft, but he didn’t want to be stuck up in a loft if trouble came calling.
    He whistled for Rage. A horse nickered. Another stomped its foot, but Rage’s familiar snort was nowhere to be heard. Damn.
    To the right there was a wooden box up against the wall, probably for tack. Wandering over, he took a seat. Leaning back against the wall, stretching out his legs, he let the day’s weariness seep out. He wished it was as easy to relax his mind. When he’d left the ranch, his goal had been simple: to find Addy and bring her home. He’d found Addy, but simple was long past gone.
    He lifted the cup to his lips, listening to the rain. Such a calm, peaceful sound in the middle of chaos. He tried to concentrate on it. And failed. The whiskey hit his tongue in a smooth flow of flavor, the bite coming on