The Death Dealer Excerpt

 CHAPTER ONE 

Trevor Blane observed Soleil Stephens puttering about in her greenhouse from his spot beneath the tall pines, thirty yards away.

“Earth witches,” he muttered.

How provincial they all were!

This one was no different.

She was toiling away at her workbench, scooping dirt into a pot as she planted yet another seedling. How ridiculous to use her hands and waste hours when a simple snap of her fingers would do. Watching her spend time with her plants was like watching grass grow—boring and a complete waste of his time.

She cooked like a five-star Michelin chef, though. Her cherry pie brought a smile to his lips whenever he thought about it. Four months ago, when they were all cloistered at the Aether’s England estate, she and her hotter-than-hell sister Taryn made sure none of those present went hungry. Trevor still dreamed about that goddamned flaky pie crust.

“I suppose she has that going for her,” he said aloud.

On the short side, Soleil possessed a full hourglass figure. Her hair was the color of the richest, darkest soil and bundled in a topknot that forever listed to one side. Stray tendrils escaped from the thick bun and curled along the nape of a graceful neck. Longer, non-strategically placed strands framed her rounded, flushed face. Like any witch, she had the ability to glamour and make herself perfect, but apparently, she preferred the form she was born with.

If Trev were being objective, he’d say she was attractive, but he preferred taller, sleeker women like Soleil’s ethereal older sister, Vivian. Of course, as the wife of the Aether, she was off-limits to any man who wanted to take another breath. Damian Dethridge would smite anyone who considered hooking up with his beloved mate. And Trev had no desire to feel the pain of that sonofabitch’s fury. Been there, done that.

None of his musings mattered. He was here for a job. A shitty, tedious job, but a job all the same.

When Soleil wiped her brow with her sleeve, leaving behind a smear of dirt, he cringed. Barely suppressing the desire to teleport in and scrub her face clean, he sighed his irritation. He should abandon his post. The woman rarely left her property unless she went to her nonsensical potion store, The Elemental Shop, to sell unsuspecting mortals her useless witchy wares. It wasn’t like he needed to be here, right?

Why Trev had to stick to a timeline for this particular Death Dealer mission was a mystery. If he was going to eventually be tasked with taking her life, he might as well get it over with. He doubted he’d alter Fate’s design by killing her early. The woman didn’t appear to contribute to society in any worthwhile way.

A mouthwatering memory of cherry pie teased his brain.

Okay, maybe her baked delicacies were the exception. For another slice, he’d tell the Authority to go fuck themselves and protect her until his own dying day. Those delicious creations had transported him back to when his mother used to make him the best apple desserts known to man. Goddess, how he missed his mother. All these years of endless aching in his chest.

Soleil’s squeal drew his attention, and he grimaced at the sight of the spilled potting soil. The poor woman was on the klutzy side, too. Why the hell had he drawn the short straw? The other Authority veterans had laughed at him when they heard of this assignment. Most were sent after the worst-of-the-worst criminals.

Not Trevor, though.

He was forced to babysit an earth elemental witch until the deities determined her time was up.

Who really knew why? He’d stopped questioning the Fates twenty-seven years ago. Going against the Authority would get you dead or, at the very least, punished. And who wanted banishment? Not him. The last time he’d braved going against his employer for the Aether and his daughter, it had earned him and his teammates shit jobs. Similar to this one.

And he hated it.

Trev appreciated the finer things in life. Wine, women, and fast cars. Not necessarily in that order. The witch in the greenhouse was another means to that end.

Like a startled deer, Soleil’s head came up, and her eyes scanned the tree line where he was hidden. His inclination was to duck backward into the brush, but he was confident she couldn’t see him behind his cloaking wall. She frowned her confusion and spun in a slow circle, looking for the source of her unease.

It appeared Soleil Stephens had finely tuned instincts. Finally! Something Trev could admire about her. Not that he wanted to, because liking her wasn’t conducive to carrying out her assassination.

Again, the Aether came to mind. Trev prayed the man wasn’t close to his sister-in-law. That was one fucker he didn’t need on his ass. They’d met and worked together to end evil in the past, and he’d seen what Damian was capable of. Hopefully, he would understand that orders were orders when they came from on high. Likely not, though. Trev would need to do some fast talking.

A black-haired child chose that moment to run into the greenhouse. Cradled within the circle of her arms was a small cream-colored animal. “Aunt Soleil! Look what Summer gave me!”

“Summer? Who’s Summer, Sabrina dear?”

“Cousin Alastair’s daughter.”

Trev straightened as his stomach dropped to his feet.

No one had told him a child would be hanging about. Especially not Dethridge’s child. This situation just grew too sticky for his taste. If Sabrina was here, her protective father wouldn’t be far behind. Not to mention, the kid scared the bejesus out of him on a regular basis. Her predictions were freaky accurate, and her abilities were like none he’d ever witnessed. At ten years old, she shouldn’t be stronger than everyone he’d ever met. It wasn’t natural.

The air around him crackled and snapped a mere second before the Aether appeared. The barrier created by his invisibility ring disintegrated, exposing him to Damian’s steely obsidian stare.

Oh shit.

“You have one extremely short window of opportunity to tell me why you’re spying on my daughter, Blane. And it had better be good.”

The Aether wasn’t tall or overly muscular. Damian Dethridge leaned on the side of a pretty boy. Although, at well over two hundred years old, the man would never be considered a boy. No one would dare call him one, either. He was the most powerful force on the planet, minus a god or goddess, and Trev would gamble he’d give any of them a run for their money if it came down to it. All in all, not a man to piss off.

“Not your daughter, Dethridge. You know I’d never hurt her. My mission is the earth witch.”

“Mission? What possible mission could a Death Dealer have with my sister-in-law?”

Trev was sure his face turned a pukey shade of green, but he manned up and answered all the same. “The Authority sent me.”

“Well, the Authority can unsend you. My extended family is off-limits.”

“I can’t go back until my work is completed, Dethridge. I’m already on probation. They’ll kill me if I disobey.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t. So I suppose you need to decide which way is preferable for you to leave this world.”

Frustration welled inside Trev, and he wanted to kick the tree he’d been lounging against. He needn’t have shown restraint, because the Aether possessed the ability to read minds if he cared to. Still, Trev held back. Barely.

“Look, my orders are to watch her. For now. I’m not to harm her unless a command comes down from Councilwoman Vector.”

Considering eyes studied him, taking his measure. They gave away nothing of Damian’s feelings on the matter. “Why Soleil?”

“I don’t know.”

“Figure it out. Fast.”

“I’m serious. I don’t know. Believe me, I’ve taken a lot of shit for it, too.”

“He’s telling the truth, Papa,” piped a young voice behind Trev.

“Dammit, Beastie!”

The magical slap was indicative of Damian’s anger, and Trev was slammed into the thick base of the oak tree. The rough bark scraped his forearm, but he’d be damned if he whined about it in front of them.

Sabrina ignored her father’s wrath and approached him. She was a pint-sized tornado and the feminine version of Damian, and those fathomless yet all-knowing eyes on a child seemed wrong. After a full minute of watching him, she smiled.

The eeriness of it traveled all the way to his toes.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Trevor,” she said cheerfully. “I—”

“Beastie, go find your mother.”

“But he’s going to—”

“Not another word!” Damian’s sharp command rang out like a gunshot. The wildlife of the forest behind them went silent, as did Trev. Mainly because he forgot to breathe.

Sabrina’s pink, heart-shaped lips thinned in irritation, and she glared at her dad.

What did it say about the size of the balls on a kid willing to go toe-to-toe with her unrelenting, all-powerful father? Solid brass cajones on that one, for sure.

“I’ll just be heading out now,” Trev said with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder.

Although the Aether hadn’t bothered to look at him, his chilly address locked him in place. “You’ll go nowhere, Blane. Not until this is settled, and I’m sure my children are in no danger.”

Sabrina faced Trev with twinkling eyes and a wide smile. “That’s a good thing. You’ll get to see Aunt Soleil again.”

Soleil was unable to keep up with her niece whenever the child decided to teleport off without warning. The Aether had appeared about thirty yards west of her greenhouse, and Sabrina was off. Frustrated beyond measure, Soleil stomped to where the girl had reappeared behind her father.

Only then did she see the man Damian was talking to.

He had sandy-brown hair and a stern countenance. His face wasn’t beautiful like Damian’s, but his visage had an arresting quality. His build was that of a professional football player, but he held himself with a comfortable grace as if he was at ease in his big frame. If he walked into a room, people were sure to do a double take.

And she knew him.

Or rather, of him. Soleil had been unable to stop obsessing since their first meeting.

She was out of breath by the time she arrived at Damian’s side, and it wasn’t for the singular reason that she was out of shape. Lifting pots and soil had built her stamina, but all that went by the wayside with one glimpse of Trevor. She’d arrived in time to hear the Aether’s low-voiced command and Sabrina’s cheerful response. She also witnessed Trevor Blane wince.

He wasn’t super excited to see Aunt Soleil, was he?

Keeping her expression blank and showing no outward sign of the turmoil she was experiencing, Soleil gave him a tight, dismissive smile. Next, she faced Damian. “I’m sorry. She’s quick.”

“No bother, dear Soleil. It’s not the first time. My daughter and I will have a nice, long discussion about her penchant for placing herself in risky situations without permission.”

Sabrina cast her eyes downward, focusing on the kitten she held. The girl was the picture of contrite. “Sorry, Papa.”

Soleil didn’t believe the little monster for one second, and she struggled not to laugh at the false apology. Glancing up, she caught Damian’s sardonic smile, and she snorted. Not a ladylike sound by any means, and her face burned when her brother-in-law laughed.

Mortified, she pressed her palms to her hot cheeks and avoided looking at their too-observant visitor. No one was more surprised than she was when Damian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugged her close, and kissed her temple.

“You are beautifully unique, Soleil. Remember that, my dear,” he said in a low voice.

There was a deeper meaning in his words, but she was damned if she understood what it was. However, if the Aether decreed it, she’d try like heck to adhere to it.

“I’ll take Sabrina back now.”

“No need. I’ll escort her to Vivian,” Damian said, hoisting his daughter in his arms. “Maybe my wife can figure out how to curb Beastie’s impulsiveness. Goddess knows I can’t, no matter how I’ve tried.”

“Blane, we’ll talk soon,” he added.

With one last stern look toward their visitor, the Aether teleported away, leaving Soleil at a distinct loss as to how to extract herself from her current situation gracefully. Taking a deep breath, she faced Trevor.

His haughty-eyed stare made her squirm inside. She wasn’t in any doubt about the man liking her. He definitely did not. Why her niece felt he’d care to meet her again was anyone’s guess. If Soleil was disappointed, she refused to show it.

“I’ll let you go back to whatever it was you were doing,” she said as politely as she could manage. She didn’t know why she paused for Trevor’s response, but she did, and when it came, she cringed.

“Trust me, you’d never be able to stop me from whatever I was doing.”

His arrogance rankled.

“Well, have at it, buster. I hope you have fun.” In a huff, she turned and began the trek back to her greenhouse.

The contrary man trailed along behind her.

She spun back around. “Why are you following me?”

“I’m getting on with whatever it was I was doing.” For the first time, he looked amused. “And I intend to have fun with it.”

Soleil’s stomach dropped, and she was positive she wouldn’t like the answer to her next question. “What were you doing?”

“Observing you.”

“Why?” Her heart rate kicked up, and her palms became sweaty. 

“An assignment from the Authority.”

Dreading his response, she ventured another “Why?”

“I’m their resident Death Dealer.”

Panic took over. His mission could only mean one thing—her demise! Blackness descended, and she promptly fainted.

CHAPTER TWO 

Trevor wasn’t quick enough to catch Soleil when she collapsed, but he was a damned sight faster when it came to stopping the blood flow from the wound on the side of her head. She’d connected with the sharp edge of a rock as she fell, and now, Trev’s life was forfeit if he couldn’t heal her before Dethridge found out. The Aether would assume he’d attacked her.

Irritated with his new charge, Trev lifted her into his arms, surprised it didn’t feel like an effort, and teleported to her greenhouse. After placing her gently on the cushioned bench serving as a daybed, where she liked to read, he squatted next to her and smoothed the burnt-chestnut hair from her wound to examine it. It was nothing to provide the healing touch that came naturally to him.

Soleil wasn’t going to suffer undue injuries on his watch. Not as long as he was forced to answer to the Aether. He could dance around anything the Authority threw at him later.

Trev heard her sharp inhale followed by a hiss of pain, but he didn’t stop until the gash was sealed. He was finishing up as her lashes fluttered open, and he made the grave mistake of eye contact.

Those eyes!

Round, with milk-chocolate irises, they were large and warm, but they saw through him in an instant. Never before had a woman looked at him with trepidation or disdain—not without reason. Soleil had none.

She awoke spitting mad and shoved his hand away. Glancing wildly around, she calmed somewhat the instant she recognized her surroundings. Still, she kept a safe distance from him, with her back pressed against the greenhouse wall.

“Thank you,” she said. Grudgingly, at that.

Trev almost smiled, but years of maintaining a poker face helped hide his amusement. “Death Dealers don’t heal strangers without consequence. Please keep this to yourself.”

Her eyes flared wider in her alarm, but she nodded her agreement.

Needing a diversion from his standard boredom, he studied her workspace. Things looked different up close. Homier instead of chaotic, as he’d first suspected. Benches and bistro tables were scattered about, tucked in alcoves thick with palms. Newly potted plants dotted a stained wooden table running the length of the greenhouse. The overall effect was rustic and charming. Sure, not his style, but nice, all the same.

“Why is a Death Dealer spying on me?” Her voice wasn’t tentative, as he might’ve suspected, but neither was it one-hundred-percent back to normal.

Trev paused in his inspection of an orchid. If he didn’t miss his guess, it was extremely rare.

“Is this a Rothschild’s Slipper Orchid?” He shouldn’t be surprised Soleil owned one, but he was. “These go for upwards of five thousand dollars on the black market.”

Her brows shot up as astonishment lit her face, and Trev noticed for the first time that her brows were almost black. Next to her soft brown eyes and milky skin, the contrast was extraordinary. Much more interesting than the orchid beside him.

“I know what it is and where they are grown, Trevor… or, er, Mr. Blane.” Her forehead crinkled delightfully in her confusion. “How do you prefer to be addressed?”

“Trevor or Blane. You can leave off the mister.”

“Hmm.”

Because her reaction was odd, he felt the need to question why. “What’s wrong with my first name?”

“Nothing, I suppose.”

He cocked his head a fraction. “What’s not right with my name?”

“It’s just all the Trevors I’ve ever met are complete assholes,” she blurted, missing his shock as she warmed to the subject. “Total jocks with nothing better to do than to terrorize shy, overweight girls in the—” The instant her diatribe caught up with her brain, her hand flew to her mouth and her skin turned the scarlet shade of the Spanish Dress rose blooming on the bush beside her.

“Seems your schoolmate has given all the rest of us Trevors a bad name,” he managed with a straight face. “Should I kill him?”

Her skin turned parchment white, and she frantically shook her head.

He presented his back to hide his grin. “I don’t know. I have strong standards, and the smearing of so honored a name—”

A clump of dirt hit him in the back of the head. Not hard enough to hurt, but definitely enough to get his attention. For the first time in his entire adult life, he was shocked speechless by a woman. He spun around and looked at her with new eyes.

Apprehension was in every line of Soleil’s round face, and her lips were compressed as if she was attempting to hold back a plea of forgiveness. But her chin, surprisingly pointy, considering, lifted in the air, and fierce determination was reflected back at him from those expressive eyes.

“What the fuck, lady?”

“I don’t want you to kill bullies named Trevor.”

He crossed to where she sat with her shoulders back and her fingers woven tightly into the sofa throw she mostly rested on. Her white knuckles gave her away.

Trev allowed a small, wicked smile. “What about bullies not named Trevor?”

It sunk in he was joking, and her relief was palpable. She closed her eyes, and he wanted to beg her to open them again. The thought shook him.

“I should go.” But strangely, he didn’t want to. This was the most interesting day he’d had in months, and he was loath to leave. Still, she was beginning to have a bizarre effect on his equilibrium, and he’d always made it a point never to interact with potential targets. Not that she was one after today. Once the all-powerful Aether had discovered Trevor’s surveillance of Soleil, the likelihood of Trev carrying through with a definitive action was nil. The man would approach the Authority directly and take matters into his own hands.

“Wait! I have a question.” She lunged forward and grabbed his arm, falling into Trevor as she tangled with the blanket. Her face impacted low on his stomach, just above the waistband of his slacks, as she fell to her knees. With a gasp and a horrified glance upward, she clung to his hips, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

His reaction was shockingly different. The sight of her—flushed cheeks, mouth parted in surprise, and wild hair tumbling down around her shoulders—turned him on like nothing had in months, perhaps even longer. Of their own accord, his fingers tangled in her riot of curls. To do what? He couldn’t exactly say, but when reason took over, he tilted her head back and away from his thickening dick. To do otherwise would embarrass them both.

“I should go,” he repeated, not recognizing the gravelly voice as his own.

Soleil gripped his wrists on either side of her face and used the strength of his arms to propel herself upwards. She hadn’t missed the sliver of movement indicating he was going to urge her head toward his crotch before his reason returned. And she sure as hell wasn’t certain what she’d have done had he not changed his mind and shifted her head away.

Humiliation became her closest companion.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I’m not the most graceful of women.”

“Yeah, think nothing of it.”

They still had yet to release one another, and the unknown force keeping their gazes locked disturbed her on a deeper level. She shouldn’t be attracted to a Death Dealer. No good would come of it. She certainly hadn’t imagined his dismissive look earlier, either, and she was pretty sure he didn’t care for her brand of earthy woman. Tearing her gaze away from those piercing blue eyes of his, she did a sweep of his body. Why not, when it was up close and personal?

“Like what you see?” His initial shock had apparently worn off, and he was watching her the way a cat would a mouse it intended to toy with.

“I was simply wondering if you ever left the house in anything other than dress clothes.”

His mouth ticked up slightly on the left side, the only hint she’d amused him. By the time she’d blinked, his expression was once again bored. He had the nerve to glance at his watch, then say, “You have roughly twenty seconds to spit out your question. I have a schedule to keep.”

“Rude.”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“Screw you,” she snapped.

“Ten,” he replied. “And wouldn’t you like to?”

“Not in the least, you arrogant beast.”

“Mm.” He tilted up her chin and stared deep into her eyes. All signs of boredom gone. The cat had come out to play. “Shall I prove you wrong, Soleil Stephens?”

Goddess, she wanted him to, but she shook her head.

“Your loss, earth witch.” He checked his watch again. “Time’s up.”

“No! Wait. I—”

But he was gone, and she was talking to an empty greenhouse. Disappointment and frustration ganged up and tried their best to suffocate her. She shoved them both away. Later, she’d see what Damian could tell her about Trevor Blane and why a Death Dealer might be stalking her. In the meantime, she’d do her damnedest to get her wayward desires under control.

She’d only taken two steps when she felt a foreign presence behind her. Spinning around, she raised her hands to strike. Trevor was too fast. He gripped her wrists and urged her arms out to her sides, but not in a painful way. When his rock-hard chest pressed into her breasts, Soleil did her best not to whimper at the pleasurable contact.

“I forgot something,” he said in a low, seductive voice.

“Wh-what’s that?”

“This.”

He lowered his head to hers, pausing only long enough for her to protest if she intended to—she had absolutely no intention of objecting—and then he possessed her mouth like a fucking pirate of old. Soleil tugged at her wrists, trying to free her hands so she could touch him. But he held her captive as his talented tongue repeatedly delved into her mouth, wringing little mews of pleasure from her.

When he pulled away, unmistakable satisfaction was reflected in his gleaming eyes and a gloating smile she desperately wanted to smack off his face.

“I think that proves all we need to know,” he said with a mocking laugh.

For some strange reason, he hadn’t released her or shied away from the contact with her body. As if he’d just realized the same thing himself, he dropped her arms and stepped back.

“See you around, earth witch.”

“Not if I see you first,” she retorted, angry at herself for wanting a man who was clearly a jerk.

He placed a palm over his heart and sighed dramatically. “I’m wounded.”

Temper stirring, Soleil balled her hands into tight fists. She hated to be mocked, and it appeared all Trevors were punkasses. And because she’d never been great at comebacks, she silently stewed in the face of his amusement.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and he shook his head slightly, as if bemused. “Who the hell knew you kissed like that?” he murmured, almost to himself.

“So maybe you’re the one who would like to screw me,” she taunted with her hands on her hips.

They both winced.

Yeah, she really needed to work on her witty rejoinders.

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