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Adrianne’s head moved restlessly from side to side on the pillow. Outside the window, an owl hooted. Locked in a nightmare, she didn’t hear it.

Heart pounding, legs pumping, she raced through the woods. Heavy footfalls sounded behind her. Branches whipped at her face, slashing her skin. Stumbling to a stop, she leaned against a hickory tree and tried to listen above the pulse thumping in her ears. Cheek resting against the scratchy bark, she struggled to slow her breathing enough to hear.

The silence was deafening.

The woods were never quiet. Even at night, there was a rhythm as the nocturnal creatures came out to play. Tonight, the deadliest predator in the world was stalking her—man.

Snap! The sound echoed in the silence. Too close.

Shoving away, she pushed on. She had to find somewhere to hide from her nameless, faceless pursuer. Nothing was familiar. There was no trail, no recognizable markers.

“You thought you could leave me. I’ll find you wherever you go. You belong to me.” They were the same words from the note. The male voice had an eerie, almost otherworldly quality about it. “You can run, you can hide, but I’ll find you.”

Not if she could help it. Putting on a burst of speed, she veered to the right. The house had to be somewhere close. Inside was her grandpa’s shotgun. All she had to do was find it.

A light in the distance sent a bolt of hope blasting through her. Light meant people or maybe home. Light meant safety. The muscles in her legs burned as she pushed her body to the max. She burst from between two trees and into the front yard.

Home. She’d made it.

A figure shifted in the shadows. “Told you I’d find you.”

Skidding to a halt, she tripped and fell, skinning her hands and knees on the ground. Ignoring the pain, she pushed upright and began to back away. Her legs were like jelly. She had no reserves left to run.

Where was Sam? He’d promised to stay. “Sam.” She tried to yell, but fear had tightened her throat, making it almost impossible to speak. “Sam,” she tried again.

“He can’t help you. No one can.” The nameless man moved toward her.

I’m going to die.

“Help!” she yelled. “Sam!”

The stalker jumped toward her. Damned if she’d go down without a fight. Balling her hand into a fist, she swung. Her hand slammed into flesh.

Gasping for air, Adrianne shot upright in bed. Her dream was real. A shadowy figure loomed over her, holding her fist captive in his hand. She skittered backward, trying to put as much distance between herself and her attacker as possible.

“Adrianne, you were dreaming. It’s Sam.” The light blinded her when it clicked on. She threw her hands up in front of her face to protect her eyes. Lurching out of bed, she grabbed the shotgun she’d propped next to it and swung it around.

Sam sat calmly on the side of her bed, his hands held up in front of him. “I heard you yelling. When I came in, you were thrashing around in the bed.”

Her cotton sleep top and shorts stuck to her skin. Her hair was damp. “Sam?” The vividness of the dream faded, replaced by the reality of a shirtless Sam. His chest was a field of carved muscles from his pecs to his washboard abs. The man might wear a suit back in Vegas, but he had the body of a gladiator. He’d taken the time to pull on his jeans. They were partially zipped but the button was undone, gaping enough to give a glimpse of a thin line of dark hair arrowing down toward his groin.

“You want to lower the shotgun?”

She’d forgotten she was holding it. “Safety’s on.” But she lowered the barrel until it pointed at the floor. She dragged a hand over her face and took a deep breath. “Sorry about that.”

A quick flash of white teeth. “It would only have been a problem if you’d fired.”

He was making a joke out of her turning a shotgun on him? Either he was one cool customer or he was pretending he was fine with it. Narrowing her gaze, she studied him. There was no sign his pulse was jumping anywhere near as hard as hers. Unlike her, he looked calm and collected.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” Embarrassment was setting in. He’d witnessed her at her most vulnerable. Locked in a dream, unable to wake, she’d been next to defenseless. She needed him out of here so she could pull herself together.

“It’s why I’m here.” He eased off the bed and came toward her. “Let me take the weapon.”

Was he afraid she might decide to use it? Rather than hand it to him, she propped it next to the bed. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me, but you can go now.” The longer he was here, the more she wanted to seek comfort in his arms. She’d been alone for months, living in terror in Chicago, and with a more low-level fear since she’d come home. It had been relentless.

She’d finally thought she’d turned a corner when the wheels had come off, leaving her floundering. Hope cut deeper than a knife. She’d have been better off if she’d never started to believe she was safe. Having it yanked away for the second time was harder, because this time she understood what was in store.

Sam would leave sooner rather than later. The local police would eventually have to relax their vigilance. When she was alone, that’s when her stalker would strike. That’s what made the most sense. Whoever it was, they had time and were highly motivated.

She needed to think. That was impossible with an almost-naked Sam in front of her. She stared at the floor. Even his bare feet were sexy.

“Why don’t you get into bed?” Her head jerked up at his husky suggestion, but he’d already turned away and was straightening the sheet she’d twisted almost into a knot. He wasn’t suggesting he climb in beside her. That was all on her. What better way to wash away the remnants of her nightmare than sex with Sam? It wasn’t using him, not if he understood from the start it was only sex.

She almost laughed when he stood expectantly and waved his hand toward the bed. Her hair probably looked like a wrung-out mop, and she was a sweaty mess. Not exactly enticing. The poor man was waiting to escape and run back to bed. “I’ve got it. You go ahead.” When he cocked an eyebrow, she sighed and slid into bed, resting against the headboard. She didn’t have enough energy to fight him. “Stubborn,” she muttered.

“You know it.” He yanked the sheet up and smoothed it over her stomach. “Want to talk about it?”

She fisted the sheet and shook her head. “Not really. It’s nothing surprising. I was running in the woods from a man I couldn’t see.” The mattress dipped when he sat beside her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She raised her head, unable to not look at him. His black hair was tousled, as if he’d raked his hands through it. Had he had trouble sleeping? Unlike most men, he sported no five-o’clock shadow. No stubble marred his strong jaw. His dark eyes were shadowed with concern. “I’m fine, really.”

He lifted his hand. For a second, she thought he’d touch her, but he dropped it back down to his lap. “I should go.”

“Probably.”

Neither of them moved. Their breathing deepened. When she licked her dry lips, his gaze followed the path of her tongue. A distinctive bulge was outlined against the fabric of his jeans.

He wanted her.

Throwing caution to the wind, she leaned forward and brushed her mouth over his. Heat radiated from his big body. When she pulled back, he was watching her like a wolf would a fox. His fisted hands pressed hard against the mattress. His chest expanded and contracted with each breath.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” His rough voice sent goose bumps down her arms.

“It’s not taking advantage if I want you.”

He shook his head. “You had a nightmare.”

“Why don’t you replace it with a better memory?” She touched her hand to his face. The muscles jumped beneath her fingertips.

“It won’t change anything.”

“I know you won’t stay. I’m okay with that.” When he hesitated, she cursed his noble nature. “Give me something good, something wonderful I can remember when times get dark.”

If his jaw got any tighter, he might crack a tooth. A muscle pulsed in his cheek.

Damn it, he’d volunteered to stay with her, had woken her from a nightmare and offered comfort. And how was she repaying him? By pressing him for sex. That was not well done of her. “I’m sorry, forget I asked.” She dropped her hand. “Let’s chalk it up to nighttime madness.”

“Adrianne.”

She pressed her fingers to his lips before he gave her the “It’s not you, it’s me” speech. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

He made a strangled sound in his throat. He seemed to grow larger and more dangerous in front of her. His eyes burned with some dark emotion she couldn’t decipher. In a quick motion, he swooped down and captured her lips.

…

For the rest of eternity, he’d never forget hearing her screaming his name. The terror in her voice had catapulted him out of bed and across the hall. The relief he’d experienced when he’d realized she was dreaming was crushed beneath a wave of helplessness. If her stalker had attacked, he could have done nothing to help her.

He couldn’t interfere, not unless he wanted to forfeit his freedom. Even if he did, fate would find a way and another reaper would be assigned to her.

Not happening. If she had to die, he was going to be the one to lead her to the afterlife. He owed her that much. If there was such thing as a hell for reapers, he’d be headed straight for it. It was wrong to take advantage of her tumultuous emotions. Wanting sex was a natural and healthy response to her nightmare. It was the most elemental way to celebrate life.

Her lips moved under his, her clever tongue stroking before slipping inside. Resolve weakening, he speared his fingers through her hair and returned the kiss. She was sweet, warm, and willing. He tilted her head, taking, tasting, exploring. Her tiny moans of pleasure made his scalp tingle. His dick pulsed in time to his heavy heartbeat. Every cell in his body screamed to take her. It was what they both wanted.

He pulled away, both of them breathing heavily. “Are you sure?” He shouldn’t even be asking, but he could no more walk away than if he was chained to her side. Something about her had an iron grip on him.

His father wanted him to learn compassion. Sam feared he was going to learn far more than he’d bargained for. The future was unchangeable, their roles set in stone. Why, then, shouldn’t they both grab as much pleasure as possible while they could?

He was justifying his lust for her but didn’t care. At this point, his body overruled his brain. Her fingertips gently feathered over his forehead, down his cheekbones, to his lips. It was as though she was mapping every inch of his face. Her lips were plump and damp from their kiss. When she licked them, he groaned.

“I want you,” she whispered.

His heart squeezed. She wanted Sam Blackwell, wealthy businessman currently having family issues. She didn’t know what she was really getting was Samael, son of the Grim Reaper, and an impartial bystander for her death. She thought him a protector. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

She pressed her fingers against his lips. “I know you’re here and I’m not alone. That’s enough.”

The war within him raged unchecked. Every muscle in his body locked. Go or stay.

Giving him a smile worthy of a siren, she grabbed the hem of her cotton top. The material was thin and soft and clung to the firm curves of her breasts like a second skin. A sound of pain escaped him when she peeled it off and tossed it aside, exposing plump mounds tipped with rosy nipples.

As if not under his control, his hand wrapped around one breast, his thumb teasing the taut nub. Her breath caught in her throat. Pulled forward by the sound, he dragged his tongue over the hard point.

Forcing himself away, he stood and reached for the zipper of his jeans. When she made no protest, he opened it and shoved his pants down, stepping free of the confining material. Her gaze devoured him from head to toe. His cock jerked and his balls drew up tight. When her hands went to the waistband of her sleep shorts, he shook his head. “Let me.”

He wanted to unveil that part of her. He knelt on the foot of the bed, gripped her thighs, and pulled her down until her back was flat on the mattress. The throbbing in his dick was relentless, but he didn’t want to rush. There was only one first time with a woman, and he wanted to savor this time with Adrianne.

Her curly hair spread across her pillow in wild disarray. The brown of her eyes had darkened, a testament to her growing arousal. Her skin was dewy with perspiration, despite the cool night air wafting through the window screen. She was sleek and strong, a product of long hours of physical labor. Tan lines showed on her shoulders and legs. The skin exposed to the sun had a golden glow while what was hidden beneath her clothing was paler. The contrast was strangely arousing. He ran his thumbs across the tops of her thighs where her shorts ended and her bare skin began.

His lungs were working like a bellows, his chest heaving in and out, as he struggled not to take her like a marauding Viking. He skimmed the pads of his fingers over the waistband. Her stomach muscles contracted.

He peeled the thin garment down, revealing the brown curls covering her mound. The seductive scent of her arousal wafted up to greet him. Tossing the fabric aside, he trailed his fingers up the inside of her thighs. They parted, allowing him better access.

“Sam.” This was the way he wanted to remember her saying his name, not the desperate screams from earlier.

“Samael,” he corrected, needing to hear her call him by his given name.

“Samael, the angel of death in some cultures.”

That she recognized his name as biblical didn’t surprise him, but it bothered him that she was aware of it being linked with death.

If only she knew how true it was.

To get both their minds off that subject, he widened her thighs. Her sex was damp and pink and inviting. Mouth watering, he leaned down and licked at the soft folds, getting his first taste of her.

Sweeter than wine, more addictive than ambrosia—he’d never get enough. Her back arched off the bed. “Yes,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Determined to give her the best sex of her life, he feasted, dragging his tongue over and around before centering on her clit. The keening sound she made when he sucked on it raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck. His cock swelled; his pulse pounded in his veins.

“Come for me.” He couldn’t take her until she’d found her pleasure, and he was running out of time, his control hanging by the tips of his fingernails.

To push her over the edge, he eased a thick finger inside her. Her inner muscles clamped down hard. “Samael,” she cried as she came. That she’d remembered and called him by his full name undid him.

Releasing her, he flowed up the bed and over her. He shoved one hand under her firm bottom and lifted, angling their bodies until the head of his shaft was aligned with her opening. With her orgasm still pulsing, he pushed just inside. It was a snug fit.

Adrianne clamped her legs around his flanks and lifted, driving him deeper. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He couldn’t if he wanted to. Pushing up on one forearm so he could see her face, he flexed his hips, driving inward until he was buried to the hilt. Her sex rippled around him, surrounding him with her wet warmth. When she squeezed her inner muscles, something inside him snapped.

He fucked her hard and fast, driven by some dark force to claim, to mark her as his in the most primal way possible. Her moans and cries were music in his ears. The familiar tightening of his balls warned he was close. He drove deep one final time. His vision went dark, all his senses momentarily silenced by the explosive orgasm ripping through him.

Having sex was nothing new. He’d lived for eons, and never had it been like this. Collapsing, he came down on top of her, barely able to breathe. Realizing he was crushing her, he rolled to the side and sucked air into his starving lungs.

What had he done?

…

What had she done?

Her entire body humming from the most intense orgasms of her life—count them, two—she stared at the ceiling and gasped for breath. She’d made love before, but this was on a whole other level. If she’d set out to find the most perfect lover, she couldn’t have found anyone better.

The way he touched her—as if he found her the most fascinating and sexy woman in the world—the intensity with which he kissed her, brought tears to her eyes. The determined expression on his face, the force of his passion had overwhelmed her, in the best way possible. He’d chased her fears away, replacing them with pure pleasure. No nightmare could withstand the lovemaking of Samael Blackwell.

Now that it was over, she expected things to be awkward. She’d never before had sex with a man she wasn’t in a committed relationship with. She waited and finally shrugged. Nope. Nothing. She was riding too high on the wave of pleasure for anything to bring her down. In the morning, things would likely appear much different.

The sheets crinkled as he rolled onto his side to face her. “Are you okay?”

She turned her head on the pillow. For a man who’d just orgasmed, he appeared more pensive than relaxed. The first stirrings of unease rose inside her. “I’m great. You?”

He brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I’m good.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement. Her post-sex high fizzled. “Ah, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I understand if you’d rather go back to your own bed.”

Shut up, Adrianne.

Each word she spoke was making things worse.

His big body tensed, and his lips pursed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to?” Closing her eyes, she huffed out a breath. “I never had a one-night stand, or whatever this is, before. I’m not sure how to act.”

“I didn’t use a condom.”

Like a Band-Aid being ripped off a wound, she jackknifed upright, noticing the wetness between her legs for the first time. “Ohmygod.” It came out as one word as she rolled out of bed and bolted for the bathroom. Inside, she cleaned up and stared at herself in the mirror.

“Everything will be fine.” The last thing she wanted or needed was to get pregnant. Dark-brown eyes stared back at her. “Whatever happens, you’ll handle it.”

Since hiding wasn’t an option, she forced herself to return to the bedroom. Sam was sitting against the headboard with his arms crossed over his chest. He appeared closed off and totally unapproachable. Digging up her courage—it was her damn bed and her damn room—she climbed in beside him.

“I didn’t take care of you. There’s no excuse for my actions.” A muscle in his jaw flexed.

“There were two of us in this bed.” No way was she allowing him to shoulder all the blame. “I’m the one who asked you for sex.” Her cheeks went hot as a blush climbed over her face. “I’ve never done anything like that before. Sex with someone I just met. I don’t have any diseases or anything.” God, what she wouldn’t give to go back to the delicious oblivion she’d been lost in a short while ago.

“I’m always careful.” The way he said it gave her pause. She imagined a man with his money would have to be cautious. There were plenty of women who’d use a child to get a piece of it.

“I don’t want anything from you.” Being prideful might be a sin, but she was damned if she’d allow him to believe for one second she’d forgotten protection on purpose. “Whatever happens, I’ll deal with it.”

Fury flashed in his eyes as they narrowed. His brow lowered. She was braced for his argument when the storm vanished as swiftly as it had arisen. Every emotion was wiped from his face. “It can’t happen again,” he said in a monotone.

Wow, talk about being blunt. “No problem. The way I’m feeling right now, I have no desire to repeat this experiment. The sex was great, but let’s call it one and done.” She was determined to be an adult about this, especially since she was the one who’d pushed for it.

“I didn’t mean the sex. I meant sex without a condom.”

Now it was her turn to frown. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We don’t need to muddy the waters between us any more than we already have.” Their lovemaking had been off the charts, but Sam wasn’t looking for forever. And to her surprise, she wasn’t comfortable with a purely sexual relationship, no matter how spectacular. Sam was a special, once-in-a-lifetime lover, and he cared about her—enough to put his life at risk to protect her—but she was under no illusions he was looking for happily ever after. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall for him and he’d break her heart.

She tried to smile and failed miserably. All she wanted was to be alone so she could privately berate herself for getting into this mess.

Sam’s eyes widened and he lunged, wrapped his arms around her, and rolled them off the bed and onto the floor. They landed with a thump with her sprawled on top of him.

“What the hell?” Had he lost his mind?

Crash! Glass shattered, shards flying across the room. She shrieked when a heavy rock slammed into the wall and dropped to the floor inches from them.

Sam was already in motion. He rolled to his feet and grabbed his jeans as he ran out the door. “Call the police and stay down.”

“Sam! Wait!” The back door slammed behind him. Heart pounding, she dove toward her phone on the nightstand. Heeding the warning, she remained behind the bed for cover. It seemed to take forever for the phone to ring. “Come on, come on.” The device shook in her hand.

“Redemption Police Department.”

“This is Adrianne Sharp. Someone just threw a rock through my bedroom window. Sam Blackwell has gone after him.”

“Ma’am, are you somewhere safe?”

She nodded, realized they couldn’t see her, and answered, “I’m behind the bed.” Reaching out, she grabbed the shotgun. “And I’m armed.” And Sam wasn’t. He was out there alone and unarmed with her stalker.

“Units have been dispatched. Can you move to a closet or bathroom without exposing yourself to danger?”

“Yes.” Scooting on her behind, she headed for the closet. She was currently stark naked. Not how she wanted to confront a possible stalker or meet the police. She paused by her dresser long enough to pull out some clothes. “I’m in the closet.” Setting the shotgun aside and putting the phone on speaker, she dressed in the leggings and tank top she’d grabbed. Then she jammed her feet into a pair of canvas sneakers. There was glass all over the floor.

“You said Sam Blackwell is pursuing the vandal?”

“Yes, Chief Johnson knows about him.”

“I’m aware. We were all briefed.”

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Of course, they’d all been briefed. Her personal life was public fodder. Sirens sounded in the distance. “I hear the police cars. They’re close.”

“Stay in the closet, ma’am, until an officer comes for you.” As much as she wanted to race after Sam, she understood it was smarter to stay put, which was what Sam should have done. She planned on telling him so as soon as he got back, and he damn well better find his way back in one piece. She’d never forgive herself if he got hurt because of her. What had she been thinking to allow him to stay here with her?

“Will do.” With her back against the wall, she sat with the shotgun across her lap and waited. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. Time slowed to a crawl. Every unusual sound made her pulse jump. Chester trotted into the room through the open door, looking disgruntled by the upheaval. She wanted to drag him onto her lap and cuddle him but needed both hands free in case she had to shoot. He settled beside her, a furry sentinel, as the minutes passed.

Bang! Bang!

“Someone’s pounding on the front door,” she told the dispatcher on the phone.

“That’s Officer Jones.”

Adrianne pushed upright on shaky legs. “I’m going to let him in.” If the police were at her door, her stalker had to be long gone. With the shotgun in one hand, the phone in the other, and the cat close at her heels, she hurried down the dark hall toward the door. “Thank you for staying on the line with me.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

Ending the call, she tossed the phone on the nearest chair. “Who is it?”

She wasn’t taking any chances.

“It’s Officer Calvin Jones.”

Recognizing the voice, she turned the lock and opened the door.