While reapers were basically shapeshifters, able to take on any form that would comfort the dying on their final journey, they did possess one "true" shape. And while the combination of my Aedh blood and my psychic skills usually allowed me to see whatever form they used to claim their soul, for some weird reason I saw Azriel’s real form rather than whatever shape he decided to take on. And that shape was compellingly attractive.
His face was chiseled, almost classical in its beauty, and yet possessing a hard edge that spoke of a man who’d won more than his fair share of battles. He was shirtless, his skin a warm, suntanned brown, and his abs well defined. The leather strap that held his sword in place seemed to emphasize the width of his shoulders, and faded jeans clung to his legs, accentuating their lean strength. A stylized black tatt that resembled the left half of a wing swept around his ribs from underneath his arm, the tips brushing across the left side of his neck.
Only it wasn’t a tatt. It was a Dušan—a darker, more stylized brother to the one that had crawled onto my left arm and now resided within my flesh. They were designed to protect us when we walked the gray fields. We’d been sent them by person or persons unknown, although Azriel suspected it was probably my father’s doing. He was one of the few left in this world—or the next—who had the power to make them.
Azriel’s gaze met mine, his blue eyes—one as vivid and bright as a sapphire, the other almost navy, and as dark as a storm-driven sea—giving little away.
"I have seen you in worse condition," he commented. His voice was mellow and rich, and on any other man it would have been sexy. But this wasn’t a man. He merely held that form. And if I reminded myself of that enough, then maybe that tiny, insane part of me that was attracted to this reaper would move on. "What happened?"
"My fucking father." I pulled my arm from his grip and tried to ignore the warmth lingering on my skin as I thrust a hand through my sweaty hair. "And his spell prevented you from answering my call, didn’t it?"
He nodded, and I leaned a shoulder against the nearest wall. My legs were as shaky as hell, and my stomach was still doing unsteady flip-flops.
"What did your father want?"
"Aside from beating me up and threatening to kill my friends, you mean? He wants me to find the keys, and he got rather irked when I suggested that the damn things would probably be better where they are."
He frowned. "Why would you want to leave them as they are?"
"Because if no one can find them, then they can’t endanger the fabric of my world."
"But that is foolishness. If they are out there, they will eventually be found. The Raziq will never give up looking."
"And my father won’t let me give it up, either." I sighed again and walked unsteadily across the room to scoop up the scattered jewelry and photo disks. "He’s directed me back to the locker at the railway station. Apparently, he’s had further instructions left there."
"If he was here, why did he not simply tell you?"
"He claimed he was out of time," I said irritably.