“Don’t even think this means I’m taking off my sweater,” I said.

He chuckled and lay next to me. The bed dipped minutely under his weight, and he exhaled loudly when he finally managed to settle in. I turned toward him. He lay on his back with an arm thrown over his forehead, the position both charming and sexy at the same time. His profile was that of a Greek god. Perfect dimensions. Exquisite lines.

“This bed is really hard,” I said, boxing my pillow and wiggling for a more comfortable position, which was not easy with Margaret hogging the bed.

“You should straddle me. I’m harder.”

My eyes flew open and I almost looked before I caught myself. I would not be baited. And he was injured, for heaven’s sake. “So, next question. Why do you call me Dutch?”

He grinned from under his arm. “I don’t.”

I frowned at him, not that it did any good. “You call me Dutch all the time. You’ve always called me Dutch.”

“You know, for someone who knows every language ever spoken on the planet, you’re not very good at siphoning meaning when you need to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it.”

“Fine.” I thought about it. I rolled the word over in my mind and on my tongue until his meaning became clear. I gazed at him in astonishment. “Seeker. You’re saying ‘seeker’ in ancient Aramaic.” The word only sounded like Dutch because I’d always associated it as so. It actually had more of a ts sound than a ch, and the u was smoother, more drawn out.

“Bravo.”

“You’ve been calling me ‘seeker’ all this time?”

“It is what you are. The seeker of souls.”

“Wow.” For some reason, that knowledge made me happy inside. Like a mocha latte would have if I could’ve afforded one. I was learning so much, I didn’t want it to end. And him being too injured to storm off in his manly way and go on a quest to slay the Englishman was awesome. More time with moi.

“I like that,” I said.

“Your elders chose well from within your race.”

I smiled. Then blinked. Then frowned. “My race? I have a race?”

“Of course.”

“So, wait. For real? Do I have a family like you? One from another plane?”

“Yes.”

My head snapped up. I hardly expected a straight answer, much less an affirmation. “Really? I have another family?”

“Yes.”

This was boggling. I didn’t know what to think.

“I don’t know that much about them, so don’t strain too much.”

“Are they … are they grim reapers?”

“Only the one who is chosen to cross onto this plane is a seeker. You come from a race of very powerful light bearers. They would never have sent you normally. A seeker of your … standing isn’t sent to do such menial tasks. But you were the youngest and the most powerful among them, and they knew I was here.”

It was one thing to go my entire life not knowing anything about why I had the gifts I had. It was another altogether to get so many answers—answers I’d been begging for my whole life—all in one huge gulp. And for Reyes to talk about it so casually, so nonchalantly, like it didn’t mean the world to me to know about my heritage. I tried to remain calm. I could handle this with grace and dignity. Not as I wanted to, like those women on The Price Is Right.

Then his meaning sank in. “Wait, are you saying I was chosen because of you?”

His lids were closed behind his arm. “If I had to guess, I’d say they felt I was here to start the war. My father created me to help him bring about the end of humanity. So they sent you.” He turned to me, the green and gold flecks in his eyes sparkling brightly against their rich brown background. “We are enemies, Dutch. A princess and a pawn, each from opposing sides.” One corner of his sensual mouth lifted. “They would be quite disappointed knowing how we’ve gotten along.”

I leaned up and looked down at him. “So, what? I’m supposed to kill you or something?”

He ran a fingertip over my mouth. “Yes. It is why you were sent.”

“Well, that sucks.” So, there’s a guy hotter than a Rolex from Sal’s Pawnshop living on Earth, and they send me to kill him? Me? Clearly I came from a race of crazy people.

“You could do it,” he said, his mouth thinning in regret. “You could kill me. Destroy the opposing portal and cut off my father’s doorway to this plane. The last reaper tried.” He averted his gaze. “He failed, so they sent you.”

“Reyes, that’s ridiculous. I couldn’t just kill you. You’re way stronger than I am, and … and you know how to fight and crap.”

Offering me an unconvinced grin, he said, “When the time comes, and it will come, do it quick. Don’t hesitate, Dutch. Not even for a split second.”

I had no idea how much of his story to believe. He was from a race of liars. How reliable could his intel be?

I frowned in suspicion. “Don’t think that you can win me over by being all noble and charming and insisting I’m powerful enough to kill you. You pushed me,” I said, reminding him of the fight the other night. “And you dragged me and shoved me, so don’t think that just because you’re all sweet now and self-sacrificing, I’ll forget that shit.” I plopped back onto my pillow and crossed my arms. “That’s just not shit you forget.”