With Just Cause Read Online Free PDF

you, then. Even if
I don’t know your name.”
    “It’s Grimm.”
    “Grimm?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What’s your last name? Reaper?”
    “No. Bradley. Why?”
    Deandra regarded him for a few moments. He
wasn’t kidding. He looked serious. He sent a glance down to her,
stopped her heart and her breathing, and then looked back out at
wherever he was moving. He didn’t even crack a smile. Okay. So he
didn’t have a sense of humor. Or if he did, it was dry. Fine by
her. He was the handsomest thing she’d ever seen, had a physique
that she was going to love exploring, and he wasn’t just
law-abiding. He upheld the law. It could be worse. A lot worse.
Starting with - she could be back at the hacienda with Edna and the
others.
    Deandra closed her eyes. It felt like they
started moving even more rapidly. She’d have checked but her
eyelids felt leaden. Her senses fine-tuned to his embrace. His
scent. The sound of his heart pounding.
    ...or was it hers?
    She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. Grimm
Bradley. Mrs. Grimm Bradley. Marshal and Missus Grimm Bradley.
Deandra giggled to herself. She hadn’t had these sorts of thoughts
since she was little. This was insane. And it was sure nice. She
tightened her eyes and hugged into him.
    o0o
    He had his mate. Of all the impossible,
improbable, and unbelievable events, it was still true. His
mate
! Her. The being fated for him for all eternity. No
wonder he shook.
    He had her. Now. Right now. In his arms!
Sweetly curving into him. Every bit of her. Flesh and blood and
sinew, and muscle. Sweet heaven! It wasn’t possible. She was almost
too perfect. Totally feminine, and pleasingly curved. Eye-catching.
No. She was beyond that. His mate was beauty personified. Large,
wide eyes of some light hue... maybe gray? Perfect facial features.
Long dark hair she wore in a pony-tail. She was tall but not overly
so. Probably fit beneath his chin. And she was womanly. Soft and
round where she should be. Whittled in at the waist without use of
any foundation he could feel. All of it solid. Tangible. Real.
Heart pounding real.
    Heart pounding...
    As if he still had one.
    His mate’s pulse was a drumbeat in his ears,
filling his chest cavity with the thrum. The same cadence. As if it
forced his dead heart to life and then dragged it to an exact
rhythm. That wasn’t the strangest part, either.
    He’d been cold. Chilled and lifeless and
dead. A corpse. For nigh a century and a half now. And yet the
moment he’d sensed her presence standing in that window, the
opposite sensation had started somewhere deep within him. Warmth
had sparked to life, radiating through him until he’d actually shed
his jacket somewhere back there - in the courtyard of that
hacienda. Him? Grimm Bradley? The man who should even now be
resting beneath the tombstone in The Bradley Ranch’s little
cemetery? Under the briefest of age-worn epithets? The one that
simply said: R.I.P. 1873?
    It wasn’t possible.
    He’d lost his purpose. His mission. His
anger. His wits. He hadn’t said anything to her then because his
mind didn’t cooperate with forming words. His lips wouldn’t have
mouthed them if he’d tried because his vocal cords hadn’t felt like
they belonged to him, either. Everything on him felt strange.
Electrified. Alert. Like it was getting reanimated. Despite the
impossibility. Somehow. Through some power.
    Grimm hadn’t anything to compare it to. He
still didn’t. And every time he thought of what was happening, he
couldn’t contain the instant tremor that ran his frame, making him
clench her tighter. Nearer. Holding her closer to where his heart
actually felt like it was pounding with fluid that required a
pulse. It wasn’t possible.
    And yet...
    His flight overshot the cemetery, and then
the gatepost announcing the Bradley Homestead. He’d almost reached
the entrance to his lair before stopping. Dropping. Flexing his
legs for the move, and actually feeling the muscles respond. And
then more. His eyes