Page 19 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

I led her away from the main thoroughfare, down progressively narrower streets. The gleaming white facades gave way to weathered buildings with dingy stone and worn wood. The well-dressed fae were replaced by shadier characters who eyed us with varying degrees of suspicion and interest.

We turned down an alley barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and at the end, a rusted iron door stood half-hidden behind stacked crates.

“This doesn’t look very appealing,” Soraya muttered, staying close to my side.

I pushed the door open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down into darkness.

The smell that wafted up was a pungent mix of smoke, unwashed bodies, and things better left unidentified.

I’d been here countless times behind the Shadowveil and never experienced it with all my senses.

I now craved that barrier between us to mask the stench enveloping us wholly.

“The Dark Market,” I said simply.

Soraya wrinkled her nose. “Charming.”

I took her hand, guiding her down the slippery steps. “Stay close. Don’t speak unless necessary. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

She nodded, her earlier excitement replaced by a wariness that I found both appropriate and oddly disappointing. I’d grown accustomed to her wonder, her enthusiasm. This more subdued Soraya felt wrong somehow.

At the bottom of the stairs, the passage opened into a vast underground space—a warren of tunnels and chambers carved beneath the city over centuries. Flickering torches cast shifting shadows across walls stained with smoke and substances I didn’t care to identify.

The Dark Market spread before us in all its chaotic, dangerous glory.

Unlike the orderly stalls above, here the vendors were crammed together in a maze-like configuration.

The goods on display ranged from the merely illegal to the actively horrifying—weapons, poisons, stolen artifacts, substances that glowed with unnatural light.

Anything you wanted, no matter how illegal, was up for grabs in the Dark Market.

And the people were worse. Cutthroats. Thieves.

Mercenaries. Exiles from all five courts.

Court markers were rare here—those who frequented the Dark Market typically preferred anonymity.

But danger was written in the way they moved, in the weapons they carried openly, in the scars that marred faces and the cold calculation in their eyes.

Eyes that were noticing Soraya.

Of course they were. Even in Selyse’s simple forest-green dress, with her hair loose around her shoulders, she stood out like a beam of sunlight in a storm. Her skin was too flawless, her eyes too bright, her movements too full of innocent wonder despite her attempts to blend in.

And her breasts. That damn dress highlighted every curve of her round, soft breasts, pressed tightly together in a way that made me fight to force my eyes to remain above them.

But the rest of the Dark Market made no such attempt to hide their lusty gazes that raked every inch of her breasts and fit body.

Soraya seemed oblivious to the gawking, drooling men staring at her like a perfectly cooked steak. Like she was unaware of her own beauty.

A burly fae with ritual scars covering half his face watched her pass, his gaze crawling over her body with undisguised hunger.

My hand itched for my scythe, for the power to make him know true fear.

But even though I no longer had my powers as a Reaper, I knew I was far from powerless.

I placed myself between them, fixing him with a stare that promised violence should he move even an inch closer.

He backed down, but others wouldn’t. I could feel their eyes on us from all directions—curious, calculating, predatory.

A hulking Frost Court exile—easily identifiable by the snowflake tattoo inked in icy white across his neck—shoved through the crowd like he owned the place.

He slammed his shoulder into Soraya hard enough to knock her off balance.

She gasped, stumbling, but I caught her before she could fall, my arm locking around her waist.

Then the bastard turned, smirking.

“Careful, little girl,” he drawled, his pale eyes dragging over her like filth.

“Or on second thought, maybe don’t be careful.

You can ram into me over and over again anytime you want.

Or better yet, I’ll be the one ramming into you.

” With an exaggerated thrust of his hips, he licked his lips and laughed.

My blood turned to fire.

A sound rose from my throat—not a word, not a growl. A warning.

I stepped between them, my hand still around Soraya’s waist, shoving her behind me. Rage like I hadn’t felt in centuries wasn’t just rising—it was breaking loose. Something primal. Brutal. Ancient.

“Walk away,” I said low, lethal. “Now. ”

He laughed, oblivious to the monster clawing just beneath my surface begging to be freed. He took another step forward. We were nearly nose to nose, equal in height, but I saw no warrior in his stance. Only a fool who thought his size made him dangerous.

He didn’t know, even without my wings, even without my scythe, no one in the Dark Market was more dangerous than me.

“And if I don’t?” he sneered.

My eyes locked onto his, steady and sure, my voice deadly quiet. “If you don’t walk away now, you won’t walk away at all.”

His lips curled in a sinister smile. “She’s the one who won’t be walking when I’m done with her.”

Behind me, I heard her soft gasp. Felt her breath catch.

Cold fury built in my chest, transforming into rage burning like an inferno beneath my skin. And now I would show him that I was Death no matter what my form.

I moved without thought—without mercy.

One second, he was smirking. The next, he was airborne.

I slammed him into the nearest stone wall hard enough to crack it. Dust rained down as his head bounced off the rock, dazed, but I wasn’t done. I grabbed his shirt, hauled him forward, and drove my fist into his stomach like a battering ram. The thud was deep and hollow. His legs gave out.

I caught him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand.

“You speak to her again,” I hissed, “and I will carve the tongue from your mouth and feed it to the ravens. I know from experience, ravens enjoy the tongues I give them.”

His feet kicked uselessly, his face blooming in reds as he struggled for the breath I wouldn’t grant him.

One good squeeze and his life would be mine, an angry fae soul perhaps I could reap again when I returned to my form and found him haunting the Dark Market if the underworld didn’t suck him down first .

But I saw the onlookers gathering nearby. No strangers to violence, no one rushing to help, but murdering a man in the open would draw too much attention even in this forsaken place. I had a job, a mission, to help Soraya find her peace, and this man wouldn’t be the reason I failed her.

I leaned in. “I was Death long before I wore that title. And I don’t need a scythe to end you.”

Then, I dropped him like trash. He hit the ground gasping, writhing.

A kick to the ribs, then I placed my boot over his leg and stomped down with enough force to deliver on my promise.

There was a sickening crack.

He screamed.

Good.

He clutched his leg, sobbing and choking.

I crouched beside him, voice a whisper meant only for him.

“I told you that you wouldn’t walk away.” I leaned closer, my hand clamping around his jaw. “You’ll crawl.”

I turned back to Soraya. She was staring at me like she’d never seen me before—like something in me had shifted. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated despite the dim light of the market.

“Are you all right?” My voice came out rough, dark, still trembling with the beast I’d barely leashed. The violence still coursed through my veins, centuries of battlefield instincts awakened in this mortal form.

I reached for her, but she stepped back just out of my grasp. Those eyes, those ones filled with so much wonder now showed another emotion.

Fear.

My heart clenched that it was me who’d put that look in her eyes.

“I won’t hurt you,” I said softly, reaching for her again .

She looked at my hand, then slowly lifted her gaze to meet mine.

Gods. The way I wanted to protect her...

needed to protect her. I wasn’t sure if I would survive failing her if we couldn’t find her door and her beautiful soul was wiped from existence.

I had failed every other human and it had destroyed me.

Centuries spent in penance for my failure.

But now, as I stared at her, that protective desire swelling inside me again, a small part of me cursed myself for not reaping her right away.

Why had I paused? Why hadn’t I just ended her in a quick swipe of my scythe?

Because now I wasn’t sure I would ever recover should I fail yet one more human.

Fail her.

“Soraya. I swear I won’t hurt you,” I repeated. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, slowly. Her lips parted, her breaths quick and shallow. Those small, delicate hands of hers trembled as she clutched the fabric of her dress, her knuckles as white as her face. Finally, she exhaled the breath she was holding and that fear in her eyes softened as she looked at me.

“That was...” Her voice came out hushed, breathless, like she wasn’t entirely sure what she was feeling. “Holy shit.”

I stepped closer, compelled by something deeper than duty to keep her safe beside me. She didn’t recoil, though I half expected it after what she’d just witnessed me do. Instead, she looked up at me, my heart clenching as I stared into those eyes meeting mine with a potent blend of fear and awe.

The air between us thickened, crackling with something neither of us dared name. Her pulse fluttered visibly at the hollow of her throat, and her gaze dropped to my mouth, just for a second, before snapping back up.

“I... I... um,” she started, then after letting out a lengthy sigh, the tension seemed to slip from her shoulders and she looked at me, eyes searching mine, holding my gaze before whispering, “Thank you.”

Just two words, but they landed like a strike to the chest. Not just gratitude. Trust. And something else behind it. The way she looked at me... like she didn’t know whether to run from me or reach for me... it lit something dark and primal inside me. Something I hadn’t felt in centuries.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I said, my voice lower than before. A promise. A vow.

Her breath hitched, soft and sharp. Her lips parted like she might say something—but no words came.

But when she looked up at me like that—with awe, and maybe something dangerously close to desire—I knew:

If anyone ever touched her again, I wouldn’t stop at bones.

“We should go,” I said, my voice steadier now.

The encounter had drawn more attention than I liked. I could feel eyes on us from all directions—curious, calculating, predatory. I moved closer to Soraya, placing my hand at the small of her back to guide her through the crowd.

“We need to find this weapons trader,” I said. “Stay close to me.”

She didn’t argue this time, pressing herself closer to my side as we navigated the winding pathways of the Dark Market.

I was acutely aware of every point where our bodies connected—my hand at her back, her shoulder occasionally brushing against my chest, her hip bumping mine when fear made her press closer to me, her trust in my protection evident in every step.

And though I told myself it meant nothing—that it was merely practicality in a dangerous place—I couldn’t deny the satisfaction that flooded through me at her nearness, at the knowledge that she felt safe with Death himself at her side .

Each touch sent a jolt of sensation through me, heightened by this new physical form. After centuries of numbness, of isolation, the simple contact was almost overwhelming.

And deeply unsettling. Because with each brush of her body against mine, each glimpse of her face turned up toward me in trust, I felt something stirring deep within me. Something primal. Raw. Possessive.

Eight hundred years since I’d last inhabited a physical form. Eight centuries since I’d felt the pull of basic human desires. With every accidental touch, I felt my base desires, long forgotten, awakening inside me.

But I shoved them back down. These were base impulses, nothing more.

They would pass. They had to. I had a duty to this girl—to help her find her door, to protect her in this dangerous place.

I would not complicate that with urges far too dark for someone so pure.

The only thing that mattered was getting her to safety, helping her find peace.

I would not dishonor that purpose by giving in to the demands of a newly awakened body.

No matter how her scent clouded my thoughts when she stood too close.

No matter how the sound of her laughter sent heat flooding through my veins.

No matter how my hands ached to touch more than just her back, her arm, her face.

Another brush of her body against mine. Another surge of heat coursing through me. I clenched my fists, steadying my breathing as I pushed away the impure thoughts clouding my mind.

Even in this temporary mortal shell, she was a soul in my charge. A sweet, innocent soul who deserved better than to be tainted by the desires of a creature who had spent centuries bathed in shadow and vengeance.

I just needed to focus on our mission. Find the weapons trader. Get information about the dagger. Help her move on .

And ignore the way my body burned every time she looked at me with those trusting blue eyes.