Page 35 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

The creature’s massive body lay at my feet, its blue-black fur still crackling with residual electricity. Even in death, the Voltmauler was fearsome—bone spikes jutting from its spine, claws like curved daggers, jaws that could crush a man’s skull with a single bite.

I stared at it, my mind struggling to process what had just happened.

My wings. They had manifested in this physical form—something that should have been impossible. The shadows that had been part of me for eight centuries had answered my call, erupting from my back when I needed them most.

When she needed them most.

I flexed my shoulders experimentally, trying to summon them again. Nothing. No familiar stirring beneath my skin, no whisper of shadow responding to my will. The power that had surged through me moments ago had receded, leaving only echoes of what I’d been able to do.

“Rhyker?”

I turned toward the sound of Soraya’s voice. She stood a few paces away, her blue dress torn and mud-splattered, her hair wild with leaves tangled in it. But it was her eyes that held me—wide with shock, disbelief, and something else I dared not name .

“Are you hurt?” I asked, suddenly aware of the blood seeping through my own tattered hunting jacket. Several gashes crossed my chest and arms where the Voltmauler’s claws had connected.

She shook her head, taking a hesitant step toward me. “I’m fine. Thanks to you. But are you hurt?”

“No,” I said automatically, even as a sharp pain lanced through my side.

Rain continued to pour down around us, though the worst of the storm had passed overhead. Water dripped from her eyelashes, trailed down her cheeks, soaked through her dress until it clung to every curve of her body. I forced myself to look away.

“You shouldn’t have run off,” I growled, the fear I’d felt when I’d realized she was missing transforming into anger. “I told you to stay put.”

“I didn’t run off ,” she protested, her own temper flaring in response.

“Silverstreak bolted when she sensed that thing. I was just going to the ridge to keep sight of—” She stopped herself, guilt flashing across her features.

“Okay, fine. I wandered. Like two hundred feet. But I was trying to keep track of—”

“That was not the plan,” I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. The image of her beneath that creature’s claws was still too fresh, too raw. “You could have been killed.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m already dead,” she fired back. “And I appreciate the concern, really, but I didn’t do anything wrong. My magical flying horse-bird panicked because it sensed a giant electric bear-badger thing that apparently wants to eat people! What the fuck even was that thing?”

Water streamed down her face, her cheeks flushed with indignation. Even drenched and furious, she was breathtaking—alive in a way I’d forgotten was possible.

“A Voltmauler. It harnesses electricity and can eject it through its paws, killing you instantly.” I glanced down at the rips in my shirt realizing how lucky I was I’d only felt a slight shock and not the full weight of its power.

“Holy shit. That’s... that’s terrifying.” She stared down at the dead corpse, her eyes flaring wide.

“Yes. It is terrifying and if you hadn’t run off then you wouldn’t have run into one.”

She pinched her lips. “I told you . I didn’t run off!”

I grumbled then let out a long rumbling sigh. “We need to get out of this rain,” I said, trying to quell the storm raging inside me that put to shame the one pounding down on us. “There’s shelter over there.”

I nodded toward a dense cluster of bushes grown over a natural rock overhang, just large enough to offer protection from the downpour. She followed without argument, and we crouched beneath the makeshift shelter, the space forcing us to press close together.

“How did you find me?” she asked after a moment, her voice softer now. “I was so far from where I left you.”

I had no ready answer. I’d been with Alaric’s hunting party when a chill had swept through me, a sensation so intense it had stopped me mid-sentence. I’d known, with bone-deep certainty, that Soraya was in danger.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just... sensed something was wrong. Like a pull toward you.” I frowned, considering. “Perhaps my soul locator is still working somehow. I’m still tuned in to your frequency.”

A small smile quirked her lips. “That’s kind of sweet you have like a Find My Soraya app installed in you. You know, in a kind of creepy, Reaper-y way.”

Despite everything, and despite having no idea what she was talking about, I felt a strange warmth spread through my chest at her obvious teasing .

“You’re bleeding,” she said suddenly, her gaze dropping to my torn jacket. “Let me look at those wounds.”

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically. Eight centuries as a reaper had removed any concern for my own wellbeing.

“No, you’re not.” She reached for my jacket, her determination clear. “I’m a nursing student, remember? And in case you’ve forgotten, we don’t know what happens if we get hurt too badly in this form.”

“Exactly.” I stared at her sternly. “Which is why you need to be more careful.”

“I didn’t run off. I wandered like—two hundred feet. Not even a full football field.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s—never mind.” She huffed and shoved a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re bleeding and you’re pissed because you were worried, and now you’re deflecting by yelling at me. Well, guess what. I’m done having this discussion. Keep your cranky ass comments about me running off to yourself.”

“I’m not... deflecting.” I stopped. My mouth flattened as I considered her words. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I’m deflecting a little because knowing you were in danger was... terrifying. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you.”

My shoulders tensed at my admission.

Her brows arched high, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face as those eyes probed deeper into mine. “Wait... what? You were terrified for me?”

Shit.

Too much. I’d said too much.

“No. Just... be more careful is all I meant. Don’t run off again.”

I hoped my short answer was enough to deflect her in a different way now. Seeing her in danger, thinking of her falling beneath that lethal creature, sent surges of pure terror through me unlike anything I’d ever felt. It did things to me, made me feel things for her I couldn’t, wouldn’t, name.

She’s your duty. Your responsibility. She is nothing more than a soul you need to help move on.

Her eyes stared into mine for a long moment, searching. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t press, wouldn’t dig into the little slip of my mouth letting her know just how much I felt for her now.

Thankfully, she didn’t, and instead, she lifted her chin. “I’m done arguing with you about whether I ran off or not. I didn’t. End of fight. Now let me look at those wounds.”

I started to protest again, but the stubborn set of her jaw told me resistance was futile. With a reluctant sigh, I began unfastening the buttons of my jacket, wincing as the fabric pulled away from places where blood had already begun to stick.

As I pulled the torn shirt off completely, Soraya’s eyes widened slightly. I watched her swallow hard as her gaze traveled across my bare chest, lingering on the defined muscles before focusing on the gashes left by the Voltmauler’s claws.

“These aren’t as deep as I feared, but they look painful,” she said, her voice suddenly professional as she leaned in to examine the wounds. “We need to clean them properly when we get back.”

“I’ve had worse,” I said dismissively, though in truth, I hadn’t felt physical pain in centuries. It was... unsettling.

“I don’t care if you once got stabbed by a hundred swords and walked it off,” she retorted. “Now that you’re in human form, you can get infections. Or bleed out. Or—”

“Almost die fighting a Voltmauler with my bare hands because the girl didn’t stay where the girl said she was going to stay?” I said dryly.

Her head snapped up, blue eyes narrowing dangerously. “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. ”

She shook her head, frustration evident in every line of her body. “Why do you have to be so—”

“Right?” I supplied.

“Impossible,” she finished. “You’re impossible. If you weren’t already dead, I would threaten to kill you, but alas, you’re eight hundred years dead and buried.”

Something about her exasperated expression cracked through my carefully maintained control. A sound escaped me—part snort, part chuckle—before I could stop it.

Soraya froze, her eyes growing comically wide. “Did you just... laugh?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, trying to restore my usual stoic demeanor.

“You did! Oh my god! Death laughs!” She grinned triumphantly, pointing at me with undisguised glee. “I made Death laugh! This is, like, a historic moment. We should mark it on a calendar or something.”

“Knock it off,” I growled, but traitorous amusement continued to bubble in my chest, and my lips twitched again despite my best efforts.

“I can’t believe it,” she continued, practically bouncing with excitement. “Centuries of swinging that scythe looking all kinds of grumpy and irritated, and all it takes is one dead girl to crack that badass exterior.”

This time I couldn’t contain the low chuckle that escaped me. Her enthusiasm was infectious, her delight in such a small thing both baffling and endearing.

The tension between us eased, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable.

She turned her attention back to my wounds, her touch careful as she examined the worst of the gashes.

I tried to ignore the sensation of her fingers against my bare skin—the first gentle touch I’d experienced in centuries .

Her fingers traced the edge of the largest wound just below my collarbone, and fire bloomed in their wake.

Not pain—something far more dangerous.