Page 36 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

I’d felt its first flicker in that marketplace the day I’d found her. It had grown, wild and unrelenting, with every breath she took near me. Every word. Every look.

Want.

Need.

Desire.

Swallowing was suddenly impossible, the simple movement choked by the storm rising inside me.

“I really need to clean these,” she murmured, her breath warm against my chest as she leaned closer. “You’re bleeding. And it’s because of me.”

Her voice—guilt-tinged and barely audible—snapped something inside me. I looked down at her, really looked at her.

Rain-drenched hair clinging to her cheeks. Worry bleeding from every line of her beautiful face. Those impossibly blue eyes filled with concern. With care.

For me.

And her hand—gods, her hand—resting over my heart like it belonged there. It all crashed together like colliding realms, too much to contain.

Everything I’d been holding back—the relief of finding her alive, the terror of seeing her in danger, the memory of her body crashing into mine, holding her tight, my wings exploding to protect her. To save her—all of it collided inside me in a single, unbearable breath.

As her rain-dampened scent filled my lungs with each breath, clouding what little reason I had left, suddenly words tumbled past my lips before I had even a chance to consider them.

Raw .

Unfiltered.

Torn from the deepest part of me.

“I’d bleed a thousand times for you,” I said, my voice low and rough with emotion I could no longer contain. “I’d tear the realms apart. I’d face the Veil Lords themselves. I’d do anything to keep you safe, Soraya.”

Her eyes widened, perfect pink lips parting in surprise. Her hand stilled against my chest, my pulse hammering beneath her fingertips, the air between us charged with something that had been building since the moment we met.

A breath. A beat. The world held still.

Then she moved, surging upward, her lips meeting mine with unexpected ferocity.

There was no hesitation, no pause—just the wild, reckless press of her lips to mine. And I—I froze, too stunned to respond.

She was kissing me. Soraya—bright, beautiful, impossible Soraya—was kissing me. Death itself. The monster sent to erase her from existence. And instead of running, instead of fearing me, she had pressed her soft lips to mine.

Her lips brushed against mine. Wanting. Tender. Searching for my answer.

For one heartbeat. Two. Three.

Then something inside me broke free, and answer her I did.

I grabbed her like a dying man clutching salvation, crushing her against me as I answered her kiss with everything I’d locked away. My mouth moved against hers—hungry, desperate, unrelenting. Her soft gasp fed the fire that had been smoldering for too long, and I burned with it.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer as if she could anchor us both to this impossible moment. Her lips parted for me, and I took the invitation without mercy, tasting her like a starving man. Rain. Sweetness. Life .

I was drowning in her—in her scent, in her warmth, in the small sounds she made as I claimed her mouth with a possessiveness that should have frightened her.

Instead, she met my ferocity with her own, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me to her as if afraid I might vanish like the shadows I commanded.

In that moment, nothing else existed. Not the Veil Lords. Not her murder. Not the centuries of emptiness that had preceded this moment. There was only Soraya—soft and warm in my arms—and the fire she had ignited in my cold, dead heart.

Eight centuries of control shattered in an instant. The wall I’d built, stone by meticulous stone, to keep myself separate—from feeling, from caring, from the dangerous pull of connection—collapsed into dust. In its place, a truth I could no longer deny surged forth, unstoppable as the tide.

She had reached through shadow and death to find the man I’d been before—the man I’d forgotten existed.

A man whose heart beat now for her.

Only her.

My lips moved against hers. Desperate. Hungry. I kissed her with the raw need of a man denied life’s pleasures for far longer than any soul should endure.

I should’ve stopped.

Gods, I should’ve stopped.

She was a soul. A fleeting spark. A storm passing through.

She wasn’t mine. Could never be mine.

But right now, in this breath, in this kiss—I didn’t care.

I’d deal with the regrets later.

The crack of a branch snapped me back to reality. I reacted instinctively, pulling her tighter against me, my body coiled to fight whatever threat approached. The protective instinct that had summoned my wings earlier surged through me again, though this time they remained dormant .

A deer burst through the undergrowth, its eyes wide with terror as it bolted past our hiding spot. The hunting party, I realized. They were still pursuing their quarry.

As quickly as it had come, the moment shattered. Soraya pulled back slightly, her chest heaving, her lips swollen from my kiss, her eyes dazed. The rain had slowed to a gentle patter, the storm moving on as swiftly as it had arrived.

We stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to speak, to acknowledge what had just happened between us. What it might mean. What impossible future it hinted at.

Before either of us could break the silence, voices called through the trees.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

“I thought I saw something move over here!”

Reluctantly, I released her, though everything in me protested the separation. We emerged from beneath our shelter just as a group of hunters broke through the trees.

“My lord! My lady!” One of them exclaimed, then his eyes fell on the massive corpse of the Voltmauler. “By the storm! Is that...?”

“A Voltmauler,” I confirmed, straightening to my full height despite the pain from my wounds. “It attacked Lady Soraya when her mount bolted.”

“Gods above,” another hunter breathed, edging closer to the beast. “I haven’t seen one this far down from the high peaks in decades. They never come this close to the city.”

The rest of the hunting party arrived, Prince Alaric at the lead. His eyes widened as he took in the scene—Soraya disheveled and mud-splattered, me shirtless and bleeding, and the massive predator dead at our feet.

“Lord Rhyker! Lady Soraya!” Alaric pushed through the gathering crowd. “Are you injured? What happened? ”

Before I could respond, one of the hunters—an older man with gray streaking his beard—knelt beside the Voltmauler’s corpse.

“You killed this? Alone? With nothing but a hunting knife?” He looked up at me with newfound respect. “That’s... that’s impossible. These beasts have been known to take down entire hunting parties.”

Lord Destan rode up, his wide eyes finding the Voltmauler and then me. I swore I saw a flicker of defeat in them.

Good.

I shrugged, uncomfortably aware of the attention now focused on me. “I did what was necessary.”

“What was necessary?” Alaric repeated, incredulous. “You slew a beast that has claimed the lives of some of our finest warriors! This is grounds for celebration, not modesty!”

The prince turned, gesturing to his companions.

“Send riders ahead! Tell them to prepare the great hall. Tonight we feast in honor of Lord Rhyker’s bravery!

” He clapped me on the shoulder, oblivious to my wince as he aggravated one of my wounds.

“Come! The storm has passed, and great deeds deserve recognition!”

I glanced at Soraya, finding her already looking at me. Something passed between us—an unspoken acknowledgment of what had happened, what had changed.

We stood there for a moment, the two us staring. Confused. Bewildered.

She’d kissed me.

And I’d kissed her back.

“Someone retrieve Lady Soraya’s mount,” Alaric commanded. “We return to Thunderspire at once!”

As the hunting party bustled around us, preparing to transport both us and my kill back to the city, Soraya caught my gaze .

I looked down at her—this impossible, beautiful soul who had somehow penetrated every defense I’d built over centuries—and felt twin currents of desire and dread churning within me.

Though I couldn’t bring myself to feel regret for that one beautiful moment we’d shared, I knew in the deepest part of whatever soul I had left that I’d crossed a line that should never have been crossed.

She wasn’t mine to take. She wasn’t mine to want.

She was a soul seeking her door, her peace, her escape from this realm—and from me.

And yet, her blue eyes held a promise that tightened my chest with equal parts longing and grief.

The taste of her lingered on my lips, the memory of her body pressed against mine burned into my skin like a brand.

For one perfect moment, I’d forgotten what I was. What she was. What waited for us both.

But reality couldn’t be outrun. Not even by Death.

She would find her door. She would leave. And I would return to the shadows, eight hundred years of solitude stretching into eight hundred more. Only now, I would know exactly what I was missing.

No. This couldn’t happen again. I wouldn’t let it, no matter how fiercely my newly awakened heart protested.

This moment of weakness—of impossible joy—had to remain just that.

A moment.

But even as I made this vow, I knew with sickening certainty that I would break it the next time she looked at me with those eyes. The next time she stood close enough for me to breathe her in. The next time her hand brushed against mine.

Because for the first time in eight hundred years, I felt truly alive.

And that was more dangerous than any Voltmauler could ever be.