Page 47 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

In the aftermath, we lay tangled together, breathless and panting.

My body still hummed with lingering pleasure, every nerve ending alive in a way I’d never experienced before.

The cool surface of the desk beneath me should have felt uncomfortable, but I was too consumed by the sensation of Rhyker’s weight against me, his heart thundering against his chest, his breath warm against my neck.

I’d never felt anything like that. I hadn’t known sex could be so consuming—so utterly undoing. Like something sacred and savage all at once, leaving me forever changed. Like being unraveled, thread by thread, then stitched back together with pieces of him woven into every inch of me.

My boyfriends back home had been nice, considerate, gentle. But this—what Rhyker and I had just shared—was something else entirely. Wild. Primal. A storm that had swept us both away.

A small, incredulous laugh escaped me as I stared up at the ornate ceiling. Had I really just had mind-blowing sex with an eight-hundred-year-old Reaper on the desk of my murderer? What even was my afterlife?

“What’s so amusing?” Rhyker asked, his voice still rough as he pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at me with those storm-gray eyes.

“Nothing,” I smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of dark hair from his forehead. “Just... I never would have done this when I was alive.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Regrets?”

“The opposite,” I said quickly. “Alive-Soraya was too cautious. Too afraid. I never tried out for sports teams or auditioned for the school play. I never asked for what I wanted. I just... existed. Waiting for life to happen to me.”

I traced the sharp line of his jaw with my fingertip, marveling that I could touch him like this.

“Then you came along. Death itself. And somehow I found the courage to demand what I want. To own my desires.” I shook my head, smiling.

“Turns out all I needed was to die to finally start living. I guess the threat of a Reaper popping out of the shadows at any moment to wipe you from existence or a door to God knows what opening up without warning... it changes your perspective. Makes you a little braver to seize the moment.” I smiled ruefully.

“And I’m so glad I did. That was amazing.

I’ll remember it in my afterlife no matter what awaits me. ”

Something darkened in his eyes at my words—a shadow passing across his face. He pulled away abruptly, standing and walking to his discarded clothing.

“We should get dressed,” he said, his tone suddenly businesslike. “Lord Cassius could return at any moment.”

The abrupt shift in his demeanor was like a splash of cold water. I sat up, gathering my dress around me, absurdly self-conscious now that the heat of passion had faded.

“Right,” I managed, my voice smaller than I intended. “Of course.”

We dressed in awkward silence. I struggled to tie my dress, part of me wanting to ask for his help but the other part sensing the distance he put between us. It seemed to grow with each passing second, a chasm opening where moments ago there had been nothing but heat and connection.

“Are... are we okay?” I finally asked, trying to claim my voice again.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said finally, his back to me as he slipped on his jacket.

Five words. Five simple words that somehow hurt more than the dagger that had ended my life.

I wanted to argue, to remind him of how perfect it had been, how right it had felt. But pride kept my mouth shut, and I simply nodded, though he couldn’t see it.

When he turned back to me, his expression was once again the cold, detached mask of the Reaper I’d first met. Gone was the man who had whispered my name like a prayer, who had touched me with reverence and desire.

“You should go back to our rooms,” he said. “I’ll handle Lord Cassius when he returns.”

That snapped me out of my hurt. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. “Soraya—”

“He killed me,” I said, the words sharp with renewed anger. “He killed my mother. I’m not going anywhere until I know why.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“Do I look like I’m playing?” I stepped closer, refusing to let him dismiss me.

I had been brave enough to beg Death himself to fuck me.

Now I felt brave enough to do just about anything.

“I died in my pajamas watching Netflix. I never got to finish nursing school, never got to travel, never got to get married and have a family. All because of him . So no, Rhyker, I’m not leaving. ”

We stared at each other, locked in silent battle. Finally, he looked away.

“Fine. But stay behind me. Do exactly as I say.”

“I will.”

He moved to the door, checking the hallway, then returned to where I stood. “We’ll hide until he returns,” he said, gesturing to the curtains where we’d hidden before.

Once again, we pressed together in the narrow space between heavy velvet and cold glass. But now, after what we’d shared, the proximity was excruciating. Every brush of his body against mine brought fresh memories of his hands on my skin, his mouth claiming mine, the way he’d moved inside me.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with things unsaid. He was so different now. If it weren’t for his ripped shirt and jacket’s missing buttons that were proof of our interlude, I may have thought I imagined the life-changing connection we’d shared.

I wanted to ask why he was pulling away, why he seemed to regret what had happened between us. But fear kept me quiet—fear that his answer would hurt more than his silence.

An hour passed, marked only by the distant sounds of celebration drifting up from the gardens below and the steady rhythm of Rhyker’s breathing beside me. Finally, as midnight approached, the door opened.

Lord Cassius entered alone, humming softly to himself as he moved about the chamber, unaware of our presence.

I felt Rhyker tense beside me, coiled energy radiating from him like heat. He caught my eye, his message clear: Stay here .

Before I could respond, he slipped out from our hiding place.

I peeked out from behind the curtain watching in awe as he moved with a predator’s silent grace.

Lord Cassius didn’t hear him approach, didn’t sense the danger until it was too late.

In one fluid motion, Rhyker grabbed him from behind, one hand clamping over his mouth, the other securing his arms.

“Make a sound and I slit your throat,” he growled, his voice barely audible. “I’m far faster than any scream. ”

Lord Cassius struggled briefly, then went still, recognizing the futility of resistance against Rhyker’s incredible strength. I emerged from behind the curtains, a strange sense of power filling me as I watched my murderer’s eyes widen in shock and confusion.

“Hello,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “Remember me?”

He stared at me, brow furrowed, clearly trying to see my face in the dim light.

“Lady Soraya?” he answered as Rhyker removed his hand from the man’s mouth. He glanced back and saw Rhyker for the first time. “Lord Rhyker? What the fuck is going on?”

“No, I’m not asking if you remember Lady Soraya ,” I said as I closed in on him. “I’m asking if you remember me.”

He searched my face, fear and confusion warring in his eyes.

“No?” I smiled without warmth. “Let me help. You broke into my home in the Mortal Realm. You stabbed me. Multiple times. Then you killed my mother. Ring any bells?”

Recognition flashed in his eyes, followed immediately by disbelief. “Impossible,” he muttered. “You’re dead.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Thanks to you. And yet, here I am.”

“How? How... are you here?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Rhyker growled. “You see, her soul ended up here in Faelora, and I was the Reaper sent to erase her. But now I’m the Reaper sent to rip the truth out of you.”

Lord Cassius looked between us, stunned. “You’re... a ghost?” He looked at me then his eyes moved to Rhyker. “And you’re... a... Reaper? But... I don’t... how?”

“How doesn’t matter. All that matters now is if you don’t answer my questions, the next person getting reaped is you.”

Rhyker forced him into a chair, using cord he’d torn from the curtains earlier to bind his wrists and ankles. Lord Cassius looked between us, calculation replacing his initial shock .

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm for a man tied to a chair by an enraged Reaper.

“The truth,” I said simply. “Why did you kill me? What did I ever do to you?”

He lifted his chin, stiffing his shoulders. “It wasn’t personal,” he said, eyes darting between us. “Just business.”

“Whose business?” I demanded.

“None of yours,” he snapped back.

Rhyker backhanded him—a lightning-fast movement that left blood trickling from the corner of Lord Cassius’s mouth. “Answer her question,” he snarled.

Something in his tone must have conveyed the depth of his rage, because Lord Cassius’s smug expression faltered.

“I’m a dead man if I tell you.”

“You’re a dead man if you don’t. Speak.”

Lord Cassius looked like he may finally give me the answers I needed, but then his eyes hardened, his sharp chin lifting. “No. I won’t talk.”

Rhyker stiffened, rising taller as he stared down the man. “Soraya. Go get me that fabric.”

He gestured to a pile of folded clothes on a chair. I didn’t ask for what, just hurried over to retrieve them with shaky hands. I carried back the pile, unsure what he wanted, and he pulled a sock from it, wadded it up and then shoved it into Cassius’s mouth.

What followed wasn’t the chaotic interrogation I’d expected from spy movies. It was... precise. Efficient. Calculating.

Rhyker didn’t yell. He didn’t posture. He asked questions in a voice so calm it made my skin crawl, his tone more suited to a dinner party than a torture chamber. And when Cassius didn’t answer? He simply... corrected him.