Page 104 of The Reaper's Vow

The water sloshes as I shift closer to him. “The Reaper.”

“Yours,” he corrects, turning his face to press a kiss against my palm. “First and always, yours.”

The simple declaration makes something bloom in my chest, warm and certain despite everything we've been through tonight. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his.

“I vow to you, Karina, that I will always keep you safe. My life, my needs, my desires—they all come second to yours. Always.”

“Damien—”

“No,” he cuts me off gently. “You need to understand what this means. What you mean to me.” His hands frame my face, careful of my bruises. “Before you, I existed. I fought. I killed. But I never lived. You've given me something I didn't know I was missing.”

Tears blur my vision as his words sink deep into places I've kept guarded for so long. “I can't ask you to put me before everything else.”

“You're not asking. I'm choosing.” His thumb catches a tear as it falls. “My father sent me away to learn a lesson, but the real lesson came from you. Protection isn't about possession or control. It's about sacrifice. About putting someone else's needs before your own.”

I lean into his touch. “I don't want to be your weakness.”

A smile touches his lips—small but genuine. “You're not my weakness, kitten. You're my strength.” His forehead presses against mine again. “My reason to be better than what I used to be.”

The last few days have rewritten everything I thought I knew about love, about strength, about what it means to belong to someone completely.

“I need to tell you something.” The words slip out as I draw in a shaky breath, tilting my head toward him. “When that silence stretched between us, I realized I’d rather die than live in a world without you.”

His breath catches. “Karina...”

“I know it's crazy. We've known each other for less than a week. But this feeling, this certainty—it's the first real thing I'veever experienced. The first time I've felt like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.”

His hands tighten on my face, and I watch something flicker behind his eyes. “Say it again.”

“I'd rather die than live without you.”

“The other part.”

I smile despite the ache in my split lip. “I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.”

He kisses me then, soft and careful around my injuries, but with an intensity that makes my heart race. I taste his relief, his love, his absolute devotion. When he pulls back, his eyes are molten silver.

“I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt that truth,” he finishes.

The water has begun to cool around us, but I don't want to leave this moment. Don't want to face whatever comes next beyond this bathroom, beyond the safety of his arms. Here, with steam rising around us and his hands gentle on my skin, the world feels manageable again.

“The water's getting cold,” Damien observes, though he makes no move to rush me.

I nod reluctantly. My fingers have started to prune, and the warmth that felt so soothing minutes ago, now barely penetrates the chill settling into my bones. Exhaustion weighs on me like a physical thing, pressing down until even sitting upright feels like effort.

Damien helps me from the tub, wrapping me in a towel that's been warmed on the heated rack. The simple luxury of it—soft cotton that smells like cedar and safety—almost undoes me completely. I lean into him as he dries my hair with another towel, his movements careful around the tender spots on my scalp where Lockhart's fingers had twisted.

“Better?” he asks, and I realize some of the tension has finally started to leave my shoulders.

“Getting there.”

He guides me back into the bedroom before leaving me to head to his closet. He returns with one of his shirts and hands it to me. I slip it on, the fabric soft and oversized, hanging to my thighs like a dress. It carries his scent.

“You should lie down,” Damien nearly orders me as he pulls back the covers on his bed. “You need to rest.”

I hesitate, suddenly reluctant to be alone with my thoughts. “Where are you going?”

He tucks a strand of damp hair behind my ear, his touch so light it barely registers against my bruised skin. “To get you something to eat. You need to rebuild your strength after the shift.”