Page 23 of Reaper's Pack

He said my name.

I stilled. Death always set my heart on fire, sure, but that flame paled in comparison to the inferno that erupted when Gunnar said my name.

“You’re right,” he said, his hushed voice barely rising over the music. When I glanced over my shoulder, I found his hands pressed together and steepled fingers to his lips. Gunnar’s head bobbed ever so slightly to the music, that dark blue gaze still completely trained on the record player as he added, “It really does sound better.”

Grinning, I left without a word, inconsequential the furthest thing from my mind at last.

9

Declan

“Are you ready?”

“Absolutely.” I’d never been so ready for anything in my whole life. Every inch of me hummed with a quivering energy that made me antsy, maybe even a little distracted. After all, it was an honor to be the first of my pack chosen for some solo training outside of the ward. Standing next to Hazel at the far reaches of the property, magic shimmering before us, moonlight slanting through the trees all around us, every damn emotion struck me—all of them fleeting, one not overpowering the other. Fear. Excitement. Anxiety. Dread. Elation.

One month ago, we had arrived in crates. The last time anyone had ever put their hands on me in anger, with malice in their eyes and cruelty in their hearts, had been thirty long days ago, and under Hazel’s care, I felt like a completely different hellhound. I moved with a new confidence, never cowering, never whimpering, never hiding behind Knox as I’d done from the moment I first joined this pack. Our routine gave all of us structure, a sense of purpose. The others still refused to bow to our reaper’s commands, but they went through the motions during the day with Gunnar sniffing around the ward at night, searching for an out.

Yet shortly I would be out. Hazel, dressed in a flowing black robe, her hair free and dancing beneath an unseen hand as we stood on the celestial plane, had chosen me. Before Knox. Before Gunnar. I would be the first to reap, a thought that both deeply thrilled and greatly worried me.

Because what if I came back tonight and the others despised me. They had congratulated me halfheartedly when she’d shared the news over this morning’s breakfast, but what if jealousy had sunk its ugly claws in deeper and deeper as the day went on?

What if they kicked me out afterward, attacked me just like every other hellhound?

Beyond all that, what if I failed her?

What if I couldn’t reap?

What if I lost a soul?

Her cool hand found my forearm, startling me from all those intrusive, pesky thoughts. She squeezed, smiling warmly up, and the thoughts evaporated, leaving a strange but welcome calm in their absence.

“One soul tonight,” she told me, her skim luminescent under the moon’s glow, her eyes more gold than brown. “We’ll collect her, take her to Purgatory, and see that she walks through the gates. That’s it.”

“Simple,” I said with a forced chuckle, my attempt to sound totally chill—as the humans say—a complete failure. Hazel gave my arm another squeeze, and when she released me, her touch lingered, my skin prickling where her fingers had once been, where her palm had pressed.

“You’re ready for this, Declan,” Hazel insisted, brows twitching up when our eyes met. “Trust me… You’re going to be great.”

No one had ever anticipated greatness from me before. They predicted miserable failure no matter what I tried, and as Hazel sliced a thin opening into the ward with her scythe, I struggled to accept her optimism.

“Come through,” she beckoned, stepping into the opening, crossing the ward as it billowed like curtains around her—curtains made of the strongest magic, a shimmering forcefield. Given the difference in our heights, I had to duck to pass through the tear she made in the protective boundary. The forest on the other side was much the same as it was in our territory: cedar trees and uneven earth and rocks and dirt and reaching roots. Hands in my pockets, I watched her reseal the ward; her scythe could destroy, but it could also mend.

The others feared it.

I respected it.

“Okay, so, take your clothes off and shift for me,” Hazel instructed, her tone—sweeter and gentler than usual—a welcome tonic for my nerves. Clearing my throat, I dragged my soft grey tee over my head and handed it off to her, trying not to focus on the fact that when she folded my clothes, her scent intermingled with mine, the combination heady, distracting. Trousers came next, leaving me naked in the early-morning shadows.

Hazel glanced down briefly, her gaze trailing across my body, then looked very far up, lush lips pressed together as she held out a hand expectantly for the rest of my clothing. Her cheeks colored like they always did at our nudity, and the same pleasurable thrill vibrated through me, my cock swelling somewhat with interest. The sensation would undoubtedly ripple through the pack bond, my feelings broadcasted to Knox and Gunnar no matter the distance.

Although I could have ogled her blushes for hours, I shifted as quickly as I could—for her sake, not necessarily mine. Down on four paws, I inhaled the forest, filling my lungs with cedar pine and cool, damp earth. Hazel set my clothes in a neat pile next to the ward, then crouched, not needing to bend all that much given my hellhound form stood nearly as tall as her.

“Come here, Declan,” she urged, scythe in one hand, the other outstretched toward me. I padded over without hesitation, my slowly wagging tail a dead giveaway for how she made me feel, whipping even harder when we touched.

Her scent dominated all others around me, made stronger when she ruffled her hand through my fur. Given this was the first time she had been physical with my hellhound form, it was a wonder I stayed standing. But I managed, stiff and enamored, allowing her to stroke my snout, trace my ears, scratch down my back. When she finished her slow, deliberate exploration, she stooped before me, our eyes locked, and smiled.

“Now, let’s collect this wayward soul, shall we?” She licked her lips, her smile blooming at my low whine of agreement. “Yeah… She deserves peace.”

The reaper drifted closer, her hand finding a place on my back again—and then the world went black.

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