Page 14 of Guarded By the Reaper

Millie shifted in her sleep, snuggling closer, her head finding the crook of my neck. A soft sigh escaped her lips, a sound so innocent and fundamentally alive that it sent a shiver through me. Her closeness stirred things inside me. Ghost sensations, echoes of a life long gone. The phantom thrum of a heartbeat in my chest. A warmth spreading through my limbs, pooling low in my belly.

She did this to me - pulled at the tattered edges of my humanity, reminding me of things I’d long since buried and forgotten.

I took a slow, measured breath, even though I didn’t need to breathe. Not anymore. My lungs were ghosts, just like the rest of me. It was only a learned behavior I couldn’t get rid of. When I inhaled, I could smell her – lavender and something faintly sweet, like honeysuckle on a summer night. It was intoxicating. Terrifying.

She was an enigma, and for some reason, I wanted to solve her. To unravel the secrets she held inside, to lose myself in the depths of her blue eyes. A low growl rumbled in my chest, a sound that was both a warning and a plea. This was dangerous. Stupid. Camellia Aster was my client, my responsibility. I had no business feeling anything for her.

But as I looked down at her, at the way her dark hair fanned out across my arm like a silken wave, the way her lips curved into a small, peaceful smile, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, some lines were meant to be crossed. Of course, this could all go to hell in an instant. But for now…

For now, I let myself imagine.

I remembered my human life as a series of unfortunate events. It had been a wretched, constant struggle. My parents were dirt poor, and I had to quit school at fifteen to work at a coal mine with my old man. Then the war came. They called it the Great War, the war to end all wars. They lied. It was hell on earth, and I was in the middle of it, fighting for a country that forgot about me the moment I returned, my lungs burned by mustard gas, my skin blistered and scarred. I couldn’t pay rent for long, and ended up roaming the streets, begging for scraps, sleeping in ditches, a forgotten soldier in a country that had moved on. Then I died. Alone, forgotten. Like a stray dog no one wanted.

Becoming a Grim Reaper wasn’t exactly what I’d call a dream job, but it was a job, nonetheless. A purpose. Someone had to do it – usher the souls of the departed to whatever awaited them on the other side. The problem was that the more souls I ushered, the more I saw of humanity – the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. All the love and loss, hope and despair wore me down, chipped away at my soul. I saw empires crumble, illness ravage the cities, wars that seemed to have no end. And through it all, humans, for all their flaws, kept stumbling on.

A depressing thought, really.

But Millie… She was different. There was a light in her, a spark of something rare and precious, a purity of spirit I hadn’t encountered in… Well, in a very long time. Even when she was afraid, even when nightmares clung to her, she radiated goodness. It was in the way she cared for her little sister, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her parents, the way she offered me tea and biscuits as if I were a normal guest and not a creature of dread in a black cloak.

It pissed me off, knowing what awaited her. Ma-Vasha – the soul-sucking parasite – was going to devour Millie’s essence,leaving behind… what? An empty shell? It made my bones ache – this helplessness. I was a Grim Reaper, for God’s sake! I’d faced down demons, argued with deities, and here I was, sitting on a goddamn sofa, watching this woman sleep and feeling…

Feeling what? Protective? Possessive?

It didn’t matter. She was doomed. And I was a hypocrite, a creature of death clinging to the fleeting warmth of a life that wasn’t mine to save.

Hours later, the light of dawn slipped through the curtains where they hadn’t been properly closed, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold. Millie stirred beside me, stretching like a cat waking from a nap, her spine arching, those long limbs moving with an effortless grace. It was all I could do not to stare.

“Oh,” she mumbled, blinking those beautiful eyes of hers, now clear and bright. She looked around, her gaze finally landing on me. A blush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate rose. “Grim?”

“Morning,” I grunted.

“I actually slept,” she said, surprised. “Can you believe it? No nightmares.”

“Good,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably next to her.

“I can’t believe you stayed up all night, watching over me,” she said, her gaze fixed on me. “You must be exhausted.”

“I don’t sleep,” I said. Grim Reapers didn’t sleep. Ever.

“Right,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Silly me. Forgetting you’re not… well, not exactly human.”

The words hung in the air between us. I wasn’t human. Not anymore. And every fiber of my being screamed at me to put distance between us before she saw too much, felt too much, before she realized what a monster I truly was.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re different, but sometimes I forget.”

She was leaning towards me now, her hand reaching out, hesitating before it landed on my chest, right where my heart would have been if I still had one. I should have moved away, but her touch was like a jolt of electricity shooting through my non-existent nerves. I sucked in a breath, even though I didn’t need it, and her scent once again filled my senses, making my head spin.

“Millie,” I murmured her name like a warning.

She didn’t seem to hear me. Her hand lingered, her thumb tracing a slow, unconscious circle on my chest, her touch searing through the layers of magic and shadow that held me together.

Beneath her touch, I felt too much. The phantom thrum of a heartbeat echoed in my chest, a warmth spread through my limbs, settling low in my stomach – a place where I hadn’t felt anything in a century. A dizzying, terrifying sense of want surged through me, leaving me reeling.

I jerked back as if burned, finally putting distance between us. The movement was so sudden, so violent, that Millie’s eyes widened in alarm.

“What...?” she started to say.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, didn’t trust myself not to reach for her, to pull her close and do something stupid. Something reckless.

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