Page 48 of Destined to the Reaper

I was flying high while he was destroying me, fucking me senseless with near savagery. His entire body seemed to glow from a magical halo. With every other thrust, his wings would spread as if he were fighting the urge to take flight. It would slightly lift me off the mattress only to slam me back down into the soft cushion as he rammed himself back in. I never got a chance to fully come back down before a third orgasm crashed into me.

My back arched, and my body seized. This time, Pharos roared as my inner walls clamped down on his cock. He slammed himself in deep, and threw his head back, wings spread wide as his seed shot into me. Nothing prepared me for the searing heat swirling with magic that flooded my battered insides.

It was nothing like our previous couplings where he’d shared a small part of his soul with me. And yet, the familiar tingling spread through my body. His soul wrapped around mine, soaring with me to endless heights. Lost in an ocean of bliss, it took me too long to realize he’d slowly resumed rocking in and out of me, his movement gentler until he was fully spent.

He collapsed on top of me. With his cock still buried deep, my inner walls contracting spasmodically with a will of their own around his length, Pharos turned us around. I rested my head on his chest, between the two halves of his exposed bones and listened to the thundering of his heart.

Utterly wrecked, I melted against him as he tightened his arms around me and closed his wings over us.

“You’re mine, my Kali. My bride. I’m never letting you go.”

After a couple more naughty rounds, Pharos and I finally surrendered to oblivion. Despite sleeping like the dead, my mind didn’t rest at all. It was said that humans solved many of their problems during their sleep, and that definitely applied to me that night. I’d gone to sleep feeling like the weight of the world rested on my shoulders with impossible choices to make. But today, I felt at peace.

Things were only ever as complicated as we made them.

That morning, we got out of bed and took a shower together—which led to some more sexy times. To my surprise, upon returning to my room, the bed had been done and a beautiful dress was laid out on it for me with fresh underwear.

“What in the world…?” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. Myress did this. You will meet her shortly. Technically, she would be deemed my servant.”

“Technically?” I echoed.

He nodded and took my hand to lead me out of the room. I almost commented on the fact that he was still naked, but he seemed unfazed by it.

“I consider her more as a helper, but she insists on calling me Master.”

We stepped into a large hallway of pale stone and majestic columns. It felt as if we had traveled back in time and entered an ancient Roman temple to some deity. We crossed into a large room a few meters from mine. I realized then that it was his own room. A part of me was glad that he hadn’t simply assumed I would share his bed, but another felt a little stung that he hadn’t shown more possessiveness, even though it would have been a bit disrespectful.

But then, I never claimed that all my feelings were logical or rational.

Just like my room, his was massive, with huge windows and patio doors leading to a private balcony. The scarcity of furniture inside surprised me. It didn’t look empty, just restrained, peaceful, and unencumbered. Considering the black hood, skirted belt, and somber leather pants and boots he had previously worn, I expected his personal space to reflect that edgier style, with sharp angles and an overall dark color scheme.

But the same lighter palette welcomed me. Soft, pastel colors in the earthier tones made the room warm and inviting. Above all, it screamed peace and serenity. My gaze lingered on the head of the massive bed propped against the back wall. It was carved either in stone or a very pale wood and represented a stylized sculpture of angel wings. Gold, burnished orange, and dark green pillows provided the right splash of color against the beige bedding. A Roman chaise lounge framed the fancy sitting area with a large fireplace and a shaggy white carpet in front.

“Myress is a Cambion,” Pharos continued while opening the door to a massive walk-in closet.

Seeing the number of togas, skirts, and pants hanging from poles on the right wall took me aback. The vast majority of them were white or a very pale shade of cream or pastel. Once again, for the oddest reason I had expected to see mostly the same type of leather pants and dark clothes as what had been on his body on that altar.

The left wall had skirted belts, pauldrons, and bracers. On the back wall, a variety of boots, shoes, and sandals were artfully arranged on shoe racks. They framed a central display clearly meant to hold one main weapon. I instinctively knew this was where his scythe would have been.

My chest constricted at the reminder of the challenge that awaited us.

He picked up one of the toga skirts and put it on—no underwear.

“Myress looks too inhuman to live amongst your people, but her demonic powers are too weak to live with her kin in this realm,” Pharos said while reaching for a pair of sandals that laced around the ankles. “She was shunned and bullied, which forced her to flee. I found her weak and starving in a nearby forest during a leisure flight. I took her in, and she has served me ever since.”

“An Angel of Death with a half-demon servant. It sounds like an unexpected pairing,” I said teasingly.

He chuckled. “Nothing is too weird or impossible here in the Shadow Realms,” he said indulgently before taking my hand and leading me out of the room.

“The Shadow Realms? Is that where we are?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

Based on the lore, the Shadow Realms was the other side of the Veil, the parallel universe to the mortal plane.

Pharos nodded. “We are more specifically in the Nephilim Valley.”

“Nephilim?” I repeated, stunned. “I would have expected them to be part of the Elysium, or Heaven.”

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