Page 61 of Destined to the Reaper

“P-plea-please,” Cornelius sputtered between two screams.

Alderan uttered an incantation that had my skin erupting in goosebumps. A series of glowing runes appeared, forming a half-circle on the ground around Cornelius’s feet, and another half-circle on the wall surrounding him. It was the type of ward that only a fool would try to break or lift. Anyone in their right mind would stay away from this accursed place.

Then, as one, the three powerful beings turned towards Pharos. My back immediately tensed. It made no sense as he had won his battle, and they were clearly here exacting revenge on his behalf. And yet, I felt tiny and insanely vulnerable in the presence of these god-like beings.

“My son,” Azrael said as he placed both hands on Pharos’s shoulders. “It pleases me to no end that you prevailed this day. Forgive me for stealing your righteous kill, but I couldn’t allow him to enjoy the quick escape of death. He has caused too much wrong and must answer for it.”

“I cannot begrudge you this outcome, Father. It couldn’t be more fitting for all the crimes he has committed using me.”

Azrael smiled, a world of affection illuminating his handsome features as he gazed lovingly at his son. I moved aside when he drew him into his arms. Pharos initially resisted my attempt to move away but caved in to return his embrace. It was mind boggling to see my man looking so small in comparison to his giant father, which only made me feel even tinier. My chest constricted with happy emotions when Pharos flattened his wings against his back allowing his father to wrap his own massive alabaster wings around him. A white halo glowed brightly around them, screaming of the divine nature.

After a moment, Azrael released his son and pressed his lips to his forehead before turning to look at me. I instantly straightened, back stiff, and eyes wide. I had not prepared for this. How was one supposed to react to one of the highest-ranking Angels?

“Thank you, Daughter, for freeing my Pharos,” he said gently.

My toes curled, and my chest warmed as goosebumps erupted all over my body. Despite his beauty and mesmerizing voice, there was nothing sexual in my reaction to him. But the depth of kindness and holy love from him made me feel like the light of God himself was shining over me.

“You truly have a beautiful soul, as strong and kind as your heart. A fitting mate for my son. I can see that he has already enhanced you. But as his bride, and now my Daughter, you need more. I will not have you depend on his presence to keep you safe. Will you accept my gift?”

I gaped at him, stunned and robbed of words. Pharos slipping a protective arm around my waist snapped me out of my befuddled daze. I glanced at him to find him staring at his father with endless gratitude. Likely feeling my gaze on him, my man turned his eyes towards me. Reading the unspoken question on my face, he nodded with an encouraging smile.

I returned my attention to his father and gave him a timid nod. He smiled, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before he raised his palm to my chest. My breath caught in my throat when he placed it against my solar plexus. An intense—but comfortable—heat emanated from his hand. It seeped deep inside me. To my pleasant surprise, he didn’t use his claws to sink them into me as he had done with the necromancer. Instead, his palm seemed illuminated from the inside, the intensity of the luminosity growing steadily as the same wondrous warmth spread through every cell of my body. I almost felt as if I was levitating. My skin tingled, the heat gradually dampening as he pulled his hand away from me.

I almost grabbed it to press it to my chest again, feeling oddly bereft.

“From this day forth, Kali, disease, poison, or any physical wounds shall never have hold over you,” Azrael said gently.

I pressed my palm to my chest, realizing he had effectively made me immortal. While Pharos’s gift of regeneration had previously allowed me to actively heal my wounds or expel poison, his father had made it so my body would passively manage it all on my behalf. With my soul in my man’s safekeeping, nothing would ever succeed in killing me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my throat constricted by emotion.

He smiled, softly caressed my cheek then took a couple of steps back. Pharos gave his father a grateful smile. He appeared intent on saying something, but Alderan approaching us silenced him.

In the back, Cornelius continued to scream and moan. However, it suddenly seeped into my mind how dimmed the sound was, almost like background noise. I suspected one of them had used their incredible powers to quiet him down. But the Demon Prince stopping right in front of me chased all thought of the necromancer out of my mind.

I had to tilt my head all the way back to be able to look at that beast of a male standing in front of me. Where Azrael had made me feel like I was wrapped in a thick blanket of endless love and protection, Alderan felt like a stirring volcano ready to erupt. But instead of lava, it was lightning, and an overload of energy that seemed ready to burst out of him at any moment. Oddly, it didn’t frighten me. It made me restless and whipped my blood into a type of pre-battle frenzy.

It felt both dangerous and exciting.

“Little Kali,” Alderan said in a purring voice that would have had me running for the hills under different circumstances.

He sounded like a predator about to make mincemeat out of some prey who had foolishly ventured into his domain. Even as he spoke, the rounded bone spikes at the tip of each shoulder extruded into sharp shards. He snapped them off and held them like a pair of daggers. My breath caught in my throat as I remembered how he had used similar bone shards from his forearms to crucify Cornelius against the wall.

“You are not my daughter. But thanks to you, I have finally been able to avenge my Asheron. For this, I would grant you a boon. Will you accept it?”

I swallowed hard and glanced once more at Pharos. To my dismay, he didn’t seem to notice as he was too busy staring with great intensity at the Bone Demon Lord. My eyes flicked towards the Weaver. She didn’t speak a word, but the ‘What the fuck are you waiting for?’ look she gave me followed by an almost imperceptible ‘go ahead’ gesture with her head whipped me into responding.

“Yes, my Lord. I would be honored for your boon, though none is required,” I said in a submissive tone.

Pharos’s hold around my waist tightened in a reassuring fashion. I took a sharp breath when Alderan pressed the sharp tips of his bone shards right in the soft tissue behind theclavicle but in front of my trapezius muscles. The initial sting should have been followed by an intense stabbing pain. But the regeneration warmth I’d experienced since bonding with Pharos grew a thousandfold.

As suspected, Azrael’s gift kicked in on its own, without requiring me to push the regeneration spark into the wounded area. The puncture locations tingled, and a cool sensation surrounded the area. It didn’t stop me from feeling the bone shards sinking into my flesh, but it numbed what should have been debilitating discomfort. Pharos moved to stand behind me and wrapped both arms around my midsection. I closed my hands around his wrists, clinging to them as tension continued to rage within me, and pressed my back against his broad chest for further support.

I wished Alderan had told me what the ‘gift’ was prior to me accepting it. But when dealing with Gods, demigods, and Ancients, several unspoken rules needed to be followed. Here, these gifts were both a reward and a test. Did I trust them enough to take an engagement without having a clear contract and understanding first?

In the arcane world, you never entered into an agreement without a clear pledge from both sides. This was one of the rare exceptions. Under different circumstances, I would have told him to keep his gift rather than risk potential foul play. But this was Pharos’s family, his parents, and the father of his half-brother.

I gasped when something suddenly shifted inside of me. My bones began to morph. Panic almost took over me as horrible images of skeletal abominations began to flash before my mind’s eye. Had he cursed me or…

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