Page 4 of Stolen By the Reaper

But I couldn’t. The scent called me to heel as surely as any soul set to be reaped. I inhaled again, letting my nose guide me straight to the source.

The pale column of her throat.

I crowded her against the wall, my body pressing into hers. My fingers skimmed against the back of her neck, tilting her head to the side. Her pulse rabbited, blood coursing through her veins. Calling to me.

“It’s you,” I murmured, reveling in that fucking delicious scent.

Mountain mists and lavender flooded my senses. Every breath had my cock hardening. Blood rushed to fill my length, my gums aching as my fangs threatened to descend.

The woman screamed. Fingers clawed at my back, scratching the ancient glyphs burned into my skin. Pain laced through me, and I snapped my teeth a hair’s breadth from her ear. “Stop that.”

The order only seemed to piss her off more.

“Let me go!” She squirmed her fists between us and pounded against my chest. “Take me back!”

“Back?” I laughed, easing away to look down my nose at her. “There’s no going back, little dove. You’re dead.”

Her jaw dropped. “W—what?”

Angry red splotches covered her cheeks. Her face was long and more plain than Clauneck’s usual sacrifices, but those eyes... Shards of glittering, black ice drilled into me as if daring me to say more.

“A little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss in saving you.” I smirked, my tongue curling around an elongated canine. “Yourintendedintended for your soul to pay for his demonic patron’s eternal favor. Terms to be re-upped whenever that old toad Clauneck wants a new bride, of course.”

She shoved at my chest again, harder this time. I allowed her the illusion of control and took a step back. Her eyes blazed with fury and confusion.

“No. No, you’re lying. This is just some sick joke.” She shook her head, freeing some tendrils of dark hair from the knot at the nape of her neck. A burst of that delicious mist and lavender scent clouded the air. “Demons aren’t real.”

I snapped my fingers as she paced away, and the world around us shifted. The stark stone walls of my quarters melted away, replaced by a lush garden. A chaise materialized beneath me, and I lounged back, plucking a pomegranate from a nearby bowl.

“Welcome to the underworld, darling.” I bit into the fruit, imaging her essence coating my tongue instead. “I assure you, it’s very real.”

She spun in a slow circle, eyes darting from one detail to the next. A pond glittered in the distance, steam rising from its surface. Vines draped from the trees, dripping with succulent-looking fruits and flowers. “What are you?”

“I’m a reaper. One of many in this realm.” Too many, truthfully, and all that competition brought out our worst impulses. But no demon would pass up a deal, and business was booming. “Servants bound to shepherd souls to the afterlife until our debts are repaid.”

The...ideaof Hester swam into memory. Too many centuries separated us now for her features to remain sharp and clear. Dark hair, like mine. Eyes like our mother, but those were just repeated words.

Her agonized scream as Clauneck ripped her soul from her body, though, that stuck.

“But you aren’t...” The little dove narrowed her eyes, and she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Shepherding.”

“Perceptive, aren’t you? Your fate doesn’t lie in the afterlife. I couldn’t send you through if I tried.” I bit into the fruit, tasting only ash. “You belong to Clauneck, now. His pets traded you. The latest in a long line of brides.”

The latest Hester.

“No.” She shook her head, a stubborn glint in her eyes. “There’s been a mistake. Take me home.”

“Home? Or the altar I plucked you from?” I rose and circled her slowly, studying her from every angle. “My claim or the cult’s sacrifice, what is reaped cannot be resown.”

She tracked me as best she could, head turning to keep me in sight. Chin lifted high. Fear tangled in her misty lavender scent, in the depths of her dark eyes.

“Then why did you take me?”

Her voice wavered, tinged with an edge of accusation that had me tonguing my fangs again. I made another circuit around her. A fourth, a fifth, each revolution narrowing the distance.

“Why not?” I purred. “Clauneck’s had it coming for centuries. It’s been too long since someone snatched his toys.”

None had ever been so exquisite. So fucking tempting. I’d only meant to intercept the offering and toss her into the afterlife where she belonged. But one look into those frightened doe eyes, one glance at the knife aimed for her heart, had my fangs descending.

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