Page 151 of Reaper's Ruin
“I love you,” he breathed against my mouth, the words a prayer, a promise, a vow. “I love you, Soraya.”
“I love you,” I gasped in return, clinging to him as pleasure built between us. “I always will.”
When release came, it was like dying and being reborn in the same exquisite moment—a shattering so complete that I cried out, tears spilling down my cheeks as emotion overwhelmed me.
Rhyker held me through it, his own release following mine, his body shuddering as he whispered my name like a prayer against my throat.
Afterward, we lay tangled together beneath the furs, the firelight casting a golden glow over our intertwined bodies. Rhyker’s fingers traced idle patterns along my spine as I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
“You know, the one benefit of being dead is not having to worry about getting pregnant.” I peeked up at him and grinned.
“This is true. No need for me to pull out. And I certainly enjoy coming inside of you.”
“Well, my mom always told me to find the upside. So, the actual lords of death are hunting us, I can’t find my door, we canbe obliterated at any moment, but hey... bareback, condomless mind-blowing sex.”
He furrowed his brow. “I have no idea what that meant.”
I laughed. “It means it’s good. Sex without anything between us is very good.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to my head. “Yes. Yes it is.”
“So... what happens now?” I asked softly, the question that had been haunting me finally finding voice. “How long can we hide?”
His arms tightened around me. “As long as we need to,” he said. “Selyse’s spell will protect us from the Shadow Watchers. As long as we remain in these forms, no Reaper can harm us directly.”
“But they won’t stop looking,” I said, voicing the fear we both shared. “The Veil Lords won’t just let us go.”
Rhyker was quiet for a moment, his fingers still tracing patterns along my skin. “No,” he acknowledged finally. “They won’t.”
“And my door?” I asked, my voice small. “Will I ever find it now? Will I ever see my mother again?”
He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me, his expression serious. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “The rules of death... they’re complicated. But if there’s a way, we’ll find it. Together.”
The honesty in his voice was more comforting than false promises would have been. He wasn’t offering me certainty—just his unwavering support, his determination to face whatever came next while standing at my side.
“I’m not sorry,” I said suddenly, needing him to understand. “Even if this ends badly, even if I never find my door... I’m not sorry I met you. I’m not sorry I loved you.”
Something broke open in his expression—a vulnerability so raw it made my breath catch. He lowered his forehead to mine, his eyes closing as if the weight of emotion was too much to bear.
“Eight hundred years,” he whispered. “Eight centuries of darkness and emptiness. And then you came, and suddenly there was light again. Hope again.” His voice caught. “You saved me long before I ever tried to save you.”
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as his body trembled with the force of emotions long suppressed. This warrior, this ancient being who had faced down gods and monsters, who had walked through death and shadow for centuries—he allowed himself to be vulnerable with me. To be seen, truly seen, perhaps for the first time in any life.
In this quiet moment, wrapped in his arms, I found a peace I hadn’t expected. Yes, we were hunted. Yes, our future was uncertain. But here, now, we had each other. We had this stolen time, these precious moments that no one—not the Veil Lords, not the Reapers, not death itself—could take from us.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Rhyker
Dawn light filtered through the cabin’s small windows, casting golden beams across Soraya’s sleeping form. I watched her—the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her long hair spilled across the pillow, the soft curve of her lips as she dreamed. Even after these few days together, I still marveled at her existence. At the miracle of her in my life.
For eight hundred years, I’d lived in shadow and isolation. Now, somehow, I had this—mornings filled with light, a small cabin nestled between mountains, and a woman who had changed everything.
I slipped from the bed, careful not to wake her, and moved to stoke the fire. The mountain air carried a chill even in summer, and I wanted her to wake to warmth. Such a simple desire, yet it filled me with a strange contentment I’d never known before.
The past few days had been... surreal. Almost like a dream of what my human life might have been had fate taken a different turn. We’d settled into a rhythm that felt oddly natural—hunting for food, gathering water from the stream, finding moments of peace despite the shadow of danger hanging over us.
It felt like playing at life—a beautiful, fragile imitation that could shatter at any moment. Yet I cherished every second of it.
