Page 39 of Reaper's Ruin
“Here. Hold still.”
She stepped directly in front of me, leaning up on her toes as she reached up.
I recoiled as her fingers moved toward my mouth, but she didn’t hesitate, and instead, reached out, brushing her thumb across the corner of my lips.
“Just a little sugar there,” she said, but I could barely process the simple words.
The intimate contact sent a shock through my system—her skin was so soft, so warm as it brushed against mine.
I pulled back quickly, stunned by the response coursing through my body, but the sensation lingered like a brand on my lips.
She froze for a moment, her eyes widening slightly, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. “Sorry. Was that rude? I just didn’t want you walking around the Dark Market with smooge on your face.”
“It’s fine,” I said sharply, then spun away from her, needing a moment to regain my senses stolen by her touch. “We should go,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “We still need to find the weapons trader.”
She nodded, finishing the last bite of her sweet roll. “So, where’s this Dark Market? Do you know where it is?”
I snorted. “Of course. I was a Reaper for eight hundred years. I can say I probably came to the Dark Market more than anyother place. Souls linger where they die, and there are many angry, murdered ghosts in the Dark Market.”
She pulled a face. “Well, that’s not comforting.”
I looked at her, eyes stern and serious. “It’s not supposed to be. This is a dangerous place we’re going.”
“Well, at least I’m already dead, so it’s not like anyone can kill me.”
Thought of harm coming to her, any harm, sent a wave of furious rage coursing through me. “We don’t know what happens to these bodies if we get hurt or killed. You must be careful. Do you understand?”
My words were harsh, but I intended them that way. I needed her to understand the type of place we were going.
“Okay. I will,” she said, and her face looked like she meant it. “Do we have to find a secret entrance or something?”
“Something like that.”
I started to turn away, but her hand caught my arm. “Rhyker? Thank you. For the sweet roll. For... everything.”
The sincerity in her eyes, the warmth of her touch—it was more dangerous than any threat waiting in the Dark Market. Because the criminals and killers lurking in those shadows were predictable. Their violence was something I could handle. Something I understood.
But Soraya? She made me feel things I’d forgotten how to feel. Made me remember what it was like to be human.
And that was more dangerous than anything lurking in the shadows of the Dark Market.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rhyker
I led her away from the main thoroughfare, down progressively narrower streets. The gleaming white facades gave way to weathered buildings with dingy stone and worn wood. The well-dressed fae were replaced by shadier characters who eyed us with varying degrees of suspicion and interest.
We turned down an alley barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and at the end, a rusted iron door stood half-hidden behind stacked crates.
“This doesn’t look very appealing,” Soraya muttered, staying close to my side.
I pushed the door open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down into darkness. The smell that wafted up was a pungent mix of smoke, unwashed bodies, and things better left unidentified. I’d been here countless times behind the Shadowveil and never experienced it with all my senses. I now craved that barrier between us to mask the stench enveloping us wholly.
“The Dark Market,” I said simply.
Soraya wrinkled her nose. “Charming.”
I took her hand, guiding her down the slippery steps. “Stay close. Don’t speak unless necessary. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.”
