Page 65 of The Reaper's Vow
A wicked grin pulls at my mouth as I lean in, pressing a kiss to her throat.
“Good,” I murmur against her skin. “Because there’s no going back now.”
Karina
Water drips from my hair onto Damien's plush carpet as I stand in the middle of his childhood bedroom, wrapped in a towel that costs more than my monthly rent. The shower still steams up the bathroom behind us, evidence of promises made under hot water and desperate hands. My body hums with aftershocks, the place between my thighs still pulsing from his touch.
I'm still processing what happened in the shower when I spot something that wasn't there before. On the edge of his bed lies a neatly folded stack of clothes—a soft gray sweater and what looks like matching leggings.
“Whose clothes are these?” I ask, moving closer. As I lean in, I catch an unfamiliar female scent clinging to the fabric.
Damien glances over as he pulls a fresh shirt over his head, muscles rippling beneath tattooed skin. “My sister’s.”
I run my fingers over the soft material, suddenly aware of how real this all is. I'm not just in his territory, I'm being absorbed into his world.
He crosses the room to stand behind me. His chest presses against my back.
I lift the sweater and examine it more closely. It's expensive, cashmere maybe, and impossibly soft against my fingers. Nothing like the threadbare clothes I left behind. “Will I meet her soon?”
“After we see my father.” His grip steadies on my hips, heat seeping through his palms. “She might keep her distance at first. After what she’s endured, letting anyone close takes time.”
I set the sweater down, turning in his arms. The towel shifts, and I catch it before it falls completely. “And what will you tell your family? About us?”
His focus drops to where my hands clutch the towel. “That you’re mine. That anyone with a problem can take it up with me.” His fingers slide over mine, prying the fabric from my grip and letting it fall in a heap at my feet. “As much as I hate to say this, get dressed, kitten. My father doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Reluctantly, I reach for the borrowed clothes. The leggings and sweater slip over my skin easily.
“There's something I need to ask you. Who is Elena Rosewood?”
Damien stills, his expression instantly guarded. “How do you know that name, kitten?”
“When they came for me, one of them said something.” I swallow hard, the memory of those terrifying moments flooding back. “He said Lockhart wanted to meet her daughter.”
Damien's face gives nothing away.
“Who is she?” I press.
Damien runs a hand through his damp hair. “Elena was a legend among our kind. The only female alpha to ever exist.”
“Alpha?” The word feels strange on my tongue. “Like your father?”
“More powerful, some would say.” He moves to the window, his back to me as he chooses his next words carefully. “She disappeared twenty-eight years ago along with her mate. Some say they were killed. Others believe they went into hiding to protect something...or someone.”
The implication hangs heavy in the air between us. My mouth goes dry.
“You think I'm her daughter.” It's not a question. The pieces are clicking into place with terrifying clarity.
“I think it's a possibility we need to consider.” Damien turns to face me.
“That's ridiculous. My parents were normal. Ordinary. They ran a hardware store in Eureka, for god's sake. They weren't...wolves on the run.”
“Did they ever talk about their past? Their families? Where they came from before Eureka?”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again. The truth is, they didn't. My parents never talked about the past. Never mentioned grandparents, cousins, or family traditions. When I asked as a child, they'd deflect with gentle smiles and promises to tell me when I was older. A day that never came.
“They were protecting you,” Damien says, reading my expression. “If you are her daughter, your bloodline makes youthe most valuable female in North America. Wars have been fought over less.”
My legs give out, and I sink onto the edge of his bed. The cashmere sweater suddenly feels suffocating against my skin. “I can barely manage my own life, let alone be some kind of...supernatural royalty.”
