Page 29 of Reaper's Pack

Somehow, I’d thought the air would smell sweeter over here. It was all the same: the same forest, the same sky, the same warming sunshine.

Hazel’s scent on the breeze, tantalizing as ever, potent as fuck, even here on the celestial plane… I wasn’t sure if she slipped out of this otherworldly pathway to walk amongst the mortals once she left us, but dressed as a reaper, all in black and holding a scythe, I had serious doubts.

Had I not loved my pack as much as I did, our bond deeper than any in all the realms, I would have fled. Turned tail and run, deep into the forest, going, going, going until I was long gone. Abandon her, shirk her unwelcome sway over me so that I could be my own hound again, in control of my senses, my body, my mind.

Perhaps even my heart.

But I was loyal to Knox. A protector of Declan.

I would never leave them.

So, I padded after Hazel, slinking through the trees in her wake, tracking her with ease.

Until she disappeared.

Poof.

Into thin air.

To anyone else, this would have signaled the end. With no reaper to track, there was no mission. My heart drummed just a beat harder, adrenaline spiking, and I trotted after her, suddenly nimble and light on my feet, not stopping until I stood where she last had. Excitement made my mouth slick, my gut flutter, my chest tight. Finally, a chance to prove myself—to myself—beyond the confinements of the ward.

On our first day of training, Hazel had called us celestial beings. She had made an impassioned speech about it, in fact, suggesting we were akin to demons, reapers, even angels. While Declan had listened intently at the time, I’d let the words roll off me, instead focused on finding a way out of our new predicament.

But as it so often did, Hazel’s voice found its way to me at night, playing over and over again on a loop inside my head, in my dreams.

And all that repetition, rehashing and dissecting every fucking syllable until I was exhausted enough to pass out, paid off in spades.

Because if we were celestial beings as she had so passionately insisted, then we had a magic all our own, magic repressed and denied by our torturers all our lives. Magic she had tapped into when she taught us how to cross from the mortal realm into the celestial plane. Magic driven by intention.

Fourteen days ago, I had teleported for the first time—from one room to the other, I moved through space with intention. Ten days ago, I’d disappeared from my bedroom and reappeared in the forest. It had taken a few tries, naturally, and there would be no passing through the ward, no matter how adept I’d become at transporting myself through the ether. But I could move as she did. Behind intention stood our freedom.

This morning, however, intention would unravel Hazel’s best-kept secrets. Eyes closed, I fixated on her scent, on her face. I pictured her so clearly in my mind’s eye that desire thrummed through me, quite involuntarily of course, and I had to fight for the intention. Center myself. Commit.

When I did, I left the forest behind and reappeared out in the great wide world, surrounded by soaring cityscape, her scent stronger than ever and her back to me as she strolled unseen through throngs of oblivious humans, the click of her little heels carrying through the celestial plane.

Her secrets, at long last, mine.

* * *

As soon as the front door closed, its thunk echoing through the manor, Knox dropped his spoon, abandoning the pretense of ladling cinnamon-dusted oatmeal into his mouth, and then pinned me with a narrowed look.

“Well? Out with it, Gunnar.”

I picked at the squishy crust of my peameal bacon, knowing I couldn’t skirt him a second longer. Hazel had left us for the day—again—and my alpha had been waiting hours for a report on what I’d seen out in the real world. The confirmation that I could successfully teleport through the celestial plane had been news well-received, as I’d thought it would be, but the real curiosity came for her. All three of us felt for her. Interest danced through the pack bond anytime the reaper was around, and it wasn’t just from Declan, as much as Knox and I made him feel that way.

My alpha wanted to know her. He craved her weaknesses and the chance to exploit them for the betterment of the pack. While he hadn’t said as such in so many words, I could read Knox possibly even better than I could read myself.

Which was why I knew, right now, as he glowered at me from across the kitchen island, that his patience had run out. After sneaking back into our warded territory yesterday, barely making it in time and grateful as fuck that Hazel hadn’t sealed the barrier behind her, I had insisted we wait. After all, she might overhear us, and even though it wouldn’t arouse suspicions if neither Knox nor I spoke to her for the rest of the day, I’d pushed my own narrative that it was crucial to discuss my findings when she was gone—completely out of range.

And Knox had indulged me… until now.

In the meantime, I had wrestled with my feelings about what I’d seen yesterday, the various scenes burned into my brain forever. Her smile. Her tears. Knox intended to use her emotions against her, and at this time yesterday, I’d been completely onboard with that.

Today…

I ground my teeth together, looking pointedly out the windows over the sink. Hazel had repaired them recently, smoothing the cracks with a stroke of her hand. Declan had then cleaned them without magic, scrubbing each pane, standing up on the counters to reach the far corners as Hazel hovered around his feet, fretting that he might fall. Through the spotless glass, cedars swayed in the morning breeze, a near replica of the conditions I’d experienced yesterday. Cooler temperatures. Breezy but not blustery. Unfettered sunshine and a beautiful blue sky.

How strange, how fucking irritating, that everything around me could look the same, but inside my whole damn world had flipped on its head.

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