Page 35 of Reaper's Pack

12

Hazel

“I really am sorry about all this…”

I stopped my swift march through the cedars with a sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. Declan and I hadn’t said a word since we’d left the house, bathed in late-afternoon sunshine, the sky clear—perfect weather for what I had in mind for our first solo outing. But the day hadn’t matched my mood, and a week after my pack told me they had sent Gunnar to spy on me, breached my ward, I still hadn’t fully recovered.

And then there was Declan, his voice so apologetic, so sweet, like the first misting of spring rain after a bleak winter. For seven long days, I had been distant from my hellhounds, barely speaking to them, mulling over the best plan of attack for these day trips that they wanted into Lunadell. We had kept our conversations centered around training, and I’d become the house ghost, lurking in shadows, unable to bring myself into the fold.

Honestly, it had been a fucking miserable week. In just a month, I had come to appreciate their chatter, even if it was meant to rile me up. Most of all, I enjoyed having companions again—beings who were just there, so I wasn’t alone.

We had almost lost that. Following me to Lunadell, spying on my most shameful ritual, was grounds for punishment. I could have sent them back to Fenix for much less; Knox and Gunnar took insubordination to a whole new level most of the time, even if they did everything I asked of them when we were training.

The potential loss struck a nerve, and it had taken me far longer than it should have to recover.

Declan’s footsteps had fallen silent behind me. My sweet, helpful Declan. He had been instrumental in me agreeing to any of this; it only made sense that he was the first to go out, the one to set the tone for all future trips.

He didn’t deserve the silent treatment.

Scythe in hand, I turned slowly and found him a good ten feet behind. Clearly he had been keeping his distance on purpose. Normally we walked everywhere together, our steps falling into an easy rhythm.

I hated to find him so far away, his expression tensed—like he was waiting for me to shout at him, maybe even strike him. Knox had had a point: the pack had never known anyone better.

And, damn it, I would be better.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I told him, gaze snagging on his hair, on the way the wind gently ruffled it. When he had first arrived, Declan sported a cropped haircut, neat and nondescript—militant, almost. Since then, it had grown out, the beginnings of a head of thick, obsidian curls on the horizon. It suited him better, the soft waves of black, so dark they were almost blue in the right light—so feathery that it deserved a good finger-combing just to reinstate some order. I gripped my scythe tighter, fingers itching to do the job.

The hellhound scratched at the back of his neck, and when he stepped forward into a beam of bright afternoon sunshine, I noticed a smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose. All this time outside in the sun had been good for him—good for all of them. Even Gunnar sported a healthy glow these days, his porcelain skin a shade darker.

Very fair would be the appropriate makeup for him. Declan, meanwhile, had become the most exquisite golden brown—healthy, his cheeks fuller, his shoulders broader, his body somehow even more muscular than the first time I’d seen him naked and steaming from the shift.

“But I do have to apologize,” he insisted, not stopping until we were a foot apart. “I feel like I guilted you into this, and it wasn’t fair of me—”

“Declan, stop.” I wrapped a hand around his wrist, my little squeeze forcing those big brown eyes to meet mine. Electricity skittered up my arm at the contact, and warmth bloomed in my cheeks when his breath stuttered. Focus, Hazel. “I can see the merit in this, in going out together, walking amongst the humans. It’s a good idea… I just wish Gunnar and Knox had gone about it differently, that’s all.”

“But it hurt you.”

I swallowed thickly. “It did.”

“And that’s why I’m sorry.”

How could a man look so earnest without it being an act? I’d never seen it before, not when I was alive and not in the souls I reaped now. But something shimmered in Declan’s eyes that I couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was because they were so big—and maybe because it was real.

My heart lurched at the thought of hugging him, of following my gut and draping my arms around his neck again, breathing in his spicy, masculine musk.

“Okay, well…” I stayed exactly there, keeping the space between us, my hand clasped around his wrist. “Sure, I accept your apology.”

He nodded, his mouth twitching into a familiar smile—something warm and cozy, a smile that made the little butterflies in my tummy flutter to life. Birds twittered all around us, the forest alive in the throes of early autumn. They sensed us on the celestial plane, our presence unseen but palpable. Alone in our own little bubble, Declan and I simply stood there for a few painfully long beats of my heart, him a full head taller than me in my flats despite being the shortest in the pack. I was the first to look away, my eyes dropping to where we touched, heat flaring in my palm. Declan shifted in place, bringing that gorgeous body of his a breath closer, and I finally detached.

“I think you’re going to like the spot I chose for today,” I babbled, stumbling back a few paces and shouldering my scythe. My free hand still burned from the physical contact, aching to settle back against his skin, and I flexed it in and out of a fist with a nod toward the nearby ward. “Come on.”

He kept his distance again as he followed me through the trees, though it wasn’t quite as gaping as it had been a few minutes earlier. Good. While the events of last week had thrown me, I hadn’t wanted our first trip riddled with tension—not with Declan. After all, I had chosen today’s spot specifically for him.

For all of them.

I mean, no way would I let the pack decide where we went in Lunadell; I just couldn’t allow them that kind of power. However, in my stretch of solo—depressing—downtime this past week, I’d given all three initial outings a great deal of thought, tailoring the location and the activity for each hound.

Gunnar had actually been the easiest.

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