Page 39 of Reaper's Pack

Not… this, no matter what my heart cried.

Slowly but surely, the game of fetch led us all down the beach—attracting onlookers, encouraging them to wander over to chat with me. Taking a cue from them, I eventually removed my shoes, toes in the sand, and made sure not to make physical contact with anyone. The old saying was true, after all: Death had a cold hand, and reapers were no different. I already looked like a washed-out version of the humans loitering around me, asking questions about Declan’s breed, about his age, his temperament—no need to give them any further indication that I was different.

Eventually, Declan and the kids ended up in the surf. The oldest boy hurled the stick into the Pacific, and my hellhound charged in, fearless with his adoring fans cheering behind him. It was a sight to behold, his great black form bounding through the waves, barking and playing and happy.

Would other reapers have given him this chance?

All his past suffering—maybe its purpose was to bring him to Knox and Gunnar, and, in turn, me.

I had never believed in fate, even after death, but it was hard to ignore the chain of events that led us to this moment, to Declan playing, wild and free and content, and me being invited by the children’s parents to join them for a beer like I truly was just another normal human.

It all felt so right, the day beautiful, the mood light, my heart so full…

Even with that storm rolling over the Pacific, inching ever closer across the horizon.

13

Declan

The humans had packed up and left at the first murmur of thunder.

At the time, I’d been almost sad to see them go, but now I was grateful for the solitude, for the privacy their absence gave Hazel and me. Two figures, alone on a beach much farther north than where we’d started. A reaper and a naked hellhound, soaked to the bone in chilly rainwater, riding out the storm as one.

A bolt of silver split the sky, skittering over the black. Temporary as it was, it illuminated the writhing treetops, casting the green in an eerie white glow that thrilled me far more than it scared me. Seconds later, thunder cracked so violently that they must have felt it in Hell. The storm crashed over the ocean, curls of white-tipped dark blue surging up to meet the sky in battle.

A good thing the humans had cleared out. As I blinked the droplets from my eyes, water sluicing down my skin and taking with it more than just the grit of the beach, I wondered if I could brave the waves. If one of those precious pups had been sucked away in the tide, victims to the ocean’s fury, would I be strong enough to save them?

Another flash of lightning, this time brighter, closer, the thunder booming before the light died. Wind whipped across the beach, toying with Hazel’s dress, her white hair even starker in the storm.

For once, fear evaded me. Loud noises and strange lights might have sent me running in the past, my heart racing, my nerves on fire, but not here—not now, not with her. Rather, I embraced it, succumbing to its primal call as the gale intensified.

Even in the form of a man, I felt my truest self come alive beneath the lash of light and the deafening crack-boom of the heavens. An hour in and the storm showed no signs of stopping, working its way inland. Did the pack feel it too—the summons, the power, the intensity? Out here, I truly was a beast, an animal uncaged, energy surging through my every limb.

A sheet of rain cut across the small beach we found ourselves on, dampening Hazel’s scent, but even still—she was so much more intoxicating in the human realm. I always craved her, but standing here now, bare feet deep in wet sand, hair plastered across my forehead, raw, unbridled energy humming in my chest—I no longer possessed the will to stop myself from claiming her. No more suppressed desires. No more forgotten urges.

The next silver bolt split violently, twin streams engulfing the entire sky, thunder cracking in their wake. They lit up my reaper’s face, her high cheekbones, her deliciously pointed chin, her ivory flesh.

Her wicked smile.

For she enjoyed the storm too, her shoes abandoned a few beaches back, her hair loose, her arms up as she danced in the rain. Jumping. Twirling. Laughing. Hazel was a wild thing in her own right, those beautiful eyes like beacons in the darkness.

Calling me home.

The next torrent of brisk ocean wind hit the beach hard. I braced against it, arm up to shield my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Hazel embracing the gale like she would an old friend, arms outstretched, head thrown back. It wrapped around her like a lover instead, hoisting her black dress up her thighs, pasting the fabric taut over her curves.

She favored shapeless garments most days, but here, now, I had a moment to admire every delectable inch of her…

And she was a goddess.

A primal, wanton creature of the old world. The storm paled in comparison to her, and as I faced her direction, turning my back on the ocean, I truly saw her—for the first time, it seemed. No longer was this reaper my mentor, my protector, my guardian in this new life.

She was a woman.

A vision.

A dream.

She was everything—and I wanted her. Desperately. Not sweetly either.

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