Page 102 of Reaper's Ruin
She was fire beneath me. I was the storm crashing down to meet her.
And nothing,nothing,had ever felt more right.
When our bodies joined, the sensation was so overwhelming I had to close my eyes, had to pause to absorb the feeling of perfectcompletion. Eight centuries of emptiness, of cold detachment, vanished in the warmth of her body. She gasped, her back arching, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
“Rhyker,” she breathed, my name on her lips more powerful than any incantation.
I began to move, slowly at first, savoring each sensation, each subtle change in her expression. But the fire between us couldn’t be contained. Our movements grew more urgent, more desperate, a primal rhythm as old as time itself.
She cried out—loud, raw, unfiltered—and I buried my face against her throat, gasping against the heat of her skin. She was so tight, so hot, clenching around me like her body recognized mine. Like it had beenmadefor me. I could barely hold back. I didn’twantto hold back.
She was mine now.
Every stroke was a claim, every breath she gave me a tether I clung to like a man crawling out of oblivion itself. I drove into her with punishing thrusts, each one knocking the air from us both. The desk creaked beneath her. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the chamber.
Her nails scored down my back. Her teeth grazed my shoulder. She was just as wild, just as desperate—grinding her hips up to meet every thrust like she couldn’t get enough. Like she needed me as badly as I needed her.
And fuck, she was soloud. Begging. Moaning. Panting my name like she couldn’t stop saying it. The dirty things coming out of that perfect, filthy little mouth only made me want her more.
She was perfection beneath me—responsive, unashamed, meeting each thrust with equal fervor. Her hands traced the scars across my back from battles fought centuries ago, accepting all of me without question or judgment.
“I’ll never forget this,” she gasped, voice breaking as she rocked against me. “Never—Rhyker—more—”
I gave her more.
My mouth found her breast, tongue flicking over the tight peak before I bit gently—just enough to make her cry out and arch beneath me. Her whole body shuddered, and I felt her tighten around me, her orgasm spiraling through her like lightning crashing through glass.
“Fuck.” The curse tore from my throat as I watched her fall apart. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”
I should’ve slowed down. I should’ve been gentle. Given her time to bathe in the aftermath of her release.
I couldn’t.
I grabbed her by the waist, hauling her to stand then commanded her. “Turn around.”
She did—breathless, trusting, hair wild and cheeks flushed.
I grabbed her hips, and then I slammed into her from behind and took her—hardand fast and brutal. She met me thrust for thrust, no hesitation, no fear. Just us, caught in this violent, perfect storm we’d been circling for days.
Gods, she was even tighter this way. Her body welcomed me, her cries muffled by her arm braced against the wood, and I gritted my teeth, holding on by a thread as I pounded into her, losing every last scrap of control I’d ever had.
I was going to come. Too fast. Too hard.
And I didn’t care.
“Say it,” I demanded, my voice a rough snarl. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” she gasped. “You.I’m yours, Rhyker.”
That was it.
I groaned her name like a prayer and exploded inside her, hips stuttering, pulse thundering. At that same moment I lost control,my wings exploded from my body, the dark shadows consuming the space around us as they curled forward, surrounding us. My forehead dropped to her back, and for a long moment, all I could do was breathe her in.
She was shaking, still clinging to the desk, her legs trembling as I held her on the desk—hisdesk. The very man that had murdered her had somehow gifted me this woman—mywoman—and gods did I hate myself for feeling grateful to him.
She would have lived her mortal life, never knowing I existed, while I haunted the shadows for eternity, alone.
Part of me wanted to reach into his chest and rip out his heart for what we’d done to her. But the other part? To be grateful for the tragedy that had brought her to me—what kind of monster had I become? But how could I wish for anything different—anything that would’ve meant she’d never come here?
