Page 121 of Reaper's Ruin
“The Shadowveil,” I said, still stunned I’d actually succeeded. I’d ripped open the barrier between life and death and I’ d done it... for her.
She stepped back slightly, her eyes sweeping over me. I tensed, waiting for fear. Like she’d suddenly remember this was what I truly was—not the man she’d kissed in the storm, not the noble who’d ravished her on the desk, not the protector who’d fought for her in the palace.
I was Death, cold and eternal.
But there was no fear in her eyes. Only that same look of awe she got that could drop me to my knees.
The sound of voices reached us, muffled by the veil between worlds but still audible. She tensed, but I shook my head.
“They can’t see us. Not here.”
We watched in silence as the Storm Warriors entered the clearing, their forms strangely blurred from our perspective. They pushed around the brush, following our tracks to where we’d vanished.
“They’re gone,” one of them said, his voice distant, as if coming from underwater. “The tracks just... stop.”
“Impossible,” another growled, a tall woman with lightning crackling around her fingertips. “Search the area. They can’t have vanished.”
Soraya pressed closer to me as they moved through the clearing, some passing within inches of where we stood. None of them showed any sign of sensing our presence. I kept my wings partially extended, ready to shield her if necessary, though I knew they couldn’t harm us here. I kept her close, my arms around her, my wings a barrier to protect her from whatever may come.
Eventually, the Storm Warriors gave up their search, mounting their steeds and continuing down the path we’d abandoned, assuming we’d been on Moonshadow and galloped away. I knew he’d find his herd soon, and when they saw him riderless, they’d be back on us in an instant.
When the last of them had disappeared from sight, Soraya looked up at me, her eyes reflecting the strange, silvery light of the Shadowveil.
“You saved us,” she whispered.
“For now,” I said, unable to keep the grimness from my voice. “But we can’t stay here. I’m worried the Veil Lords will sense us. We need to go. I can slice us straight to the Flame Court. To safety.”
She gripped me tighter, no question as to my plans.
She trusted me.
Completely.
I looked at this impossible woman who had changed everything. Who had made me feel again after centuries of emptiness. Who had looked at Death itself and hadn’t flinched away.
I pulled her closer. “Hold onto me.”
As I held her against me, I noticed the absence of my heartbeat because it should have been racing at her touch.
I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t crave the feel of her in my arms. Shouldn’t yearn for the impossible future that could never be ours.
But I did. Gods help me, I did.
Her face tilted up toward mine, her eyes searching, asking a question I couldn’t answer. Slowly, achingly slow, she rose on her toes, her lips parting slightly as they neared mine.
I should have stopped her. Should have turned away. Should have remembered that this—whatever this was between us—could only end in pain.
Instead, I was too exhausted to fight back. Maybe it was from the battle against the Shadowveil that had drained me, or the days of holding her in my arms like the most exquisite torture, but whatever it was, my resolve flickered, and slowly, I leaned down, meeting her halfway.
Her lips touched mine, soft and hesitant at first, then with growing urgency. Heat bloomed between us, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness of the Shadowveil. My arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, as if I could somehow keep her with me forever if I just held on tightly enough.
Her hands slid up my chest, tangling in my hair, and a sound escaped me—half groan, half surrender. I was drowning in her, in the taste of her, in the feel of her body pressed against mine.
For eight centuries, I had been Death—cold, implacable, untouchable. Now I was burning alive, consumed by a fire I’d thought long extinguished.
This was madness. This was wrong. This was—
Perfect.
