Dark Alpha's Awakening--A Reaper Novel

by Donna Grant

  Xaneth ran a hand down his face, more confused than ever.

  “Then again,” Balladyn said as he began to smile, “you could kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Meaning?”

  Balladyn sat back in the chair. “Infiltrate Bran’s ranks as a spy.”

  “Two birds. One stone.” Xaneth liked the idea. Because it would allow him to go with whichever side won. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

  “Your mind was focused on choosing one or the other. Remember, go somewhere quiet next time,” Balladyn advised.

  Xaneth got to his feet. “You will get your revenge on Usaeil for whatever she did to you.”

  “This is what she did to me,” Balladyn said. “She left me for dead on the battlefield. Taraeth was supposed to kill me, but he brought me here and turned me Dark.”

  “Shite,” Xaneth murmured. He’d suspected that something devious had made a warrior of Balladyn’s character Dark. It was no surprise that Xaneth’s aunt had been responsible.

  Balladyn looked away. “Watch your back, lad. Always.”

  “I’m going to spy for you, as well. The Dark will feel safe again.”

  The king’s head swung back to him. “You would’ve made a great king for the Light, Xaneth. I’m sorry your family was taken from you in such a heinous way.”

  He shrugged. “Life goes on, right?”

  “That it does. If you need anything, call for me. I’ll help.”

  Xaneth held out his hand to the king. They clasped forearms, staring into each other’s eyes. With a nod, Xaneth released his hold and made his way back downstairs to the main rooms.

  With his focus renewed, he observed others with a sharper, more intent concentration. And that’s when he spotted a Dark watching the others intently. Xaneth watched him for a long while before he was certain this Dark worked for Bran. Then Xaneth made his way over to the Fae.

  The Dark glanced at him in annoyance. “Go away,” he replied gruffly.

  Xaneth smiled. “I thought you’d want to talk to anyone wishing to join the army you’re building. That is why you’re taking Dark, right?”

  The Fae narrowed his gaze, instantly wary.

  “I want to escape my meddling family and get some fighting experience,” Xaneth finished.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Xaneth shrugged, his lips twisting. “My mistake. I heard a rumor that someone was helping Dark get out of bad situations with the payment being joining an army.”

  The Dark said nothing as he stared.

  “Too bad,” Xaneth said. “I guess I’ll go try someone else.”

  He got two steps before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Xaneth hid his smile before he whirled around.

  “Hold on,” the Dark said.

  Xaneth widened his eyes. “So, the rumors are true? Tell me where I need to sign up.”

  The Dark looked him up and down before he smiled. He held out a piece of paper. “Go to that address. And if you have any more friends wanting to get away from their meddling families, send them my way.”

  “Will do,” Xaneth said and walked away.

  As he made his way to the back of the palace, he saw Balladyn watching. Xaneth gave a nod to the king and kept walking.

  A lot hinged on Xaneth being able to act as a spy. He’d done it before, but only for himself. This time, it was for the Fae in general—and the Reapers.

  This time, there was no room for any kind of screw-ups.

  Xaneth glanced at the address on the paper and teleported to it.

  Chapter Twelve

  She’d said too much. Erith knew it, but once the words were out of her mouth, they couldn’t be taken back. After she’d let it slip to Cael that she couldn’t lose him, she’d left her chamber—because being so close to the bed with him was too much to handle.

  Especially after he’d held her so tenderly not that long ago.

  “Where are you going?” Cael demanded as he followed her out.

  Erith stopped on the landing. She knew without having to ask that he had been to every nook and cranny in the tower. Even the top, which was her special place.

  She turned to face him. “I’m no longer going to sit around, waiting for something to happen. I’ve done that for too long, and look where it’s gotten me.”

  “What if Bran takes more of your magic again?”

  “He will,” she told Cael. “That’s inevitable unless I find out how he’s doing it.”

  “We.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “You said until you find out what Bran is doing. I corrected it to we.”

  Erith became lost in Cael’s silver eyes. He was the strongest Fae she knew. He was the type who always bent beneath the weight of something but never broke.

  He’d been born for great things, but a betrayal had delivered him into her hands. She didn’t want to be happy about that, but the simple fact was that she was. Very much so. Cael was everything that was honorable and admirable. He held the qualities she wished she had herself, the traits that Erith strived for every day to make up for the lives she had so ruthlessly taken.

  “I’m the only one who will be able to get close enough to Bran to find out how he’s taking my magic.”

  Cael shook his head. “There’s still a chance Seamus will come through.”

  “A slim one, yes. But I refuse to hinge everything on him. That’s something an inexperienced and naïve person would do. I’m neither.”

  “You saw the good in him,” Cael stated as he moved closer. “When I would’ve killed him, you showed him compassion. You gave him free rein on your realm. You trusted him.”

  She shrugged and glanced away. “And, as you pointed out, he probably betrayed me.” She laughed as she turned and strode into the library, the place where she did most of her work. “You think I would know a betrayal before it happened. I’ve seen so many.”

  “As you’ve often said, you aren’t all-seeing.”

  Erith halted in the middle of the room and looked toward the open windows that let in the songs of the birds, the scents of the flowers, and the breeze. “Maybe this is my punishment for all the death I delivered across the universe.”

  “Stop,” Cael stated as he came up behind her. “Since when do you wallow in self-pity?”

  She spun around. “Self-pity? Is that what you think this is? I’m being practical.”

  “You’re being dramatic. We’ve all done things we regret.”

  “Have you killed millions simply because it felt good?” she demanded.

  His lips flattened before he said. “Nay.”

  “Have you eagerly descended upon a realm, happy to hear the screams of terror?”

  Cael glared at her and shook his head.

  “Then don’t tell me I’m being dramatic. I’m being realistic. Everything comes back around on us. Everything.”

  “And you believe this is your penance?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Erith swallowed and looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I do. I just hate that the Reapers will be taken down with me.”

  “I thought you had stopped thinking like that. I told you, we need Death and the Mistress of War.”

  Oh! He infuriated her. Hadn’t he listened to anything she’d said? Didn’t he understand?

  Erith strode to him until their bodies were nearly touching. She lifted her head and glared up at him, though some of her anger dissipated at his nearness, a reminder of his effect on her body. “It might be too late for that.”

  “Might,” he replied succinctly.

  She hated the emotions that rolled through her like the waves upon the shore. Regardless of what she did, she couldn’t seem to control her reactions or her feelings, no matter how hard she tried.

  How easy it would be to lift her hands and lay them on his chest, to run her palms over his hard muscles. To . . . no. She had to stop. Otherwise, she might take herself down a path she couldn’
t come back from.

  Normally, she would’ve dismissed Cael and sent him back to the Reapers. Instead, she found that she had an overwhelming desire to roll her eyes.

  “I’ve laid out the facts,” she stated, proud of herself for not giving in to the eye-roll. “As you pointed out earlier, before we can begin to think about fighting Bran, we have to stop him from taking any more of my magic.”

  Cael smiled at her emphasis of we. “Precisely.”

  “But . . .” she pressed when he hesitated.

  He sighed as he dropped his arms. “You need to get a handle on yourself.”

  Erith didn’t need him to explain exactly what he meant. Her emotions.

  “If Bran sees that he’s rattled you, he’ll mercilessly go in for the kill,” Cael continued.

  She nodded absently. “Ever since I picked my sword back up, along with my weakening state, I can’t seem to control anything.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  The fact that there was a note of amusement in his voice had her struggling not to smile. “I expected you to say something sooner.”

  “There was no need. I could see you were fighting it. Though I probably shouldn’t, I’ll admit that it’s nice to see that you can feel out of control like the rest of us.”

  Was he joking? She gaped at him. “I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever felt in control.”

  “That’s not how you appear.” He twisted his lips. “It’s not how you sound or even how you approach things.”

  “A façade. I’ve gotten good at masking my feelings.” So good, in fact, that she could almost pretend sometimes that she didn’t love Cael.

  Almost.

  Cael turned his head as he looked away, his black hair slipping over one shoulder as he did. She recalled just how silky the strands felt sliding through her fingers. She had allowed herself a quick touch while he lay dying so long ago.

  “Why are you alone?”

  She was taken aback by his question. The fact that he wouldn’t look at her when he asked was even worse. Erith pivoted and walked to a bookcase to give herself something to do. She looked at the spines but didn’t read the titles.

  Behind her, Cael’s voice reached her once more. “I understood and agreed with your rules for the Reapers, but that didn’t mean you had to follow them, as well. You shouldn’t spend eternity alone.”

  “I’m not alone.” She had the Reapers. She had Cael.

  From a distance.

  And that was enough. It had to be.

  “Was there someone you loved and lost?” he pressed.

  Erith didn’t want to go down this road. She wanted to keep their conversation on something safer, like the upcoming battle. But Cael had flung open the gates and was barreling through with his prying inquiries. Questions she couldn’t answer.

  “You mean as you did?” she asked, squeezing her eyes closed each time she thought of Cael holding the pretty Fae in his arms.

  “Nay.”

  The word came from close behind her. He’d moved as stealthily as a feline. “I know you did,” she said.

  “I thought I loved Corla, aye,” Cael replied. “I realized I didn’t. So, no, I didn’t leave anyone I loved behind.”

  His words, husky and soft, were so near that she wondered if he would be there to mold his body against hers if she leaned back. Erith closed her eyes against the desire to find out.

  Her will to stand fast against her need for Cael was crumbling fast. It had been dealt a crushing blow when he held her. And his sexy voice was like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  “You have loved, haven’t you?” Cael pressed.

  She wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn’t get past her lips. When she tried to shake her head, it also wouldn’t obey her. The lie—because it was a lie—wouldn’t manifest in any form.

  “Go to him—or her. If they don’t know how you feel, tell them,” Cael urged.

  Erith slowly turned to face him, his words slamming into her like a punch to the gut. Just as she thought, he was close. So very close.

  She saw the white flecks in his silver eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth. Finally, she said, “I can’t.”

  “They’re gone, then? I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes pricked with tears. “No.”

  The word came out of nowhere, of its own volition. Erith was shocked by the sound and terrified that Cael would push to know more.

  “No?” Cael asked, a brow arched. “They aren’t gone?”

  “No.” That damn word again. Not only couldn’t she control her emotions or say a little lie to save her heart, apparently, her mouth was also working on its own and giving away secrets.

  A frown furrowed Cael’s brow as his gaze searched her face. “Then why can’t you tell them?”

  She clenched her teeth together, refusing to give any sort of answer. She’d already said too much. Somehow, someway, Cael had no idea about the confession she’d made earlier when she said she couldn’t lose him. And that’s how she wanted to keep it.

  Didn’t she?

  Or . . . maybe. . . .

  No. Things had to stay as they were. It didn’t matter that he claimed not to love Corla.

  Aye, it most certainly does.

  For fek’s sake. It did. It really, really did. That was one of the reasons Erith had kept her distance from Cael, never letting him know of her feelings. One of a hundred different reasons.

  Because she didn’t want to be second best. She wanted a man who loved her—and only her—fiercely, ferociously, and without any barriers.

  Because that’s how Cael loved.

  “Erith?”

  Her name, spoken in that sensual voice that made her knees weak was all it took to break through the last of her willpower. She pressed back against the bookshelf in a last-ditch effort to keep her feelings hidden instead of leaning into Cael as she longed to do.

  “I’m Death,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I can’t have the one I want.”

  “If it were me, I’d take what I wanted. I’d move Heaven and Earth itself to get to her,” he declared vehemently. “Nothing and no one would stop me.”

  She blinked back tears as her stomach fluttered at his words. If only he were saying those things about her. “Take it?”

  “Aye,” he murmured, leaning closer.

  Her gaze carelessly dropped to his lips. Cael had the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen. Wide, full lips that should look out of place were the final, perfect piece to his gorgeous face.

  For the first time in . . . eons . . . she forgot that she was Death. Forgot what she was supposed to do and what she shouldn’t do. She allowed herself, for one instant, to just be a woman who craved the touch of the man she loved.

  Erith rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Cael’s. She held there for a heartbeat before moving away, but his arms snaked out and yanked her against him again.

  She gasped at the feel of his warm body, but he swallowed the sound as his mouth returned to hers. But he did more than just touch his lips to hers. He nibbled and licked, each kiss growing longer and deeper until, with a contented sigh, she leaned her head to the side as his tongue swept into her mouth.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The taste of her was sublime.

  Transcendent.

  Better than anything Cael could’ve dreamed of. And he was going to take his fill of her. Nothing could make him stop now.

  He groaned when her hands rested on his chest and seductively moved up and around his neck. Her fingers slid into his hair, her nails softly scraping his scalp. Desire had exploded the moment she put her lips on his.

  Now, it pounded through him, turning his blood to fire.

  He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but his efforts to keep their kisses reserved were failing. Not that she seemed to notice.

  Cael pressed her against the bookshelf, his hand against the back of her head to keep her from slamming it against anything. The way her tongue dueled with his made his
knees weak.

  But it was the feel of her breasts that had him achingly hard and yearning to thrust inside her, to claim her as his. It was all he dreamed about each time he closed his eyes, all he wanted.

  And, somehow, she was now in his arms.

  The kiss deepened, her soft moan filling his ears. He’d never craved, never yearned for anyone as he did Erith. The moment he’d seen her so very long ago while he was in the middle of battle and she’d stood on the sidelines, she had stolen his heart.

  It wasn’t until she came for him as he lay dying that he recognized the feeling within him—love.

  Her hand pushed against his shoulder as she tore her lips from his. With her head turned away and her breathing harsh and ragged, she whispered brokenly, “We can’t.”

  “Says who?” he demanded.

  His gaze was on her mouth, her lips wet and swollen from their kisses. Gradually, she looked at him, doubt filling her face. But it was the desire darkening her lavender eyes that he focused on.

  “Tell me you don’t want me,” Cael demanded. “Tell me you’re repulsed by my touch, and I’ll leave.”

  She gave a small shake of her head. “I can’t.”

  “Then kiss me again, Erith, or I might go up in flames right here, right now. I’ve wanted to do this for far too long. You’ve given me a taste. I need more.”

  She touched his lips with a shaky hand before meeting his gaze again. “This is folly,” she murmured huskily.

  “Nothing that feels this good can be bad.” He lowered his head, rubbing his cheek against hers. “Admit it. You want this. You need this.”

  He felt the brush of her lashes on his cheek as she closed her eyes. A warm rush of breath skimmed his ear when she sighed and sagged against him, her silent acquiescence that he was right.

  “I do want this,” she whispered.

  Elation swept through him. Cael lifted her into his arms and strode to her bedroom before she could change her mind. He set her down and cupped her face to kiss her deeply, thoroughly. If this were a dream, he hoped he never woke. Because the woman who held his heart was finally in his arms.