Dark Alpha's Awakening--A Reaper Novel

by Donna Grant

  She lifted her chin, resolve building within her. “No. We won’t.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  This was Hell. Xaneth was sure of it.

  He walked among the Dark gathered behind the mansion. The beautiful garden had been destroyed. The grass trampled, the flowerbed ripped apart from the battle, and blood was everywhere.

  Xaneth had thought he’d seen all there was to see of the Fae while living between both the Light and Dark. Now, he was getting a glimpse of another side—a side he didn’t like.

  He was one of five new recruits to Bran’s army. Out of them, he was the only Fae who hadn’t been taken against his will.

  His gaze scanned the faces of the Dark. They were rabid with savagery, their bloodlust running higher than anything he’d ever witnessed before. If any of them had been abducted, they were content where they were now.

  Xaneth had been in all kinds of situations before. Hell, he’d faced the Queen of the Light, but even he wasn’t prepared for this. And that worried him. Because he might have stepped into a setting that he couldn’t get out of.

  His ego had put him here. He’d believed that he could sort through any situation, but he hadn’t listened carefully enough to the Reapers. Otherwise, he would’ve realized that he was out of his depth. In order to survive, he would have to learn.

  Fast.

  He’d been trying to find Cael ever since the Reaper had given himself up to Bran. Even Xaneth had known that was a bad idea, but Cael had done it so the other two Reapers could get away.

  The fact that Bran allowed Talin and Neve to go troubled Xaneth. Especially since Bran had made it clear to his army that his goal was to capture the women the Reapers had. Bran had something in store for Cael, and it couldn’t be good if he’d willingly released a female.

  When the group Bran had sent to the Reaper stronghold returned emptyhanded, Bran had lashed out at everyone in his fury. That’s how badly Bran wanted the women.

  The Fae around Xaneth suddenly let out a loud cheer. He saw them looking up and followed suit to find Bran standing on a terrace, looking down at them from the second floor of the manor.

  The would-be leader of the Dark army wore a black suit with purple lining. His shoulder-length black hair was pulled back in a queue. But it was the delight in Bran’s silver eyes as he looked down at them all that sent a warning chill down Xaneth’s back.

  He’d spent a lot of time with the Dark Fae and had had dealings with some of the most dangerous of them. But none of them—not even Balladyn—came close to the evil Xaneth saw in Bran’s eyes.

  Bran might have lived and died a Light Fae, but something must have been done to him when he became a Reaper that prevented him from changing to Dark. Because the one thing Xaneth knew how to spot was a Dark Fae.

  And Bran was most definitely Dark—even if his coloring didn’t show it.

  Bran didn’t use glamour. And that’s how Xaneth knew it must have something to do with the fact that Bran used to be a Reaper. Xaneth intended to ask Cael about it as soon as he could get close enough to him to do so.

  Bran held out his hands, quieting the army. He rested his palms on the stone railing and smiled as he looked over the crowd. “I’d hoped we would be celebrating capturing the Reapers’ women. Instead, the next one on my list has now fallen into my hands. Cael, leader of the Reapers.”

  More cheers went up as Cael was led out onto the terrace with a thick metal collar around his throat, connected to a chain that Searlas held.

  Xaneth cringed when he saw the state of Cael’s face. Reaper or not, he’d taken quite the beating from both fists and magic. The wounds were healing, but the blood was there for all to see, and it incited the Dark army.

  “Cael is just the first step in our conquering of the Reapers!” Bran yelled over the noise. He raised his hand again for silence. “For too long, the Fae have stood in fear of Death and the Reapers. No more. We’re going to take back that power.”

  Xaneth could well imagine that this was similar to what Usaeil had said before she slaughtered her family—his family. And while Xaneth didn’t know much about the Reapers, he knew enough to know that Death was fair in her judgments. Bran wouldn’t be the same.

  A ball of magic formed in Bran’s hand. It was a deep, dark purple. Xaneth had never seen anything like it before, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it did.

  The thought ran through his mind an instant before Bran turned and slammed his hand—and the orb of magic—into Cael’s chest.

  Xaneth hid his grunt as Cael doubled over. His groan of pain brought a round of laughter from the Dark. With a motion of Bran’s hand, two Fae straightened Cael to show the burnt patch of skin, the flesh eaten away to show Cael’s ribcage.

  “This is the start!” Bran said to the group, holding his hand straight up into the air.

  Xaneth clapped with the others, but all the while, one thought kept going through his mind—Bran had to be stopped. He knew it just as he knew that Usaeil’s reign had to be ended. It was a good thing that Bran and Usaeil hadn’t met because the two of them teaming up would be catastrophic.

  Xaneth’s thoughts came to a halt as the Dark released Cael. The Reaper leader’s legs couldn’t hold him, and he crumpled to the ground. Searlas sneered at the Reaper while everyone else laughed.

  But all Xaneth felt was revulsion and anger. Both directed at himself for even considering joining Bran in his war against the Reapers.

  “Where are the new recruits?” Bran inquired.

  Xaneth stilled, dread going through him as he hoped that no one would point to him. One of the other four was hauled into the house by two Dark and led up to the terrace, all the while struggling against the others. Xaneth strained to hear what Bran told the Fae before he clasped the Dark’s arm.

  Almost instantly, the fearful Fae who’d just a moment ago had no desire to join Bran, changed into a rage-filled Dark who only wanted to kill. That’s when Xaneth realized that Bran was giving everyone a little of his magic. Only Bran was sharing his malevolence, as well.

  Xaneth hadn’t counted on anything like this, and he wanted no part of it. In fact, the sheer idea of it terrified him. If he thought he could leave, he might try it. But he couldn’t. Not just because Bran no doubt had something in place to prevent it, but because this was bigger than the trepidation Xaneth felt. This was about the way of life for not just the Fae, but every being on every realm—because that’s how far Bran would take it if he won.

  Xaneth had no desire to be turned, but he had a feeling there was no way to get out of it. He looked around and forced a smile. With the amount of Fae near him, it would be easy to get lost in such a mass. All he had to do was act like them. Maybe then, Bran would overlook him.

  It was a big gamble, but what other choice did he have? If Bran gave him some of his magic, he would no longer be who he was. His desire to bring down his aunt would no longer drive him. And that just couldn’t happen.

  Xaneth took on the enraged expression of the others and began cheering just as loudly as them. One by one, the other three Fae who had been kidnapped were altered. Bran and his men searched the crowd for anyone not like the others.

  Xaneth realized that the hunt wouldn’t end until he showed himself. If he were going to spy, then he had to get close to Bran. In order to do that, he had to gain the maniac’s trust. It was something he’d done countless other times. It was second nature.

  With a deep breath, Xaneth shouldered his way through the others and came to stand at the front of the group. He looked up at Bran and simply stared. Bran’s gaze held his for a long moment before he motioned Xaneth up.

  Xaneth made his way to Bran on the terrace, hoping with every step that he maintained his thoughts and control after Bran shared his magic. Unfortunately, if the others were any indication, the chances of that were slim.

  Finally, Xaneth stood before Bran. The ex-Reaper regarded him for a long minute. Xaneth was cognizant of how close Searlas and the other
Dark were, but more than that, he was acutely aware of Cael just a few steps behind him.

  “So,” Bran said, “you’re the one who asked to join my army.”

  Xaneth nodded. “You really think so many Dark can go missing without others becoming aware of what’s going on? Perhaps for a little while, but eventually, someone takes notice.”

  “And that someone was you?” Bran asked, brows raised.

  Xaneth grinned, not at all duped by Bran’s deceptively calm words. “Actually, it was the king. I simply overheard some guards talking and realized that there was a way for me to actually do something other than hunting humans.”

  Silver eyes stared hard at Xaneth, trying to see through any lies. But Xaneth had learned to live off his lies—and use expert glamour to hide his Light coloring. No one had caught him yet.

  “It’s been some time since I’ve had a Dark willingly join me.” Bran clasped his hands behind his back. “Is it what you expected?”

  “More than I could’ve hoped,” Xaneth replied. He felt the probing of Bran’s magic in search of any glamour. But being a royal came with some perks, and that included powerful magic.

  “I’m glad you’ve seen the possibilities of what I’m doing. It’s always better to have someone wanting to join rather than forcing them.”

  Xaneth glanced down at the army. “They look more than ready to do your bidding.”

  “That they do. Come.” Bran beckoned by holding out his hand. “Take your reward.”

  This could either get him closer to Bran, or it could all blow up in Xaneth’s face. The endless centuries of hiding from Usaeil might have been for nothing. He’d wanted to join Bran so he could help Balladyn take down the queen. No wonder the Reapers had told Xaneth it was a bad idea.

  For fek’s sake. What had he gotten himself into?

  There was no other choice for him. Xaneth grasped Bran’s hand. A wash of ice ran from his palm, up his arm, and then through his body. He felt the swell of power almost instantly, and to his delight, he found that he was still very much himself.

  Bran jerked him closer and grabbed Xaneth’s shoulder with his free hand, squeezing tightly. “Welcome to our family. You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

  “I expected nothing less.”

  Bran grunted and tightened his fingers around Xaneth’s hand. Then he released him and stepped back.

  Xaneth turned and found his gaze clashing with Cael’s. There was a split second where the Reaper let his disgust and fury show before it was masked.

  Xaneth couldn’t believe that had gone as well as it had. He walked away, not wanting to press his luck or get asked any more questions. He idly walked the manor while Cael was hauled away somewhere. While he wanted to see where they took Cael, he knew he was likely being watched.

  Just as he expected, it wasn’t long before Searlas caught up with him.

  “Can I help you?” Xaneth asked the second in command, who stared at him.

  “Don’t think I didn’t see you earlier when we surrounded the Reapers.”

  Xaneth shrugged. “What about it? I finally came face-to-face with one. I was curious.”

  “Do you want a closer look?”

  All his instincts screamed that this was a test of sorts. Or a trap. Shite. “Sure.”

  “Follow me.”

  Xaneth trailed behind Searlas as the Dark took him out of the mansion to a building at the back of the house. It was meant to be a guesthouse but had now become Cael’s prison.

  Xaneth casually noted the number of Fae on guard and the amount of magic coming off the building. The moment Xaneth stepped over the threshold, he felt the wards that enclosed the structure. It was Dark magic, but even more malevolent, more wicked—and more controlling—than any he’d felt before.

  The only other being who had such powerful magic was Death, and since Bran was syphoning from her, it was no wonder he was so strong.

  They stopped before Cael, who was secured against a wall with his arms above his head and his legs spread wide. Even captured, there was defiance in Cael’s eyes.

  “He’s mine to torture as much as I want,” Searlas told Xaneth. “And after what was done to me by Fintan, I’m going to take pleasure in this. We can’t kill him, but we can hurt Cael. And I plan on doing a lot of damage until Bran executes him. I know Bran has something special planned just for Death.”

  Xaneth forced a laugh, nodding in excitement when Searlas looked his way. He kept a smile on his lips as the Dark began throwing magic at Cael, aiming straight for the Reaper’s chest that had yet to heal.

  This wasn’t the first—or the last—time Xaneth had seen such torment, but it was harder to watch this time. Maybe because he knew it was Cael. Or it could be because he knew the stakes were higher than they’d ever been.

  “Want a turn?”

  Xaneth shot his gaze to Searlas, his stomach tightening at the question. He had a part to play, and that meant doing everything in his power to ensure that he got close enough to Bran to extract the information Balladyn needed. But to hurt Cael? Xaneth wasn’t sure he could.

  He’d thought Bran was the winning team. In fact, Bran probably was, but the longer Xaneth was around him and the others, the more he knew that it was imperative he do everything he could to help the Reapers.

  So he wouldn’t just be spying for the King of the Dark. He was going to do it for Death, as well. Xaneth could only hope that he came out of all of it alive. But if he didn’t, then he was doing something for someone other than himself. For once.

  Then again, this was another test. And he didn’t intend to fail.

  He smiled at Searlas. “I’d love to.”

  The Dark stepped aside. Cael’s fists were clenched tightly, his body straining against the pain, but not once had he cried out. The wound Bran had inflicted was ugly and gaping, and all the Reaper could do was stand there and bear every blow dealt him.

  Until he got free.

  When that happened, Xaneth knew Bran and the others would feel the full force of Cael’s retribution. Not to mention when the other Reapers and Death joined in. It was going to be an epic battle.

  Xaneth walked up to Cael, careful to keep his face blank of any emotion. Searlas had shifted to the side to watch him, but Xaneth wasn’t that stupid. He might want to let Cael know that he was on his side, but that would have to come later after he’d earned some trust.

  Hopefully, the Reaper would still be alive then.

  Xaneth pulled back his hand and punched Cael in the jaw. The Reaper’s head snapped to the side. Slowly, Cael turned his face forward and glared at Xaneth.

  With everything inside him yelling No! Xaneth formed a ball of magic and reared his arm back, throwing it so that half of it hit Cael, while the other half slammed into the wall.

  The sight of the Reaper leader’s body jerking from the agony was heartbreaking. Knowing that he was adding to Cael’s pain only made it worse. If Xaneth somehow lived through this, he would spend the rest of his life making it up to Cael somehow.

  Searlas laughed and bade, “Again.”

  Chapter Twenty

  He was going to kill Xaneth.

  And it wouldn’t be a quick death.

  Cael had truly believed that the Fae would join them. How could he have been so wrong about Xaneth? Cael was usually a better judge of character, and after fighting alongside Xaneth and Eoghan against Usaeil, he’d discovered just how strong the royal Fae’s magic was.

  His thoughts halted for a moment when pain lashed through his body as the torture continued, adding to the agony from the orb Bran had hit him with. Cael let his mind wander while Searlas and Xaneth had their fun.

  While their magic hurt, the real agony was in the wound delivered by the purple orb Bran had slammed into him earlier. Just thinking about it made Cael nauseous. He wasn’t sure what was in the ball of power, but he needed to warn the other Reapers to prepare for it.

  Cael didn’t know how long they tortured him. The pain became
so agonizing that he let his mind go to the one place that would soothe him—to memories of Erith.

  He relived every second of their day together. Every word, every sigh, every touch, every cry of pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so real, so perfect, as during those few precious hours. It had surpassed all of Cael’s fantasies and dreams.

  And in that time, he could believe that Erith was his.

  He was so deep in his mind that it took him a while to realize that something was different. When he pulled himself back to the present, he saw that the torture had stopped for the moment. Searlas was gone, leaving Xaneth alone with him.

  There were many things he wanted to say to Xaneth, but Cael didn’t bother. The Fae had made his choice. Cael had survived too long on his own to know what it meant to belong to a group he could trust.

  That’s where Cael had gone wrong. He hadn’t shown Xaneth everything the Reapers had to offer. Cael had believed after fighting together that Xaneth would see who they were and readily join them.

  For Death to win, it meant that either Xaneth or the as yet unidentified Dark from his vision had to be on their side. They’d lost Xaneth, but there was still a chance for the unknown Fae. Except Cael had been captured. The others would look, but they had no idea what to look for.

  But Cael didn’t regret giving himself up so that Talin and Neve could get away. The way Bran had looked at Neve with such glee had made Cael’s stomach twist with revulsion.

  Bran wouldn’t just kill the women the Reapers loved. He wouldn’t just torture them either. He would inflict the most heinous kind of agony, prolonging their deaths to make the Reapers suffer as long as he could.

  There was no way Cael would allow Bran to get his hands on Neve or any of the others. Not now, not ever. Even if it meant Cael died. It would be worth it to keep the women safe. It was his duty to his Reapers, and a promise that he’d made to them.

  When he offered to hand himself over to Bran, he’d been surprised that the ex-Reaper had agreed so quickly. Then he’d realized that it was exactly what Bran had wanted. By the time Cael comprehended that, it was too late. The deed had already been done.