Reaper's Fire

by Katherine Bogle

  Copyright © 2020 by Katherine Bogle

  http://katherinebogle.com

  Cover Design by Katzilla Designs

  First Edition — 2020

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information browsing, storage, or retrieval system, without permission in writing from Katherine Bogle.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Join Kat’s Readers & Rebels

  About the Author

  Also by Katherine Bogle

  Chapter 1

  Two weeks ago, if you had told me supernaturals were real and I was one of them, I would have laughed and gone on with my day thinking you were crazy.

  Now?

  Crazy is the new normal. And despite all of the bizarre shit that’s happened to me lately, I still had a final project to finish if I wanted to complete my last semester of college and finally become a Graphic Designer. Go figure. When your life gets turned upside down, you still have to work if you don’t want to drown in student loans until you’re fifty.

  Hitting send on that email had never felt so good. Thanks to my awesome instructor, I was given an extra week to get my shit together. I did my exams from home—everything is online now anyway—and with my final project sent in, I could finally concentrate on what I was going to do with my life.

  Three quick raps at the door had me bolting out of my chair. I looked at the clock—seven PM—when did that happen?

  Damn. I should have been paying better attention to the time.

  I yanked on a pair of pajama shorts before heading to the door. I was growing the bad habit of hanging out in a t-shirt all day instead of getting dressed. Maybe I was getting too used to the hermit lifestyle.

  “Coming!” I shouted. I tripped over a pile of dirty laundry on the way out of my bedroom, just barely catching hold of the doorframe instead of face-planting into it. I groaned at my clumsy self and prayed Ryker hadn’t heard that.

  I shuffled through my small living room and into the even smaller kitchen. As soon as I unlocked the door and yanked it open, I knew my vampire friend had heard me. An amused smile was plastered to his irritatingly handsome face. Even after two weeks of seeing him everyday, I still wasn’t used to it.

  “Good evening,” Ryker said, his crisp British accent sending a tingle down my spine.

  Get it together, Clara, I commanded myself with a shake of my head.

  “Evening,” I replied shortly. Ryker chuckled as I stepped aside to let him through.

  “How are you?” he asked as he shrugged off his suit jacket. “Did you submit your project yet?”

  I glanced at the jacket lying across the back of my cheap kitchen chair. He only came over dressed up if he had business in town. What business, I still had no sweet clue. Ryker might be helping me control my hungry little demon, but all things Ryker related were still off-limits apparently.

  “I did,” I said. “The Reaper’s Lounge.”

  Ryker raised an eyebrow. “You named the start up ‘The Reaper’s Lounge’?” His lips twitched with amusement. At least someone appreciated my pointed humor.

  “Yep. I thought it was a little on the nose, but it worked.” I shrugged. At least one good thing had come from discovering I’m half-demon, from a species called Reapers. Before I’d found out I was majorly struggling with what to do for my final project.

  Ryker shook his head before beginning his usual inspection of my apartment. I always wondered what he was looking for, but learned not to ask after the time he announced the vampires that were after me might have planted some kind of spell to kill me.

  If I was going to be taken out by a spell I’d rather not know about it.

  “How was your day?” I asked, making a point of staring at his fancier than usual get up. I’m not complaining—the man looked damn good in a suit—but answers are nice too.

  “Fine,” Ryker said, giving me his usual answer.

  I barely resisted rolling my eyes as Ryker meandered through my apartment. Once he was done his inspection, he took a seat at my tiny kitchen table, dwarfing my furniture. He always sat there when he was ready to get down to business.

  I sighed and slowly took a seat across from him. I fidgeted with a loose string protruding from the bottom of my shorts, avoiding his eyes.

  “Are you ready to begin?” he asked.

  I swallowed thickly, nervous sweat collecting on the back of my neck. “Yeah.”

  “How was your night and morning? Any cravings?” Ryker always started with the same two questions. He wanted to know how I was handling my new found urge for blood and flesh—which we’d come to discover through Ryker’s research, is more of a symptom of my desire to harvest souls.

  Whoever designed Reapers this way was a fucking douchebag. Making us crave blood and flesh just so we’d be more willing to steal the souls of mortals? Straight up cruel.

  “No cravings since you last asked,” I said curtly.

  Ryker nodded. “That’s good. It means you don’t need blood or flesh to survive, unlike vampires.” We’d been comparing my state of being to a newborn vampire. Since Ryker realized I was actually a new Reaper and not just a Reaper with amnesia, his strategy had to change. Somehow, I thought this was easier for him. He understood being a new vampire because he’d been one before, and could draw on his experiences.

  I still didn’t know much about him, including how old he was. Ryker might look like a gorgeous thirty year old with long, brown, wavy hair, and a chiseled jaw that could cut stone, but he could be hundreds of years old for all I knew.

  “If you don’t need it to live, it should be easier to curb your cravings when you do scent it,” Ryker continued. “When you go out, you should make sure you eat beforehand. Stay as full as possible, and try to breathe through your mouth and not your nose.”

  “Hold the phone—I’m not going anywhere,” I said. My heartbeat sped up at the thought. All it’d take was one sniff of an open wound and I’d go Demon Bitch Mode. Or at least that’s what I’d been calling my demonic alter ego.

  Ryker sighed and gave me a sweet smile. “You’ll need to leave this apartment at some point.”

  “I know that,” I grumbled, avoiding his eyes. I knew I was acting like a petulant teen, but the last time I’d been in public I killed people.

  Ryker reached across the small round table and clutched my hand. His fingers were cold, but warmed the longer we touched. My nervous heart began to race faster for a whole other reason. Ever since my demon had awakened, more than a little something had shifted inside of me. It was like going through puberty again, but with real deadly symptoms.

  “I can go with you,” Ryker suggested, not for the first time. “We’ll go out at night when there aren’t many people around. I’ll keep you safe and stop you if anything goes wrong.”

  My whole body went stiff. Images of a bloody bar flashed in my mind, people torn open, ribs and internal organs on display. I shook my head and pulled my hand from his. “I’m not ready
yet.”

  Ryker’s jaw stiffened. “You might never feel ready, Clara.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I will. I just need more time.” Mostly to devise a plan to stop myself from smelling anything. I’d tried a few things so far, but there was only so much I had on hand. If I could get my hands on some kind of nasal spray, or Vicks, maybe I could use it to stop my sense of smell for hours at a time.

  “All right,” Ryker said. “Have you spoken to your friends? Your mother?”

  My eyes flashed open. This was new. “No,” I said tentatively.

  “They must be getting worried about you. You’ll need to see them eventually or they might show up when you least expect it.”

  He was right. He didn’t even know Jamie and Gloria—my two best friends from high school—but they’d show up any day if I didn’t start answering their texts with something more meaningful than gifs.

  “I’ll talk to them,” I said. Dread pooled inside my stomach, a heavy weight pressing down on me. I didn’t want to talk to them because I didn’t want them to sense anything amiss and come galloping over here like two white knights ready to save my ass. But if I didn’t straighten things out soon, they’d show up, and I’d be unprepared. One open wound is all it would take to tear down my defenses and bring the demon out of her cage. If Ryker wasn’t here when they did, they’d have no protection against me.

  “Good,” Ryker said. “Are you ready to try controlling your demon?”

  Cold washed over me, and that dread turned into lead in my stomach. “Y-Yeah.”

  “I know you don’t like letting her out, but if you can learn to control her, you’ll be able to leave your apartment without fear you’ll kill again.”

  I don’t know how this man could see right through me, but he was getting awfully good at it. I wanted to control the demon and go outside without fear of hurting people. I wanted a normal life. In the last two weeks, my life had become a frazzled mess. I’d turned in a huge work assignment late for the first time in my four years of college. I’d had to quit my job at Diamond Pub because I was afraid of killing people. I hadn’t even left my apartment for fear my demon would escape.

  Ryker had been kind enough to bring me groceries and come see me every day, but he wasn’t my guardian. Eventually, he wouldn’t be able to do those things for me anymore.

  What’s more, I should be able to do those things myself. I’m a grown ass adult lady, even if the last two weeks made me feel more like a child.

  I took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s do this.”

  Ryker nodded and plucked his suit jacket from the back of the chair. He pulled out a half-empty, plastic blood bag and placed it gently on the table. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  I stared down the dark red blood inside the bag. I couldn’t smell anything other than the faint whiff of coffee from this morning, and lemon from the cleaning products I used. Ryker was good at keeping the bags clean. He wouldn’t open it until I was ready.

  All right, Demon Bitch. Can we please get along this time?

  As usual, there was no response. I had no idea if my demon was a separate entity, or just a feral part I buried deep, but either way, she never answered my pleas.

  “Do it,” I said. I set my jaw and gripped the edge of the table so hard it squealed. One plus side of being half-Reaper—I was strong as hell.

  Ryker met my gaze. In the dim light of my third-story apartment, I could almost imagine his eyes were simply brown, instead of the deep red color I knew them to be. He’d look human if it weren’t for his otherworldly beauty and pale as death skin.

  Copper burst through the air, sucking every other scent from the room. Nothing else mattered but that sweet smell. My grip on the table tightened, the iron groaning as it bent beneath my hands.

  I desperately gasped in air through my mouth, but it was as if I could already taste the blood on my tongue. I began my internal mantra, trying to hold onto me and not lose myself to the demon possessing me.

  Your name is Clara O’Connor. You’re a graphic design student about to graduate. Your best friends are Gloria Hernandez and Jamie Winslow. Your mother is Margaret O’Connor, ER nurse and badass single mom.

  My head spun as my body heated. My skin burned like fire raced across it, and my throat went as dry as the Sahara.

  “You’re doing great, Clara,” Ryker said.

  I could barely hear his deep, rumbling voice over the pounding in my ears. My head throbbed with my heartbeat, and my teeth tingled as some of them descended into points—perfect for tearing flesh apart.

  I gasped in a breath as the smell wafted up my nose again. Bloody images flashed before my eyes. But as much as I hated it, and loathed the monster I was becoming, that Demon Bitch reared her head with an internal roar that rattled my bones.

  “Keep holding her back,” Ryker urged. “Think of your mother. You’d never want to hurt her.”

  “Never,” I hissed around my lengthened teeth, awkward in my mouth.

  I imagined my mom on duty at the ER. I’d watched her many times when I was little and had nowhere to go after school. She’d always find me a great seat at the edge of the room, near reception where her coworker Stew gave me lollipops and played games with me on his breaks. In my mind, I watched my mom rushing across the ER as a gunshot victim was rushed in on a gurney. She’d never wavered, never even blinked at the sight of all that blood. Her brow was always stern, and her jaw set with determination. My mother could take on the world.

  Picturing Mom calmed me a little. I just had to focus on her. If I could stay focused, then maybe I could beat the monster back.

  “Yes, that’s it!” Ryker grinned like he’d won a prize.

  My lips twitched slightly. I wanted to smile back and share in our victory, but heat was still burning across my skin and into my stomach. A hollow feeling opened up in my belly, a hunger that could only be sated by one thing.

  I glanced down at the blood bag clutched in Ryker’s hand. It smelled so good—like life and wine and chocolate all rolled into one. I wanted to drown in it, bathe in it, revel in the taste and smell. I wanted to consume it for the rest of eternity.

  “Clara?” Ryker’s forehead creased with worry.

  My throat tightened and pain tore through me as my Reaper clawed for the surface. I wanted it so badly I could taste it. My hand darted out of its own accord, but Ryker was faster. He pulled the bag back before I could grab it, pushing to his feet in the same moment.

  Now he’d deny me it?

  The thought was mine, but it didn’t feel like me. It tore through me with such ferocity that I leapt to my feet with a snarl and lunged across the table to grab for the life nectar.

  Ryker slammed into the kitchen wall. I reached for the bag in his hand but he held it high over my head. I lunged for it, but with our height difference, I’d have to scale his muscled body to reach it.

  I ground my teeth as I desperately clawed at his arm, trying to gain a hold of him and pull it back down.

  “Clara, stop this,” Ryker snapped. “You can fight it. Get ahold of yourself.”

  I reached and leapt and grabbed, but I couldn’t quite make it. Frustration boiled over and I snapped my hand out to reach into the void where my scythe lay. If he’d deny me sustenance than I’d cut his arm off and take it.

  Before I could tear through reality and find my weapon, Ryker snapped up both of my wrists and spun me around, pushing me up against the wall. Instead of his back thrust up against the peeling wallpaper, it was mine, my hands suspended above me, and his hard body pressing against every inch of me.

  I inhaled sharply. Despite my frayed state, a heat of an entirely different kind washed over my senses and made me squirm.

  “Clara, come back,” he said. He searched my eyes, but I couldn’t hold his gaze. His irises looked too much like blood, and it sent my mind spiraling all over again.

  I writhed beneath him, twisting my wrists and bucking my hips to get him off o
f me, but no matter what I did, Ryker wouldn’t budge. He grunted every time I moved my hips, but his grip was steel and I might as well be water washing off of him. I was ineffective against his massive stature and sheer strength.

  “Release me,” I demanded, panting from the exertion.

  Ryker moved, though from my position I couldn’t tell what exactly he was doing. He reached for the blood bag and I licked my lips. I bucked hard, but then the smell of blood was cut off.

  My nostrils flared as I inhaled deeply, but the smell was so faint that I whined. The heat faded from my skin, and slowly I got my breath back. I was tired and dizzy by the time Demon Bitch relinquished her hold on me.

  I leaned my head back against the wall, and met Ryker’s gaze. “I failed.”

  Ryker sighed, his warm breath brushing my face. I stiffened, finally realizing the hold I was in. My cheeks burned and my eyes widened. Ryker’s face was inches from mine, and with the whole length of him pressed up against me, I had a pretty good idea of what Ryker looked like without clothes on. Were all vampires this ripped?

  “Um,” I mumbled. My legs were jelly all of a sudden, warmth and an unfamiliar desire to fill the space between my thighs spreading over me. “You can let me go now.”

  Stupid, Clara! Why would you say that?!

  Him letting me go was possibly the last thing in the world I wanted.

  Ryker smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. Shit, I’m caught. Slowly, he released my wrists. His hands traveled down my sides until they rested on my hips. He didn’t ask, but I saw the challenge in his eyes asking ‘Are you sure?’

  I bit my lip on a groan. No, I wasn’t sure, but there were still so many unanswered questions between us that I didn’t think I could do this right now.