Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
Hayden
“ I didn’t.” I could die of embarrassment. Although the death part isn’t as funny with a literal reaper carrying me when I’m finally able to touch him, to feel him the same as though my fantasies have become reality. But still? I said that in front of an actual demon prince?
“You most certainly did.”
This is a thousand times worse than Good Time Glenda finding my latest monster smut art.
Deflect ! I can’t dwell on my mortification, or I’ll become an awkward, rambling mess.
Instead, I say, “Let’s get back to why you needed to build a protection ward, which oh my god, I’ve never seen a real one. Or maybe how you think me signing a demon contract was your fault?”
He moves to put me down, and I hate the separation. I tighten my hold on him, forcing him not to let go, and I’m rewarded by the deep violet thrum of the magical core he once told me sits at the heart of his shadows. I’m guessing by his reaction that he likes me snuggling close and being a needy girlfriend.
Good, because I’m about to be the clingiest boo ever if he thinks I’m going to stay in the van while he wages war against those ghost beasties inside the house.
Although he could leave the dog with me. Preferably the one-headed, fluffy version, but the other could be cute in his own weird way.
“I set the wards before I left because the revenants are attracted to human souls,” he says, tackling what I imagine to be the easier of the questions first. “They would drive you and any other human they touch insane and suicidal within moments.”
“Okay, that’s bad.” A thousand questions about them circle in my mind, but I put a pin in those for now. “And the contract?”
He doesn’t wear his magical skull mask so I can see his face, but with the shadows and the hood, he’s hard to read. His eyes have no pupils so I have to judge by the shade of magic shining through the openings in his shadows. Luckily, he doesn’t flash his mouth full of fangs. So at least he’s not pissed, just annoyed.
Fine, he can be annoyed.
I distract myself from the discomfort of studying him like he’s an architectural masterpiece by wrapping his arms—does he call them arms? Because they feel like arms.—around me and waiting not so patiently until he answers. Other than his shadowy cloak and hood, my reaper rocks the look of Slender Man’s tentacle action with hints of the broad shoulders and a solid chest I’ve felt in my dreams. Those shadows aren’t wisps. They’re solid beneath my fingers, and I can’t stop touching him. No matter how alphahole withholding of information he’s acting.
“First,” he says, “you have to promise not to step outside the wards without me, and you cannot under any circumstances go inside the house.”
“Nuh uh, you don’t get to avoid the question, and I’m getting inside that house because whatever else was in the demon’s bargain, I agreed to give him its history within the next month.”
“There is no human history to the construction of this house. Or at least not one that isn’t woven with magic.”
“Damnit, I don’t even know how to process what you just said except that demon bastard still better pay up to the charity.”
“Oh, he will. I’ll make sure of that.”
“The contract? The whole luring thing?” When his magical heart fades to lavender-grey, I add, “Oh no, those were your words. I’m just repeating them back to you.” When he stays quiet, I soften my tone. “Don’t I deserve an explanation for why I’m here? How you’re here?”
“Remember when I told you we are fated mates?”
“Like in romance novels.” I can’t help but think of my latest drawing of him. “I remember.”
“We are destined to be together. Theodopolis is a matchmaker—the best matchmaker. He confirmed we’re fated mates and agreed to have you enter into a matching contract if I would clear the house of the revenants. I should have been here when you woke this morning.”
Oookay, so I have to ask one more question before we get back to the demon thing. “Where did you go?” Because honestly, why’d he leave me on his very first day of us being able to be together?
“I was tracking down the remaining lairs of the necromancer who created the revenants.”
I can’t argue with him trying to save the world from creatures who can drive humans insane and ultimately lead to terrifying deaths.
He keeps going. “If I can cut off their creation, then I will limit them to the ones already trapped inside the house or with a direct connection to it. It’s the only way I’ll be able to rend them all in a month.”
“Rend?” What was it Good Time Glenda said before she vanished? “Render?”
“Yes.” At my confused look, he continues, “I thought I’d told you.”
“Nope, can safely say you’ve never used that word around me.” Or I would’ve recognized it before my ghost friend disappeared.
“I’m a Render.”
“You’re a reaper.” Yeah, I feel stupid arguing with him about who or what he is, but seriously…our whole first encounter at my death, the hood, the flowing robe of shadows—it all adds up to reaper. Plus, he’s definitely mentioned being a reaper before. “That’s how we met. Not a storybook meet cute, but it worked out, right?”
His magical heart pulses violet again, and his mouth twists into a smirk. “I would say it has more than worked out.”
Oh god, if he keeps talking like that, I’ll forget any of my questions about demons and ghosts so we can cut straight to the sexy times. “A Render?” My voice comes out breathy. Yep, gonna need to skip the talking and see if my Shadow Daddy won’t reenact one of our best nights from the lengthy highlights reel playing in my head.
“It’s not pretty. I tear apart souls of those condemned to a fate worse than damnation.”
“But not…normal ghosts?” I realize it’s not normal to discuss any ghosts, but hey, I’m talking to my reaper or Render boyfriend.
“No. Never the soul of a human.” He tightens his grip on me for a moment. “Most reapers spend their lives guiding the dead to the Bridge of Souls so they can cross to the other side with the help of the gargoyle queen.”
Who created a bridge worthy of transporting souls? Is it a tangible bridge like we have in the human world or more of an imaginary construct? Is it made of beams, cables, or arches? While I’m still fighting my need to demand an answer to design questions, my mind races to a more troubling issue. “Wait, did I go to this bridge? Did they reject me? I don’t remember meeting any gargoyles.”
“I was supposed to take you, but I couldn’t let you go.” He slides a shadow through my hair and along the nape of my neck. “There was an emergency in the After Worlds, and I filled in for a regular reaper that night. The Fates truly meant for us to meet. Normally, I only work special ops.”
“A warrior reaper?”
“As close to that as my kind have.”
“Oh my god, my guy’s the Seal Team Six of reapers.”
“Yours?” The violet deep within his chest flickers to a dangerous, dark shade, but before I can ask why, he speaks again, “I signed a deal with a demon to have a chance of being together with you in this realm.”
“I thought it was about you agreeing to clear the house of revenants.”
He slides his shadows along my collarbone and lower. “For a chance to touch you, I would’ve agreed to anything. For a chance at forever together, I would’ve torn the souls of anyone apart. I have no boundaries when it comes to loving you.”
My brain goes to absolute mush. I can’t remember why we talked instead of jumping each other on first sight. Given his crazy I’ll Rend The World For You speech, the heat of his shadows tracing my breast and then dipping inside my top should not be making my heart beat faster. And I should absolutely not be wondering what happens if Idrag him against a horizontal surface. A vertical surface. Hell, in midair if he’s willing and able to make my fantasies a reality.
I suck in a breath as his shadow moves down and over the curve of my hip.
This is my Shadow Daddy, my reaper, my mate.
Mate?
Fated mate, yes.
“Prove it,” I whisper.
He teases me, his shadows playing along my jaw, the curve of my breast, hiking up my dress to brush the edge of my panties. His mouth comes close enough to brush my ear in the softest whisper, his fangs a delicate graze over my skin. His touch is barely there and yet my skin comes alive. The dark magic of him being against me makes me forget everything except for my reaper.
“Say yes,” he says on a growl. His mouth closes over mine. This kiss isn’t gentle, isn’t teasing. It’s all tongue and fangs. The scrape of his fangs across my bottom lip sends another spike of heat straight to my core. “Tell me to make your sketch a reality.”
My breath catches in my throat, my head fuzzy with hormones and want and need . “Wh…what?”
“Your art. The way you drew us together. You looked so gorgeous in the throes of climax, a mirror of the look I love when I bring you to orgasm again and again. You crave that pleasure now, don’t you?”
I can’t even work up the energy to be embarrassed he’s seen my very intimate artwork of us in our most erotic moments. I’m so wrapped up in him I can only say one word.
“Yes.”