Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Pleasure, vast and bright, rips through me, setting me ablaze. It's exquisite, an intense rush of desire burning right to my core. I get lost in him and the kiss, forgetting everything.
"Solsken," he breathes against my lips. "Ah, solsken. You have no idea what you do to me."
I press closer, eager for more. My tongue slips into his mouth, touching his this time. His rumbling growl sends another wave of pleasure through me. I tremble in his arms, aching to feel this Fae all over me in a way I've never experienced.
My eyes flutter open.
"Reaper, I…" I don't know what I intend to say. There's so much flitting through my mind, a million emotions fighting for dominion. But I want his hands on my body with nothing standing between us.
Something shifts at the far edge of the clearing, drawing my attention before I'm able to sort through the mess to tell him that. It's the shadow of a man, stepping out from beneath the trees. I blush at the thought of one of the Fae having seen us in such an intimate moment…only for my stomach to clench.
He isn't Fae. My instincts scream at me as fear and revulsion surge through me in tandem. I feel them beating in my chest like the wings of a bird desperately trying to escape.
"Forsaken!" I cry, grasping onto Reaper's shoulders. Evil pulses through the soulless demon as if it's alive. I feel it choking me. "The Forsaken are here!"
I'd recognize that pale, almost translucent skin, and the malevolent, yellow eyes anywhere. Even if that didn't give it away, his twisted mouth and misshapen nose do. So does the Darkness clinging to the air around him, writhing and contorting as if in a frenetic dance.
Reaper's eyes snap open, blazing with an intensity that's as beautiful as it is ferocious. A savage, deadly snarl rips from his throat, the sound bouncing back from the trees like the warning growl of a dangerous animal.
"Move behind me, Tori," he orders, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my bones.
I want to argue as the horrible images from my nightmare surge forward in an ugly parade. The Forsaken murdered him. I felt him die, our connection severed forever. But he's the warrior here. I'm useless, incapable of protecting myself, let alone him.
With a fluid movement that speaks of countless battles and centuries of war, he jumps in front of me, placing himself between me and the enemy. Prepared to die to protect me if that's what it takes.
Please, God, protect him. Keep him safe.
The air around us crackles with energy as he draws on his power like his brother did earlier. A shimmering blade of pure Light materializes in his hand, as fierce and unyielding as the Fae who called it.
He stands tall and formidable, the living embodiment of war and destruction, but he's also my defender, my protector, his loyalty as unwavering as the mountain itself. Each muscle in his body tenses like a coiled spring, ready to unleash its devastating power.
I clutch at the fabric of his shirt, my fingers digging into the soft material. My heart thumps against my ribcage, matching the rhythmic flickers of Light pulsing from his lyststål.
"I trust you," I whisper, my words carried away by the chill winds of fate.
Reaper doesn't respond, but I know he hears me.
Shouts rip through the night, violently splitting it apart. The distant sounds of fighting bounce back from the trees, echoing through the darkness.
Eitr is under attack.
"What do you want, Forsaken?" Reaper's voice rumbles like distant thunder, his body coiled, ready to strike.
The Forsaken sneers, a twisted grin spreading over his face. "I'm here for the Valkyrie. Hand her over and we may leave your little village standing."
A shiver rips through me at the thought of being captured by these soulless monsters again. Once was enough to last a lifetime.
With a feral snarl, Reaper lunges forward, his lyststål slicing through the air with deadly precision. The Forsaken counters with dark magic, black tendrils of smoke snaking toward Reaper like malevolent vines. They writhe and contort as if they're alive. And perhaps they are.
The Light bends to our will because it's benevolent. But the Dark has always had a mind of its own, twisting and corrupting everything it touches. Those who deal in evil don't control it. Darkness holds the reins. It always has. I learned that in church. Regardless of what you call God, the basics remain the same. Light is Light…and Dark is Dark.
Reaper moves with the grace and fluidity of a dancer, his lithe body effortlessly dodging and weaving. I can't take my eyes off him. His dark hair glints in the moonlight, his fierce features illuminated by the faint glow of the stars above. Even now, when death swirls around him like a promise, he's undeniably beautiful.