Dark Alpha's Demand: A Reaper Novel (Reapers) (11 page)

Talin rushed to Neve, catching her before she could hit the ground. He lowered them to the floor. Already, she was gasping for breath. Though he wanted to kill Atris, Talin let the others attempt to catch him while he held on to the love of his life.

“Neve,” he whispered and caressed her face. Time was running out, quickly. He swallowed past the lump of emotion in his throat. “I love you. I should’ve told you before.”

She smiled, but any words she might’ve said were gone as the life faded from her eyes.

Talin couldn’t move. He held Neve close, unable to believe that Atris had fooled them all and killed his sister. Had it been Bran’s plan all along?

It had been Talin’s secret hope that Rhi would be able to take Neve somewhere they could never reach her. But he’d known how futile that was. Death could find anyone at any time. There was no hiding from her.

None of that mattered now. Neve was gone, regardless.

She hadn’t deserved this. None of her family had. The blame lay with Bran, and Talin was going to make him pay. He wasn’t going to kill Bran quickly. He wanted the son of a bitch to suffer for eternity.

Kyran put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Talin. Atris got away.”

Rhi squatted beside him. “Talin, I know someone who can help. They can bring someone back from the dead. I’ll ask him.”

There was a shimmer in the air and Death appeared before them. Her midnight locks were loose, hanging to her waist. Her sleeveless gown was solid black with a high neck and a long train.

“How the hell are all of you getting through my spells?” Rhi demanded, affronted.

Death turned to Rhi. “It’s not time for us to meet yet.”

“That’s too fecking bad,” she retorted.

Rhi was too busy being indignant to realize that Daire had moved behind her. With a wave of Death’s hand, Rhi was unconscious. Daire caught her, lifting her in his arms.

“She won’t remember anything to do with Reapers when she wakes,” Erith said.

“Is that wise?” Cael asked. “She’s going to be pissed when she eventually figures it out.”

“It’s not time,” was Death’s reply. “Daire, take Rhi back to her island.”

And with that, Daire was gone.

Talin didn’t bother to hide his anger when he raised his gaze to Death as she squatted before him. “You got what you wanted. Neve is dead.”

“You’re mistaken if you think I wanted this.”

He looked into her lavender eyes and snorted. “They’re your rules. You were going to make sure Neve died one way or another.”

“I didn’t send her brother to betray her, Talin.” Erith held his gaze. “You know that.”

So he did. He needed an outlet, and that’s exactly what Death was. Someone had to feel the wrath of his pain. Who better, than the one person who could take it?

Death put her hand atop one of his. “Reapers are chosen when they’ve been betrayed. Neve was betrayed by her brother and Bran.”

Talin blinked. Was Erith saying what he thought she was saying? It was too much hope for him to deal with if he was wrong.

“I can bring her back,” Death said.

Talin squeezed his eyes closed and hugged Neve’s body. “As a Reaper?”

“It’s the only way you can be with her now.”

Eternity alone.

Or an eternity with Neve.

But to have her as a Reaper taking lives . . . Talin and the others had lived some of that life before Death offered them roles. Neve hadn’t.

Would she be able to handle it? She was strong mentally, but that didn’t mean she would be up to the challenge of taking lives. It would change her, harden her.

His sweet, beautiful Neve.

But to never look into her eyes again. To never hold her hand or feel her body against his. To never hear her laughter—or her cries of pleasure.

How stupid Talin felt for thinking he could give himself to one such as Neve and walk away when his mission was finished. His heart had known he wouldn’t be able to leave her.

His brain was just now catching up.

Yet Bran had taken that choice from him. Bran had taken choices from all of them, but mostly Neve. Talin’s throat tightened as emotion choked him.

“I leave it in your hands whether I offer the role to Neve. Even if you say yes, she might not,” Erith cautioned.

“Yes,” Talin said in a rush. “My answer is yes.”

He knew as soon as the words were out that there hadn’t been another answer for him. It wasn’t because he wanted Neve beside him—although that played a huge role in his decision.

No, it was because it was time that Neve had her own choice. Whatever that would be, Talin would live with it. No matter how hard it would be.

Death gave a single nod and lightly squeezed his hand. “Now the choice is in Neve’s hands.”

Talin remained with Neve in his arms, waiting for Erith to talk to Neve’s soul as she’d done with Jordyn. But Death had other ideas.

“When I came to each of you, you were alone. It’ll be the same with Neve,” Erith said softly.

Kyran came up beside him. “Talin.”

He loosened his hold on Neve. Quick as a flash, Death was gone with Neve. Talin ran a hand through his hair. When he looked down, he saw Neve’s blood all over his shirt, mixing with his own and that of the Dark.

Blood. So much blood.

His life was bloody and hard. He saw death and fought evil daily. It wore away at his soul, chipping away one millimeter at a time.

How much longer until he turned out like Fintan?

Neve had shone a light upon his world that he’d forgotten existed. Reapers lived whatever life they wanted when they weren’t hunting for Death, but it was the hunting, the killing that had dimmed the light within him.

With Neve, she reminded him of who he’d been, of the Fae who had been proud and hopeful. Talin had been Death’s executioner for so many thousands of years, he’d forgotten who he was.

“Neve loves you,” Kyran said. “She’ll choose to be a Reaper.”

Fintan nodded as he walked around the room. “There’s no denying Neve’s feelings.”

“They’re right,” Cael said as he came up on Talin’s other side.

Talin drew in a deep breath. “Being a Reaper will destroy Neve. I can’t bear that.”

“Jordyn doesn’t kill,” Kyran reminded them. “Perhaps Neve won’t either.”

Cael tensed but didn’t reply.

Talin turned his head to look at Kyran. River wasn’t a Reaper. She carried Kyran’s child, and Death had given her a place with the Reapers so she could become Kyran’s.

Would the same chance have been given to Neve had Talin gotten her with child? Would Death do the same with Neve as she had with Jordyn and not make her kill?

Talin knew the answer—no.

It all came down to the others being half—Fae, and Neve being a Light. There must be a reason for the difference, but he had yet to figure it out.

And it pissed him off. His anger grew, expanded.

“Why?” he asked the room. “Why is Death treating Neve differently than the others? Why are the half—Fae given more consideration than Fae? Neve lost her family. She had to watch her parents be killed by her own brother. Only to have Atris then kill her. She’s suffered.”

“So have you,” Fintan pointed out.

Talin shook off Kyran’s hand on his shoulder. He rose and stalked around the room, his hands balled into fists at his side. “We’re Fae! More concessions shouldn’t go to the half—Fae than one of our own.”

“The half—Fae are our own,” Kyran said.

Talin halted, facing his friend. “Really? Why then do the Fae never return for the children that result from a union with a human? Why do the female Fae leave the spawn of a human in the forest, forgetting her indiscretion? Why do the Fae not bring the half—Fae into our world?”

“Because they have human blood,” Fintan stated.

“Exactly.” Talin snorted, his fury building. “Neve was going to be killed because she figured out who we were. She figured it out because her family was taken and Bran made sure she was pointed in the direction of the Reapers.”

Cael nodded, his voice reassuring as he said, “I know.”

“Rhi knows. She’s
seen
. But Death doesn’t kill her. Why? Because there are plans for Rhi? Why aren’t there plans for Neve?”

He was shouting by the end of it, but Talin couldn’t help it. It wasn’t fair that everything had been stacked against Neve. She’d more than proven her worth as Jordyn had. But Jordyn was half—Fae, so apparently, that gave her something more than Neve.

His gorgeous, wonderful Neve.

The room was silent. Talin needed some time alone. He was too angry to be around anyone else. He teleported out of Usaeil’s castle, out of Ireland altogether.

He found himself on a mountain in the middle of the Highlands. Snow fell in thick sheets. It was piled along the rocky slopes.

It wasn’t until he turned around and saw the man behind him that he realized where he had inadvertently taken himself—Dreagan.

Neve
.

She opened her eyes and blinked. Neve found herself looking up at brilliant blue skies and towering trees with birds of all shapes and colors flying around.

Neve sat up, confused when she found herself on the ground. She looked down to find that blood still covered her white dress. So she hadn’t imagined Atris stabbing her.

And her death.

She drew in a deep breath. When she raised her gaze, a dragonfly buzzed around her before weaving within stalks of flowers that seemed to reach heaven itself.

Neve climbed to her feet and followed the dragonfly with its brilliant green and gold wings. The journey took her through lush plants and more vibrantly colored flowers than she’d ever seen before.

It was paradise.

Neve’s feet halted when she saw the dragonfly land on the shoulder of a petite woman with coal—black hair that hung in glorious waves to her back.

Large, unique, lavender eyes watched Neve in a face too beautiful for words. And Neve had seen a lot of beauty as a Fae. Yet this woman put all of them to shame.

In contrast to the bright colors and life all around her, the woman was dressed in a magnificent gown of solid black. The skirts were full, but the edges didn’t touch the ground. In fact, it looked like she was . . . floating.

Neve frowned as she let her gaze roam back up the dress. That’s when she noticed there was a black paisley design a shade lighter on the black material. The bodice rose up to her neck but was sleeveless. The gown showed the woman’s tiny waist and voluptuous curves.

“Who are you?”

“Death,” the woman answered in a voice as soft and melodic as the breeze.

Neve cocked her head to the side. “Death?”

“Is it so hard to believe?”

“A little.”

Death smiled, transforming her stunning face into one that left even Neve breathless. “Most assume Death is a man. I love to see reactions.”

“What am I doing here?”

The smile dimmed. “I’m sorry about what happened. I’m sorry Bran pulled you into this war he began. It’s my fault. I should’ve killed him, but I wanted him to suffer for breaking my rules and turning against the other Reapers. So I threw him in the Netherworld.”

“He escaped.”

Death sighed, her lips compressing together for a moment. “That he did. Now, the Reapers are fighting him. You and your family were caught in the middle.”

Neve eyed Death. “Did you bring me here because I figured out what the Reapers were?”

“No. That was brilliant, by the way. I hated that you found out, but I was immensely impressed.”

“Hated because it meant my death?”

“Yes.”

Neve knew she was already dead. Why else would Death be talking to her? And though she knew she could be thrown in the Netherworld, she still had questions she wanted Death to answer. “But not Jordyn or River?”

Lavender eyes narrowed on her. “You don’t know the story.”

“Did they learn of the Reapers?”

“Yes,” she grudgingly admitted.

“But you didn’t have them killed.” No wonder Talin was so angry and ready to fight for her.

Death raised a black brow as her face became stony. “There is much you don’t know, Neve Everwood. You’ve heard bits and pieces and came to your own conclusions.”

“I’m not wrong. It’s basic. Those two half—Fae learned of the Reapers but they weren’t killed.”

“Actually, Bran killed Jordyn,” Death stated in a harsh tone. “I gave her the choice to become a Reaper.”

Well. That, Neve hadn’t been prepared for. Perhaps she’d overstepped.

For long minutes, Death simply stared at her. “River isn’t a Reaper. She is, however, carrying Kyran’s child. She’s also the only member left of her family that the Dark have hunted and killed for numerous generations. She has the ability to read long—dead Fae dialect in books that we’re using to fight Bran.”

“I see.” Put that way, Neve brought absolutely nothing to the table.

“You think you’re unworthy?”

Neve looked Death in the eye. “In the Fae world, I come from an influential, powerful, and wealthy family. I’m courted for my family, and my connections.”

She took a deep breath and looked at the spectacular beauty around her, beauty she would never have thought to associate with Death. It proved that while Neve had learned her way around the Light Fae court, she knew nothing else.

“I’m not a warrior,” she continued. “Not like Rhi. I can’t read obscure Fae languages. I’m not carrying Talin’s child. I have nothing. Why then, am I here?”

Death smiled at the dragonfly still perched on her shoulder. It fluttered its wings before it flew off, zooming over Death, but never getting far. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I have no right to ask, but why didn’t you help the Reapers when they battled Bran?”

Death sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “That’s the problem. I can’t. I want nothing more than to face Bran myself. He wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What I’m about to tell you, the Reapers don’t know yet. Bran is somehow draining my magic. He’s weakening me.”

Now Neve understood. “To kill you.”

“Yes. I don’t know how he’s doing it, and I need to find out. Bran can’t take over. It would put all the realms into chaos.”

“The Reapers need to know.”

“They will. Soon enough. Cael already suspects. He’s too smart for his own good.”

Neve found it curious that Death mumbled the last part, as if it were more her thoughts than something she wanted spoken aloud. But Neve didn’t comment on it. She was too alarmed by what Death had just shared to do more than gawk at the entity.

“Enough of that.” Death squared her shoulders as if she’d just shaken off bad thoughts. “I want to know what you would do for Talin.”

“What I would do?” Neve repeated, unsure what Death was asking. “Anything. Everything.”

“Yes, but
what
?”

Neve turned to the side and bent to smell a fragrant orange flower she’d never seen before. “Bran shared enough of his story that I realized why Talin hadn’t told me who he was. I feared—still fear—that Talin might follow in Bran’s footsteps.”

“You think Talin loves you that much?”

Neve closed her eyes and heard Talin whisper of his love right before she’d died. Oddly, there hadn’t been any pain. Why was she just now remembering that?

There had only been . . . peace.

Could Death be responsible for that? Neve recalled the feel of the blade sinking into her skin. There had been a terrible flash of pain, and then she’d been in Talin’s arms, looking into his pale silver eyes.

Her lids lifted. “Talin is a man of honor. He’ll feel responsible for what’s happened to me and my family, though it isn’t his fault. But yes, I do believe he loves me.” She looked at Death. “Talin doesn’t say something he doesn’t mean.”

“Talin does feel responsible. He’s also incredibly angry right now. Would you leave Talin forever if it would make him better?”

Now Neve was really confused. “Leave? I’m dead. I’ve already left him.”

“Not of your own will.”

“I knew what was coming. I didn’t want Talin to be the one to kill me. Nor did I want any of the Reapers to do it.”

Death’s lavender gaze softened as admiration filled them. “You asked Rhi to do it in order to save Talin.”

“Talin could stay mad at Rhi, but I didn’t want him angry at any of his brethren for doing what had to be done because of the rules.”

“Answer my question.”

Neve faced Death. She loved Talin more than she’d ever thought she could love anyone. He was the first thing she thought of when she woke, and the last thing on her mind before she fell asleep.

Everywhere she went, she searched for him. Even when she knew he wouldn’t be there. Every minute spent with him bound her closer, tied her heart evermore to his.

His touch stirred her soul. His kisses roused her passion. And when their bodies were joined, she felt truly, completely whole.

Talin was the great love she’d waited her very, very long life for.

Neve blinked away the tears. All those times she’d wanted to be like Rhi, and she was getting the one thing she hadn’t wanted—the loss of her true love.

By the stars! Was this how Rhi felt? All the time? All those thousands upon thousands of years? Neve didn’t know how Rhi stood it. The pain was . . . unyielding, relentless.

“Neve,” Death urged.

She nodded, sniffing. “Yes. I would walk away from Talin forever if I thought it would make him better.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Neve was too shocked to do more than gape at Death.

Then Death smiled softly. “You say you bring nothing to the table, but, my dear, you bring loyalty, love, and honor. That is something to be proud of.”

“I . . . I don’t understand.” Why was Death saying all this? It was putting hope in Neve’s heart, and that she couldn’t take. Not now. Not after everything.

Death said, “I look for the greatest warriors of the Fae—both Light and Dark—for my Reapers. I kept it at seven always. Well, until recently. Every one of my Reapers was betrayed, and that betrayal brought about their deaths.”

“Like me,” Neve murmured.

“Exactly like you.” Death’s lips softened. “I’m giving you a choice. I can release your soul, and you’ll find peace with your parents. Or you can accept my offer to become a Reaper and do my bidding.”

Neve’s heart nearly leapt from her chest in excitement at the offer. To be with Talin. For eternity! She opened her mouth to answer when Death held up a finger to stop her.

“I am judge and jury, Neve. The Reapers are executioners. Are you prepared to kill without knowing what the Fae did? Only on my word?”

Kill. Now that was something Neve hadn’t thought about. Could she take someone’s life again and again based just on Death’s word? Someone had to be judge of the Fae. Talin and the others trusted Death. She could, as well.

Neve’s heart sank. “As I said, I’m not a warrior. I know nothing of battle other than what I saw today.”

“Is that a no?” Death asked with a quirk of her brow.

“I could do as you ask, but I’m not a—”

“I didn’t ask if you were a warrior,” Death interrupted her. “Bottom line. Do you want to be a Reaper?”

Neve smiled. “Yes.”

“Good.” Death closed the distance between them and laid her hand upon Neve’s arm.

As she looked into Death’s eyes, Neve saw what few ever had. Behind those lavender eyes was a soul weighted with responsibility, controlled by justice, and ruled by obligation. The universe rested on Death’s shoulders, and she carried it with dignity and grace.

It was the loneliness she glimpsed that surprised Neve.

There wasn’t time to think on it as she felt power—thick and pure—pour through her. Her magic increased, thrumming through her as it eagerly waited to be used.

The force of it all nearly brought Neve to her knees. She stood against it, her eyes closed and her teeth gritted. It felt like the entire universe was closing in on her, and just before she was crushed, everything exploded in a flash of dazzling lights that fell from the now dark sky like millions of stars.

Neve blinked up at the sky for the second time that day. Did Death control time, as well? Or had that passage of time actually occurred?

Then it didn’t matter as the magic and power swirled through her, seeping into her bone and muscle to coat her. Neve lifted her hands and looked at them. Her fingertips tingled with the force of her magic.

She laughed, unable to believe what had just happened. She was a Reaper. A Reaper! Nothing would stand in the way of her being with Talin but Talin.

Neve turned her gaze to Death, who smiled in approval. “Thank you.”

“You’ll be a great addition to the team. And my name is Erith.”

Neve twirled around. And that’s when she realized she no longer had on her white dress. She now wore black pants that molded to her legs and tall black boots that ended over her knees.

The same slinky black material covered her torso and down her arms. A black leather corset covered her where dozens of small knife handles peeked out. From her elbows down to the first knuckles of her fingers were leather gauntlets, each holding another knife on the underside of her forearm.

She touched her hair to find it was now styled in five thick braids from her face to her neck before being weaved into one thick plait.

Death’s smile widened when a sword appeared in Neve’s right hand. Neve gaped at the curved blade. The pommel was black wood with silver swirled along it in thick, curvy designs.

“Welcome, Reaper,” Erith said.