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A wave of heat washed over me, and I gulped in air, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “It’s over,” I whispered, the words tasting foreign and wonderful on my tongue.
Reaper’s silent presence beside me was an unexpected comfort. I stole a glance at him, his face unreadable in the darkness, gaze fixed on the star-studded sky. As my breathing steadied, the stars seemed to pulse in rhythm with my wildly beating heart.
Free. I wasfree. The realization bloomed in my chest, expanding with each breath. Never again would I be forced to submit to Ivan’s twisted games, his emotional torture, his suffocating control. I was my own woman.
Could it really be possible? After all this time?
A chuckle bubbled up from deep within me, growing into a full-bodied laugh. It was absurd—my curse, my father, Ivan, magic, and now this. The laughter grew, bordering on hysteria. I clung to the railing, my body shaking with the force of it.
“I’m free,” I gasped between peals of laughter. “I’m free!”
I don’t know how long I stood there, caught between laughter and tears. Reaper remained a steady presence, never interrupting. When I finally met his gaze, tears streaming down my face, he offered a simple smile and nodded. As if he understood perfectly that, in this moment, losing my mind was the only sane response.
For the first time in a decade, I felt the intoxicating rush of possibility. The future—my future—stretched out before me, vast and unknown and mine.
Slowly, my racing thoughts began to fall away, the cacophony in my mind quieting to a manageable hum. The fear and bewilderment ebbed, replaced by a cautious calm. The stars above no longer seemed distant and indifferent. The night air felt cool and refreshing against my flushed skin.
Standing there on the rooftop, with the city spread out below and the vast sky above, I felt a strange, growing peace. The world might be chaotic and unpredictable, but in that moment, I was alive.
The stars continued to twinkle, their light steady and reassuring. In their glow, I found the strength to face whatever came next.
In retrospect, I didn’t know what I was even thinking back there. With no plan, I should have been killed, but for some reason, Reaper saved me. Why?
“Are you going back?” I asked, wondering if he’d want to claim his win.
Leaning against the banister beside me, gazing out across the city, he didn’t answer. “Sometimes it takes time to come down from shit like that. It was pretty intense.”
“Pretty disastrous,” I corrected.
“I don’t know.” Amusement rang out in his voice. “We’re here. He’s not.”
I flattened my forearms against the railing, looking over at him, and pursed my lips. “Mmmmm. And how is that?”
He smirked. “Everyone has their secrets, don’t they, Tess?”
“I suppose they do…” My voice drifted off, leaving silence to take over. In the quiet, my body and brain relaxed. I wanted to say thank you. Ask him what he expected from me for saving me.
I wanted to fuck him again. The memory of his hands all over me, his cock inside me, that growly throat thing he did. I started to warm, and my face flushed, but I hoped he couldn’t see it in the shadows. “Uh, do you think you can get me home?”
He nodded, straightening and leaning in toward me. “Whenever you want to go.” His tone made it clear there was a reason to stay. Chiseled features framed his golden eyes, which caught my gaze, and I stilled. The memory of how he moved in me earlier had me mesmerized at the feel of him so close. He traced his fingers down my arm and edged closer, but I jerked my hand away before he reached my wrist. I did not want to see his death right now.
Unlike everyone else in my past, he didn’t even flinch at the rejection—just confidently slid his fingers back up my arm. I couldn’t breathe. Time stopped, and moments later, I found him squarely in front of me, flanking both shoulders.
Not counting the ballroom—which was a bizarre extenuating circumstance—this was the first time I could consider a man’s advances all on my own since I’d met Ivan. He and his friends didn’t count. They just did what they wanted with me. I bit my lip, taking a moment to orient myself in the present moment. It wasn’t difficult; no woman would say no to Reaper. No one would want to.
“Plant your hands behind you, monstre.” The rumbling lilt of his voice vibrated straight to my core. When I reached back to grasp the railing, he smoldered. “That’s a good girl.” He brought a hand to my chin and hovered there. “Can I touch your face?”
I nodded, swallowing audibly. My heartbeat echoed in my ears so I could barely hear him. With a deep breath, begging my body to calm, I felt like a revved-up engine, ready to take off over the edge of the rooftop.
He traced his thumb over my lip, his gaze an inferno threatening to incinerate us both. I watched him lick his own plump lips as he captured my chin between his fingers, leaned in and took my bottom lip between his. I squeezed my fingers tighter. He was too gentle; the anticipation was killing me. I wanted him to be rough, tear my clothes off and rail me with his hands around my throat. But this was a different game, one too novel to disturb. I swallowed, trying to be patient, to see how he would unfold the promises made with every stroke of his tongue.
Groaning softly, he pulled back and gazed into my eyes, running a finger over my tits. “Delicious. Thanks for the tip.”
The disorientation in my eyes must have shown. “Tip?”
“Your shirt… ‘Lick a witch.’ Glad I did.”
Heart still pounding erratically, I smirked at him. “Tease,” I croaked, cringing at the sound of my wavering voice.
