Dark Alpha's Awakening--A Reaper Novel

by Donna Grant

  And she kept wondering . . . if she were dying, what would it hurt to tell Cael how she felt? Perhaps even kiss him?

  Then she imagined what Bran would do to the Reapers. There was no way she was going to stand by and let Bran hurt her family—because that’s what the Reapers were. Her family.

  The family she’d never had.

  The family she’d always wanted.

  The family she had never allowed herself to enjoy.

  Chapter Three

  The waiting was interminable. Cael paced a spot in the grass in front of the doorway to Death’s realm until he wore it smooth. Then he finally sat and began to meditate in an effort to calm himself.

  Thoughts of Erith clouded his mind so much that it took him several tries before he could focus and find the peace he knew he would need—regardless of what Eoghan said when he finally returned.

  Cael’s thoughts drifted like a lazy river, winding and rolling. Slowly, his anxiety lessened, and he was able to see the path before him clearly in his mind. Everyone from his friends to his enemies was around him.

  He looked at the Reapers, who were at his back as he and Eoghan stood shoulder-to-shoulder. The Reapers were strong and ready, undeterred by what they were about to face. A massive Dark Fae army spread out behind Bran, who looked supremely confident.

  If it were simply a numbers game, then Bran would win.

  But this was so much more than that. This was about family and honor. This was about ensuring that Bran’s life was taken so he could never harm anyone again.

  As Cael looked over the sea of Dark Fae, he did a double-take when he spotted Seamus among them. When had the Fae left Death’s realm? Or had she let him go? Cael hated not knowing. Erith was intentionally keeping all the Reapers at arm’s length, and it was going to get her killed.

  Bran never intended to go up against Death on his own. If Erith were at full power, Bran and his army wouldn’t stand a chance. But now . . . now, anything could happen.

  Cael saw two figures standing between the armies. One was Xaneth. The Fae hadn’t chosen a side yet. While Cael wasn’t sure about him, the one thing he did know was that Xaneth was a fine warrior. They could use him on their side.

  Directly across from Xaneth was a Dark Fae. The face was blurred so Cael couldn’t make out who it was. But it was another warrior who could go to either side. They needed to figure out who it was and why that Dark was so important.

  Cael looked over the entire scene several more times until he was unable to glean anything else from it. Only then did he pull himself from the meditation. When he opened his eyes, Eoghan was sitting on a rock, rolling a long piece of grass between his fingers.

  “About fekking time,” Eoghan grumbled.

  Cael frowned. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  “Two bloody hours. You went deep, Cael. You never heard me.”

  But Cael didn’t wish to talk about his meditation now. “Did you see her?”

  Eoghan blew out a loud breath. “I did.”

  “And?” Cael asked irritably.

  “The sword was with her, though she wasn’t holding it. She looked better than she did the last time I saw her.”

  “It’s the sword.” Cael didn’t know how he knew, but he would stake his life on it.

  Eoghan shrugged. “She wouldn’t talk about the weapon. I did tell her the plan. I also told her it was yours.”

  Cael climbed to his feet. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “What else was said?”

  Eoghan shrugged as he stood. “The normal. Now, do you want to tell me what you saw in your meditation?”

  “How do you know I saw anything?”

  “Because of your determined look when you opened your eyes.”

  Cael fought not to glance at the doorway behind him, but he gave up and turned his head over his shoulder. “Bran’s army is considerable in size. I saw Xaneth. He stood between us and Bran as if he hadn’t made a decision yet.”

  “And you believe we need to recruit him.”

  “We fought with him before. He’ll be a good ally.”

  “If we can trust him.”

  Cael considered that for a moment. “Xaneth has walked with the Light and the Dark. He knows both sides and has worked with both. However, Xaneth is also royalty. If he gives his word, we’ll be able to trust it.”

  “You got all of that from your meditation?”

  “I got that from fighting with him against Usaeil.”

  Eoghan grudgingly nodded. “I’ll seek him out.”

  “There was another who hadn’t chosen a side.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “No,” Cael admitted. “I couldn’t see his face either. But he was Dark.”

  Eoghan crossed his arms over his chest. “Rordan and Cathal are trying to locate someone Xaneth told us about.”

  “Who?”

  “Isoth. Xaneth said he was someone we might be interested in locating.”

  Cael dragged in a long breath. “Isoth might very well be the other person in my vision. We need to find out.”

  Eoghan glanced past Cael’s shoulder to the doorway. “What now?”

  “Do you remember the story we were told as children of the god or goddess of war who carried a black blade?”

  Eoghan nodded. “You think that’s Erith?”

  “I do, but I want to find out for sure.”

  “Sometimes, the past is better left buried.”

  “Are you cautioning me, believing I can’t handle the truth?” Cael asked angrily.

  Eoghan gave him a flat look. “I know you can handle anything, brother. I’m pointing out the fact that Death has a past, and it might be better for her if you left it alone.”

  He had to admit, Eoghan was right. “Yeah.”

  “You’re going to talk to her, aren’t you?”

  “I want to.” But did he want to find out that she had once more blocked him from entering her realm?

  Eoghan put his hand on Cael’s shoulder. “The doorway was open for me. It’ll be open for you.”

  “Why now? Why, after keeping us out for so long?”

  “Because she made a decision to fight Bran. And whether she admitted it before I went to see her or not, she knows she needs the Reapers. We are her army.”

  Cael nodded at his closest friend. “We’re going to bring Bran down.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that. I’m already convinced.” Eoghan dropped his arm as he jerked his chin to the doorway. “Good luck in there.”

  Before he could reply, Eoghan was gone. Cael turned and faced the doorway that was invisible to everyone but Death, Cael, and Eoghan. He steeled himself, praying that she wouldn’t keep him out again.

  It felt like a knife twisting in his gut every time she ignored his call or refused to allow him entrance to her realm. She had never shut him out before. The fact that she’d let Eoghan in hurt Cael more than he wanted to admit.

  What he felt for her was. . . . He closed his eyes, not wanting to name it even in his thoughts. He had before, and it had been dangerous because it allowed him to daydream of something that could never be.

  Cael opened his eyes and took a deep breath. If she blocked him again, he would find another way to get to her. Because he needed to talk to her, to see her.

  He lifted a foot and stepped over the threshold. In the next instant, he was in her realm. Cael inhaled and drew in the smells of the various flowers around him.

  With his eyes closed, he listened to the chirping of birds. He heard the soft flapping of butterfly wings, followed closely by the intermittent buzz of the dragonflies flitting about him. And, in the background, the constant drone of the bees as they moved from flower to flower before returning to their hives.

  Death’s realm was alive with life, but there was only one being he wanted to see. He turned his head as his hearing picked up the sounds of a flock of birds. The avians always followed her. All he ha
d to do was walk toward the noise to find her.

  Cael opened his eyes and turned toward the birds. As he walked through the maze of flora, he realized how much he’d missed the place.

  For thousands of years, he never ventured here, but ever since Bran’s return, he’d spent more and more time in the realm. He glanced through the thick foliage to the white tower that was Erith’s home.

  It didn’t take him long to locate Death. The closer he came to her, the more nervous he got. He kept reliving the first time he’d seen her fight as he lay dying. She outshone everyone. There hadn’t been a person who could compare to her beauty before—or since.

  Cael’s pace slowed when he saw Erith standing next to a giant tree. The tree’s branches spread out like twisted, gnarled fingers as they reached in all directions, including some that spanned the ground.

  That’s where he found the sword. The black metal glistened as if newly polished. From the blade to the pommel, every inch of the weapon was ebony.

  It was the markings on the curved blade itself that interested him, though. They appeared to be written in some language, but he couldn’t read it.

  “It says ‘Soul Reaper.’”

  At the sound of Erith’s voice, Cael turned his head to her. The tightness in his chest eased at the sight of her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until that moment. He gazed into her lavender eyes and became lost just as he had the first time he’d seen her, just as he always did. “You made the sword.”

  Without so much as a smile, she replied, “I did.”

  “It’s a work of art.”

  She looked away. It gave Cael the opportunity to let his gaze take its fill of her. She was in her usual black gown. There wasn’t a speck of another color on the full, tulle skirts or the laced corset that hugged her body. Her shoulders were bare, and her hair was down. How he loved the long, inky tresses. He’d dreamed of sliding his fingers through the thick locks so many times.

  “Ask what you want to know,” she urged before moving her gaze back to his.

  He took in her oval face with her large eyes framed by thick, black lashes before his gaze swept over her high cheekbones and then landed on her lips. By the stars, what a mouth she had. Full and lush. She rarely smiled, but when she did, there was nothing so brilliant or perfect.

  Instead of asking about the sword or her past, he decided on something else. “You didn’t answer my call.”

  A small frown formed on her face, one that was hastily wiped away. “I’m dying. You know this. Call it pride or whatever you want, but I didn’t want any of you to see that.”

  “You look stronger now.”

  “Aye,” she whispered, her gaze darting to the weapon.

  He took a step closer. “I’m not afraid to fight Bran, no matter how powerful he is.”

  “And that will be your downfall.”

  “I vowed to serve you long ago. And if it means I stand between you and Bran to give you the time to gather your power to defeat him, then I will gladly sacrifice myself.”

  Anger sparked in her eyes. “I’ve never asked that of you.”

  “That’s the thing about loyalty, Erith. You don’t have to ask.”

  “No. I forbid it,” she declared.

  Cael grinned. “I know my Reapers, and I’m coming to know Eoghan’s. You chose us well. Each of us is a strong fighter, but together, we’re a force to be reckoned with. And we are bonded, not just to each other, but to you. Whether you want it or not, we will do whatever it takes to protect you.”

  “Stop talking like that.”

  He moved closer, needing to be as near to her as he could. If he couldn’t pull her into his arms, he would get as close as he dared. “You can always make more Reapers. You’re the one who can’t be replaced.”

  She held his gaze for a long minute before she turned her head away. “It’s me Bran wants dead. I killed his woman. By going after the Reapers, he’s hurting me. And he knows it.”

  “We don’t die so easily,” Cael stated, unaffected by her words.

  “But you do die.”

  The words were whispered before she turned her back to him. Her skirts swung out, brushing against his legs. He lifted his hand, his fingers sliding against her hair. Cael wanted to pull her against him, to hold her. But he didn’t.

  No one touched Erith.

  It wasn’t a rule, exactly. But she made sure that she always stood far enough away that none of them accidentally came in contact with her. The only time Cael had felt her touch was the night he’d become a Reaper.

  That was the only time any of them had felt Death’s hand.

  Cael dropped his arm to his side. He needed to remember his place. In his dreams only, did he tell her of his feelings. “I’ve seen the battle all laid out in a meditation. Bran’s Dark army is massive. But there are two who could be pivotal in the battle. Xaneth is one. Eoghan intends to find him.”

  “And the other?” she asked, turning her head to the side.

  He stared at her profile for a heartbeat. “An unknown Dark Fae. I couldn’t see his face. Eoghan thinks it might be someone Xaneth sent his Reapers after.”

  There was a long stretch of silence, then Erith said, “From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were born to lead. Your skills were unlike anything I’d ever seen. You deserved more than just being a Reaper.”

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than by your side.”

  He’d never spoken truer words. If he couldn’t tell Erith how he felt about her, at least he could give her that much.

  Chapter Four

  There had been a few times when Erith wished to be a normal person. Now was one of those. If she were, then she would be free to follow her heart and see where it might lead her with Cael.

  But she wasn’t normal. Never had been.

  She wasn’t exactly sure what she was, but that didn’t matter.

  Cael stood strong and defiant—just as he had been the first time she’d seen him. Long hair the color of night fell past his shoulders. The front was pulled to the back of his head, where a strip of leather wound down the length to hold it in place to fall among the rest of his ebony locks.

  His probing, silver eyes rarely missed anything. But it was his strong jaw and wide lips that always caught her gaze. His impressive shoulders were encased in a white shirt that stretched tightly over his hard sinew. And the dark trousers he wore hung low on his trim hips.

  Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. Cael was intensity, strength, passion, and determination. In short, he was a force unlike any other.

  The connection she’d felt to him that first time had only strengthened over the centuries. She couldn’t have him, but at least he was in her life. It was all she could have, but it was more than she’d ever had before.

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than by your side.”

  She swallowed at the words that warmed her heart and faced him. “You would stand beside me despite not knowing my past?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?” she asked in confusion.

  He lifted a black brow and snorted. “If you have to ask that, then I’ve been remiss in letting you know just how much I respect and admire you.”

  She hated that he’d seen her retrieving her sword, but in a way, it was beneficial that he had. No longer did she have to worry about keeping the truth hidden from him. “You saw me in Killarney.”

  For a long, silent moment, he simply stared. “I did.”

  “Ask what you want to know.” She could see the questions burning in his eyes. Why wouldn’t he let them fall from his lips?

  Cael shook his head. “I don’t need to know.”

  “But you want to know.”

  “And you want to keep it hidden.”

  She did. In fact, she’d hoped that part of her life would never have to be thought of again. She should’ve known better. The past never stayed buried. She would eventually have to deal with everything that she locked away and n
ever faced. Hopefully, she was strong enough to get through it and still be able to confront Bran.

  She would be strong enough. Cael and the others were counting on her. She wouldn’t let them down.

  She wouldn’t let him down.

  Erith licked her lips. “I do. Because I’m ashamed of it.”

  “You know everything about my life, don’t you?” Cael asked.

  She briefly frowned, wondering what he was getting at. “You know I do.”

  “Do you regret making me a Reaper?”

  “Never. But my past is different.”

  He cut his hand through the air. “It’s not.”

  This was getting her nowhere. She drew in a frustrated breath. “I’m not Fae, Cael.”

  “We’re all aware of that.”

  “I don’t know where I came from or even what I am!”

  His silver eyes regarded her patiently as he smiled. “You are Death. You keep the Fae in check, and we’re your Reapers.”

  She glanced at the sword. “I swore never to pick up that weapon again.”

  “Will it help you win against Bran?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then use it,” Cael urged.

  Shock went through her. “You say that because you don’t know who I was when I wielded it. If I take up that sword again, if I become who I once was, I may win against Bran, but the person you see before you now may be gone, eaten up by the bloodthirsty being who lived for wrath and hate, for battle and the waste that followed.”

  “Bran will be gone. That’s our first step. We can deal with whatever you become later. And that’s a big if. You’re strong enough to stop it.”

  “Am I?” she asked, brows raised. “I wasn’t the first time.”

  A cocky smile flashed over his handsome face. “You didn’t have us with you.”

  Was it any wonder she had fallen so hard for him? “You might be right. But that means you and the others will see who I once was. The Mistress of War.”

  Erith watched Cael closely, but he didn’t flinch in shock or turn away in alarm. He held her gaze as if she had just told him it was going to rain tomorrow. Maybe she needed to get the point across better.