When the woman steps forward to speak to us, I can’t help thinking how brave—and beautiful—she is.
Her black hair has a bit of a wave to it as it falls just past her shoulders, with gray eyes that keep running over the three of us. I try to ignore her high cheekbones and pouty, kissable lips.
That’s not why we’re here.
It’s never why we’re here.
But I can’t seem to look away from her as she speaks, feeling drawn to her in a way I’ve never felt drawn to another, which is dangerous—and heartbreaking.
It doesn’t matter if she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or that I’m drawn to her.
Not when I can never touch her.
AsDer kopfloser Reiters, we’re meant to live a life atoning for our sins of the past. Yes, we warn people of impending danger sent to us via dreams, and we often stay to help the person or people fight off the evil coming their way. But there’s more to being a rider than that.
We’re meant to live alone.
We’re meant never to find love.
How do I know this?
Because our touch drains the life from the living.
The only love I’ve found during my long life is the love of the men at my back—at least as a rider. I’ve long forgotten my life before being given a chance to atone for my sins. Not that I’m able to forget the atrocities I committed, but I would like to.
Blaze and Titan? They’re what make this life worth continuing—as if I have a choice in the matter.
Without them, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.
It’s why the three of us founded the Headless Riders MC. It’s why we sought others of our kind.
Being alone while living out our punishment is just too hard. I’ve seen what we can turn into if we allow the darkness to overtake us—revenants.
Any chance of redemption for the crimes we committed during our lives is gone. No longer do we seek to help others.
Instead, we live to harm the living—to make them as miserable as we are.
Or we kill them.
It’s a miserable existence, and it’s why we made it our mission to end the revenants prowling this world.
There’s nothing worse than being forced to face what we can become if we didn’t have each other.
But maybe this is worse—facing down this woman who feels like she’s mine but can never be.
As the blonde woman introduces the other two women as her sisters, I find it hard to believe.
I’m not sure they could be more different. The only thing they have in common is their pale skin and light-colored eyes—but they’re not even the same color.
Dalia is the one I can’t keep my eyes off. She’s probably about five foot seven, if I had to guess, and slender. There’s no mistaking that she’s a woman with her gentle curves.
Snap the fuck out of it, Steel.
I force my eyes away from her to Phoebe, the cheerful blonde who’s the shortest of the three. She can’t be more than an inch or two over five feet. While she’s also thin, she’s all voluptuous curves—the type of woman I’m usually attracted to. Her bright sapphire eyes seem to see everything—her voice is melodic.
If I didn’t know what she was, I’d swear she’s a siren.
Turning to the last sister, Morrigan, I smile. Though I’m glad she can’t see it.
