Page 10 of Claimed By the Forest Reaper

“Hey.”

He won’t look at me.

I sit on the wet log beside him. “I wanted that.”

His jaw clenches.

“I’m not scared of you.”

He snorts.

“Okay, maybe a little,” I admit. “But not… not like that.”

Slowly, he turns. Raindrops cling to his eyelashes. He’s beautiful in the gray light—a ruined angel.

I touch his knee. “Try again?”

He stares at my hand.

“No vines. No magic. Just…” I swallow. “Just you.”

He stands.

For one terrible second, I think he’ll bolt. Then he scoops me up, cradling me against his chest.

“Where are we—?”

The shadows swallow us whole.

FIRST CLAIM

The shadows spit us out into a cavern. A soft glow emanates from the walls, casting everything in a warm, otherworldly light. Stalactites hang from the ceiling like giant teeth, dripping water into a crystal-clear pool below. The air is humid, filled with the scent of damp earth and something else—something primal.

Kaelith sets me down gently, but his grip doesn't loosen. He looks around the cavern, then back at me, as if seeking approval. I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. This place feels ancient, sacred. A fitting place for… whatever is about to happen.

He takes a deep breath, then speaks. One word, barely above a whisper, but it echoes through the cavern like thunder.

"Mine."

A shiver runs down my spine. His voice… it's deep, resonant, with a slight rasp that makes my toes curl. It's the first time I've heard him speak, and I want more. I want him to whisper in my ear, growl against my skin, shout my name until it echoes through the forest.

But for now, that one word is enough. Mine.

Shadow magic pulses from him, wrapping around my wrists like velvet ribbons. It tugs gently, pulling my arms above my head. I gasp, a small sound of surprise and anticipation. The magic holds me in place, not painfully, but firmly. I'm at his mercy, and gods help me, I like it.

Kaelith steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. He's so tall I have to crane my neck to look at him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, each breath a testament to his self-control. He's trying to hold back, to not overwhelm me. But I don't want him to hold back. I want everything he has to give.

I lick my lips, a nervous habit, and his gaze zeroes in on the movement. A low growl rumbles in his chest. He leans down, his mouth hovering over mine. His breath is cool, minty, like the first frost of winter. I strain against the shadows, trying to close the distance between us.

"Please," I whisper.

His mouth crashes against mine, hard and demanding. His tongue invades, claiming, exploring. He tastes like the forest—dark, wild, untamed. His hands grip my waist, fingers digging into my flesh. I moan into his mouth, pressing against him.

He breaks the kiss, panting. His hands slide up my ribcage, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. I shiver, my nipples hardening. He watches the reaction, fascinated, then does it again. And again. Until I'm squirming, arching into his touch.

"More," I beg.

His claws slice through my dress, fabric tearing like paper. Cool air hits my bare skin, followed by his hot gaze. He takes a step back, drinking me in. His eyes glow silver, pupils blown wide. He looks… hungry. Starved. Like he could devour me whole.