The Reaper's Wicked Obsession
Chapter 62: The Moment Of Truth

Chapter 62: The Moment Of Truth

Isadora couldn’t sleep; her eyes darted searching for a shadow as her mind mulled over conflicted emotions.

This deep, unknowable fear was ingrained within her, far beyond anything she had ever felt.

Not even the moment she realized she’d captured the interest of an insane man’s twisted amusement could rival this.

This fear was hers.

The unexplainable feelings within her, leaving her paralyzed—the desire... the attraction.

It was twisted to acknowledge because the very thought of it terrified her to the core.

Her eyelids grew heavy and she welcomed fatigue. Sleep was the only escape could use to free her mind from its shackles.

A few minutes of not thinking about Kraven were much needed.

The past hour she turned back and forth, restless, unable to sleep properly. The grass under her was suddenly uncomfortable even though she had gotten used to it in the past week.

Grass?

A frown formed on her face as her hand brushed against something that should have been rough, and the earthy scent of the ground should follow.

But an unfamiliar smell found her nostrils and her hand felt something soft.

A bed.

Gasping, she fluttered her eyes open and found a ceiling above her instead of the open mouth of the cave.

How did she get here?

It was dark and the candelabras on the shelves barely offered lighting. The setting of this room was very familiar.

Her heartbeat spiked when a rough hand brushed against her neck—not a grip, but a feeling.

A foreign sensation overwhelmed her, sending her heart racing while dread pooled deep in her stomach.

Not the usual dread because it was her shadow but because of the reaction her body got from it.

The darkness no longer terrified her as much; a childhood fear had been replaced.

This Fae ruled the dark, and whenever he was near, she no longer feared the stillness of the night, but the Fae who dwelled within it.

"You healed this one..." he murmured, his deep voice carrying an unfamiliar tone.

Her erratic eyes found his silver ones like the crescent moon and judging by the intensity, he was glaring at her delicate neck, one he was always obliged to snap into two.

"Yes," she replied, her voice stronger than she imagined. "Because I don’t need to remind myself of what you’re capable of."

She kept the last bruise he gave her as a reminder of her desire for freedom.

But what use were they? When her soul had been permanently marked by him?

"Hmm," he made a sound, displeased.

"Do you wish me covered in bruises to display how cruel you are?"

She could tell his lips were wide in a smirk right now.

"Maybe," he murmured.

Does he need a reminder too? That was the last thing she expected him to say. She merely asked the question on a whim but the truth hung in the air.

They both needed reminders.

’But a cruel man shouldn’t need a reminder of what he is,’ Isadora thought confused.

The unfamiliar feeling came again, the need to unravel this dark Fae’s secret.

’Don’t drown, Isa,’ she reminded herself.

His hand retreated and a breath of relief found her. She maintained her calm position because his aura wasn’t threatening... yet.

She heard his quiet footsteps, her eyes following his every move. A flame flickered to life on the same stick he used to gather fire from another, to light the candelabra.

Slowly, the room became brighter. Isadora sat up, keeping her eyes on him as she leaned against the headboard.

"The hunt begins tomorrow, hence your training is over."

She gulped at his words, her hands fidgeting together. It was the moment of truth and pressure gripped her insides.

"And you’re not ready, love."

Her eyes snapped back to him, and he moved around the room gracefully, unable to peel her eyes away. The warm lighting gave a memorizing glow.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

She swallowed a lump in her throat once again, overwhelmed. She knew what he meant.

She was being thrown in with the wolves, and in the eyes of everyone, she was more prey than anyone could be.

The sound of stone grinding open captured her attention. Her eyes shifted toward the two open paths, each leading somewhere.

"There are two tunnels..." Kraven began leaning against the wall between them, crossing his arms and keeping his sharp gaze on his little bunny.

"One away from the Hunt," he declared, pointing to the right. "And the other leads to it," he pointed to the left.

"W-Why are you giving me a choice?" Isadora asked, puzzled.

The moment of truth had arrived—the moment that would determine her fate, was to be decided by her?

Why was he doing this? What motive did he have in mind? But she couldn’t read him, she never could.

"Because everything is a choice and I can’t have my bunny in shackles," he said, licking his lips, a look of thrill dancing in his gaze, tempered by the possessive edge that contradicted his words.

’He is toying with me,’ she thought, her anger rising.

"My little bunny craves something bigger than her."

Her body was still, and her eyes widened. His words stirred something deep within her, like a magnetic pull leading her toward something she couldn’t grasp.

Kraven’s eyes gleamed from the spark he saw in hers, and a light laugh broke from him. By the olden gods, he was getting more engrossed by this little bunny.

He had a feeling he wanted her more alive than dead.

The strong desire to see her rise, because he allowed it, knowing her soul was so precious to him, and Daudi would never get his hands on her while he still breathed and even when he stopped.

"Yield the hunt and become the cheater and the mannfae they deemed you as or be the hunt and show them what it means to be a mannfae."

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