Grinning Reaper Novels & Stories

He's practically the devil,' I said to myself, knowing that I was trapped there forever. 'Goddess, what kind of life is this that you've planned for me?' I pleaded with her. The skies outside started to darken and thunder rumbled in the distance. It wasn't coincidental, it was symbolic. "How ironic. Thunder, lighting and heavy rainfall rolls right about when the Night Reaper loses his temper and attacks one of his own men. He has never and will never know what it means to be human. Cassian Grant is nothing else but the Night Reaper. A ruthless and murderous Alpha who lost his humanity ages ago."

My fingers brush cold polymer. The Glock. It must have flown out of Drakon’s holster during the roll. I grab it. It feels heavy, a solid weight in a world that has lost its gravity. I check the slide. It’s in battery. The back doors of the van are twisted, hanging open on bent hinges. Through the gap, I see a pair of combat boots stop. A shadow falls over the opening. A Reaper leans down. He peers into the wreckage. He’s wearing a skull mask, his rifle raised.

I opened my eyes to see a face that was both familiar and unfamiliar. The man was in his late 60s, standing tall in a crisp military uniform. The sight of the general stars on his shoulders made my eyes sting. He stood in front of the meat grinder. With one hand, he slammed the power switch off. With the other, he grabbed the guard by the throat and tossed him ten feet away like a ragdoll. Ariel turned deathly pale. "Who the hell are you?"

An ancient ghost wearing a mask seconded. "We could do that. But those small fries could not hold a candle for a senior grim reaper. The Association held importance to their people. Every subjugation team has a senior grim reaper. We can't just rely on those expendables." Mr. Cassian explained. "It's true. But I heard there is some new seedling who could fight junior grim reapers on one-on-one. What is that little guy's name again? Ah, right. It's Reynold. He came from Mr. Lin Ze's area, right? Perhaps we could try to strengthen him with Old Xian's elixir. Who knows he might be able to face a senior grim reaper head-on. "

The other young werewolves cheered as the echoes went through the trees. "Go, Sophia! Show them your stuff!" yelled Ash, one of her closest friends and also part of the pack, tall and powerful, his dark brown hair glinting in the moonlight. "Look out! Here I come!" she giggled, tripping him into a gentle tumble, landing lightly on her feet. "Good one!" Ash clapped, grinning from ear to ear. Just then, her best friend, Daniel, joined the training circle. He had sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes that sparked mischievously. "See that? I can do it better, I bet!" he teased jollily.

My lips attempted to form another self-accomplished, shit-eating grin, but the muscles in my face refused to comply, and I was stuck somewhere between a constipated smile and a cry for help. Vladislav and Anatoly were still above the podium—or so I thought. I could barely see anything from behind the curtain of blood dancing across my eyes. God, I was so exhausted. But still, I had a chance of destroying Malcom Reece now. I had fulfilled my end of the bargain, and now Vladislav Moroz must fulfill his. The sharp clang of metal snapped me from my thoughts, the loud echo ricocheting through the bloodstained arena. The cage door flew open, and in came fury personified—with a mask.

Ayira to become a reaper or not I scrunched my mouth and wiggled my cheeks against the hard surface under my face. I blinked my eyes and looked up and my mouth dropped open. I lifted my head and looked down at Grim. God he was beautiful. His black eyelashes were fanned across his high cheekbones. I squinted my eyes. Reapers don't sleep, I remembered. I looked down at his bare chest and swallowed seeing his ink work. Hot damn, he's covered with beautifully done tattoos. I used my index finger to trace one and hear the deep rumble of his laughter building up. I chuckled softly and looked up at his green eyes glowing brightly at me.

he said, his voice low, a rough rasp of calm. Reaper stepped inside, the hallway light casting him in long, intimidating shadows that stretched across the floor. His leather cut hung open over a black shirt, and his dark jeans were grease-stained, familiar signs of his world. There was something off in his posture—shoulders tense, but not in that calculated, ready-to-fight way. This was something else. Worn. Like he carried a weight no one else saw. He glanced at the untouched sandwich on the small table by the window. “You planning on starving yourself?”

"Firstly, I want to tell you all that I'm grateful for setting me free. Secondly, I as a grim reaper would go back to my post and continue my job. Thirdly, I don't give a fuck of whatever is happening to god" "Grim Reaper, you are not allowed to cuss in the palace " The second Elder reprimanded. "Whatever " She mouthed and turned to leave but suddenly her body was bound with a chain making her unable to leave. "Grim Reaper Rose, This is your mission you are not allowed to reject it. Accepting it guarantees your freedom." The Third Elder dressed in a blue apparel suddenly spoke. His voice was gentle and could make anyone listen to him but unfortunately the person is Rose Blair.