New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Exclusive Reyes POV From Sixth Grave on the Edge

 

 

POV 1

Did you miss the bonus chapter

from Sixth Grave on the Edge?

Read below to find out what Reyes

thought of a certain ‘intimate gathering.’

(For mature audiences only, please!)  

 I

 

stripped off my clothes and crawled into bed, trying not to let this latest development in all things Charley Davidson bother me. It didn’t help. It bothered me, and there  wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I could do about it. She would never listen. I had to realize that. And, admittedly, her stubbornness was part of her charm. Unfortunately, that charm was going to get her killed someday. I would do everything in my power not to let that happen, but when she disregarded my advice at every turn, she made that goal more and more difficult to achieve.

 

     And she paid the price. Holy shit, did she pay the price. With all that she’d been through, one would think she’d at least try to avoid life-threatening situations. I heard her screams at night. I felt the fear that rushed through her when her dreams turned dark. It penetrated the wall between us like razor-sharp shadows that cut to the bone.

 

     My ire rose once again with the thought. I swallowed it back, held it at bay. Dutch seemed to care more about others than about herself – and to an incomprehensible degree. It went against everything I knew about grim reapers. They didn’t care about humans. They did their jobs and went about their days.

 

    Dutch was different, unique, and I couldn’t help the pride that swelled inside me with that knowledge. If she had any idea what she was capable of, I’d probably be in a lot of trouble. Grim reapers were not to be trifled with. She’d figure that out one day.

 

      I felt her crawl onto her mattress. Our beds practically butted against each other, and the wall between us was growing tiresome. I’d have to do something about that soon.  Still, feeling her so close, even with a wall between us, was like a salve. She calmed the seas that forever roiled inside me. Illuminated the darkness I dwelled in. I could not get enough of her. I could never get enough of her. Even growing up, I dreamed about her constantly. Had I known she was not just a figment of my imagination, I would have sought her out in the flesh way sooner than I did. Instead, I visited her in my dreams. Her energy, her vividness and blindingly bright soul, drew me to her every time I closed my eyes. For the most part, I kept my distance. I would make myself known only if she was in any kind of danger, which seemed to happen a lot.

 

     But there were times growing up, in my loneliest, darkest hours, when the pain of my upbringing became unbearable, and I would search her out. She was the only reason I was still alive. Without her there to light my way, I would have been lost decades ago. I would have taken my own life, certainly, and quite possibly the lives of several others along the way. That was the simple truth of it.

 

      I felt her then. I felt her cross the barrier between us, probing, searching. I tensed, wondering what she was up to. She had been hurt a couple of weeks ago, and I’d vowed to give her space and time to heal. Maybe she was better. Going by what I was feeling radiating off her now, she was a lot better.

 

     The sensation of her grew stronger. She was reaching out with her mind, playing a game at which I was a master. I couldn’t help but be amused and send out my own essence in response. I left my physical body and slipped through the wall as though it weren’t there.

 

     She was holding her palm against it, trying to reach out to me, to touch me as I was now touching her. I didn’t materialize. Instead, I started at her wrist and worked my way down, sliding my fingertips along her arm, across her cheek, down her neck, until I lay atop her. She sucked in a breath, her chest rising softly with the action, stirring me to my core. I cupped a breast in my hand, its fullness soft and tantalizing. She moaned underneath me, writhed with pleasure as the friction caused me to harden against her. She was honest to God the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, and I’d seen a lot.

 

      But she stopped. She opened her eyes, their gold depths glittering like water in the moonlight, and concentrated, fighting me mentally, struggling to reverse our positions. I was always the one to leave my physical body and come to her. I gained just as much pleasure from being with her incorporeally as corporeally. But the thought of her doing the same to me caused a jolt of pleasure at the base of my cock. Blood rushed to that general area lightning quick the moment I felt her brush over me.

 

     She sent out her essence, letting the heat from her mental energy explore my body. No one had ever touched me that way. Her essence was warm and smooth like silk. She tested every inch of me, running her fingers over my abdomen, then – almost timidly – around my cock. I gritted my teeth, curled my hands into the sheets as I felt her mouth slide over me, encircling my erection. Her lips glided down, her teeth grazing over the sensitive skin there. But she wanted more. I could feel it. I could allow her to get only so close. To go only so deep. Anything more, and she could see things I didn’t want her to see.

 

     So, I stopped her. I raised a barrier to limit her explorations to those places visible to the naked eye. Then again, it was Dutch I was dealing with, the most powerful of her kind to be born in a millennium. She sharpened her touch, raked her fingernails over my skin, let them bite into my flesh. I bit back a curse.

 

      Heat penetrated muscle and bone and burst inside me. A feeling I’d never felt before spread through every inch. It was hot, like lava, and burned from the inside out, coursing through my veins, rushing along my nerve endings. She pushed my legs apart and pressed into me, and the pleasure that rocketed through me almost brought me off the bed.

 

      Our energies collided, the friction grinding, causing my hunger to grow stronger with every beat of her pulse. As she caressed me, I caressed her. I felt her energy engulf my cock in long, powerful strokes until I pushed her down and did the same to her. I felt her climax swell like a sea inside her, churning and swirling. I kissed her and sucked her and pushed into her so hard and fast, she burst into a cascade of shimmering lights. The moment she came, I exploded as well. Only I wasn’t really inside her. I wasn’t really on top of her, and I came on my stomach, my jaw clenched, my muscles convulsing with each spasm of pleasure.

 

     When the orgasm died down, I threw an arm over my face and listened to the sound of my own labored breathing. That was one of the most incredible things that had ever happened to me.

 

     I reached out to her again, the enigma that was known across the universe as the daughter of light. “Come sleep with me,” I said.

 

     She didn’t answer, but I could hear her soft sighs as she panted into her pillow. So, I rolled out of bed to clean myself. I could feel her surveying me. I smiled. She kept watch until I crawled back into bed. With exhaustion quickly overtaking me, I repeated, “Come sleep with me.”

 

     I wasn’t sure if she responded or not. Apparently, I fell asleep like I generally fucked – hard and fast – because I didn’t remember anything else until I awoke to an overwhelming feeling of panic coming from Charley’s apartment.

 

 *This POV is a bonus chapter in Sixth Grave On the Edge by Darynda Jones

POV 1 book