A Soul to Heal (Duskwalker Brides, #2)

by Opal Reyne

“My little girl was a beautiful innocent that you destroyed!” “Innocent?” Delora let the shock of his words show in her widened eyes. “She had my husband’s cock inside her!” “Maybe if you looked like less of a fattened pig, then he may have been faithful to you.”

If this is the afterlife, I wish there was a way to die even further.

Delora grew terribly dismayed. She didn’t have the will for life, why would she have any strength left in her heart to teach a creature the ABCs of her kind?

“I am putting you in the sun.” “I’m not a plant, you know.”

he did something that she should have found horrifying and yet found remarkably... adorable. The Duskwalker placed his own foot against the bottom of hers to compare them.

“Your presence in my home has already eased this for me, and I wish to ease your hurt in return.”

Delicate and small? Those words hadn’t been used to describe her appearance in such a long time that she could barely believe they’d been uttered.

it was long enough to come above her knees, this wasn’t something she could just walk around in willy-nilly.

For the first time since she’d fallen on top of him all those days ago, her expression didn’t appear saddened or cold. It radiated with awe, and although her lips didn’t curl into any form of smile, the sparkle in her eyes was wonderous to him.

Is her ability to smile broken?

She likes it! Magnar almost bounced on his feet with glee,

Why is she staring at me like that? He didn’t know why his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. And why does she look so... pretty right now?

It was large and belonged to what anyone would call a monster. But Magnar had used that same hand to protect her, had used those deadly claws to touch her so gently that she’d shivered from the touch.

She couldn’t see his big Duskwalker ass walking through a human village in search of one.

his head turned sharply to the left and focused on something down the side of the house. He then backed up a step with his arms coming up as though to block. “Oh shit,” he said, right before Delora heard the thumping of quick footsteps coming their way.

“Why does it look dead?” He sniffed at it. “What did you do to it?” My-my soul looks dead?

“You big bonehead!” she yelled, pointing in her very direction. “Look over there! You’re probably scaring the shit out of her.”

I would like to touch your hair and make it nice for you.” How could such a simple request make her heart stutter?

“I would have eaten you, if not for her.” Then he quickly averted his gaze by turning his snout one way and then the other. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Perhaps I should not have said that.”

She soon started clamping erratically around him as liquid gushed from her. “That!” he groaned, nearly panting to the point he was choking. His voice kept changing in tone, in darkness, in huskiness, revealing how little control he truly had over himself. “Again. Come again, Delora. I want to smell it. I want to feel it.”

That is so damn hot!!!

Magnar wanted to pin her down, to pin her so completely she would know who the master was.

Loyalty, affection, pleasure, protection... and warmth. To be treated both delicately because she was a woman who deserved to be treasured like valuable crystal, and to be rutted passionately, hard and rough, because she’d ignited such uncontrollable yearning.

“Welcome to the horny Duskwalker club.”

learning that Magnar kept running away because he was thinking with his dick was too much to bear.

it wasn’t really the house she was missing, but Magnar.

the kindness she radiated was nothing he’d ever experienced before. Delora was forgiving. He was a Mavka, one that still had much to learn and was lacking in humanity, yet she never made him feel... less because of it. Not because she’d never insulted him, which she hadn’t, but because she tried to make sure he was comfortable in asking his questions to her. Delora allowed Magnar to be himself, and he knew himself to be very flawed.

She kissed me!

“You were supposed to catch them,” she croaked in a groggy, panted voice. How was I supposed to know that?

Delora said quietly. “Don’t do something you know I wouldn’t be okay with.” Magnar gave a curt whine in response. “Consent is something that is really important, Magnar,” she continued. “It matters in everything we do. When you receive it, it creates trust, and when you do something against someone’s will or knowledge, it breaks it. I understand you were doing something you felt was right, and maybe it was, but that still doesn’t give you the right to hurt my trust in you. Sometimes trust can’t be regained, so be careful.” “You will not trust me anymore?” The dejected and sincere sorrow she heard in his tone made her heart squeeze. “I forgive you this time.”

“I wasn’t hurt. But if I had been, I could have lost my trust in you, Magnar. If I had a nightmare for some reason, something you know I’ve been having, I would have smelled of fear. You may not have been able to react quick enough to stop them from hurting me, and I would have woken up already scared and then even more petrified. I would have felt betrayed because you had allowed it.” “I am sorry,” he answered quietly. “I did not think about your nightmares.” It was lucky that it didn’t happen, especially since I’ve had some the past few nights. “If I don’t trust you, I won’t want to be here anymore,” she said truthfully. The only sturdy bridge between them was that she trusted in him. If that fell, Delora wouldn’t want to be near him, wouldn’t want to be touched. She wouldn’t want to even speak or look at him. She needed that bridge to stand on, or she’d fall into the river of failure below it and drown.

If they do, Magnar will just heal you. Then she would go inside and try again another day. Or never. It really depended on what happened.

Then their small, weirdly soft hands grabbed her fist before they gave her a lick. A tiny, gentle, little lick.

“If you speak–” Magnar started, before they shot their head in his direction. “It will help.” “H-hello,” she greeted hesitantly. They turned their face to her and then twisted their head like she’d often seen Magnar do. Then they scampered on her shoulder, almost as if with joy. A mix of emotions fluttered through her, and she relaxed even further.

They’re a baby. It doesn’t matter what kind or what species. They’re just a baby that wanted the comfort of their mother.” And with the dissipation of her fear, love bloomed in its place. The spirit between his antlers brightened, and although it had places on its body that were still charcoal, it was brighter than before.

Magnar knew he wouldn’t stop killing until every human in this vicinity was dead. His rage wasn’t mindless, it was calculated, thought out to make sure that nothing and no one could follow him in order to protect Delora and Fyodor.

If the world wanted to treat him a certain way because of the way he was born, something he couldn’t control nor change, and dare to harm the few creatures in his life he wanted to care for and protect, then Magnar would give it what it wanted – an ugly, ferocious monster.

Delora hadn’t known that if she turned intangible while holding Fyodor their body would become ghostly too.

Would Magnar gaining more humanity be the solution she needed? Or would it be the final strike that left Delora in a cold place where she was forced to live a life she didn’t want?

She’d asked for his hand when bringing Fyodor into the world, but he’d just thought it was because she needed to squeeze the absolute crap out of something.

Magnar reflected on their conversation and how it’d turned out. Like a habit he hadn’t fully shed yet, he lifted his hand to his snout so he could tap a claw at the tip of it. That’s what breasts are for? To make milk for their younglings? And here he had been, stupidly thinking Delora’s breasts existed to be played with by him, considering she’d liked it whenever he touched them.

This is fucking hilarious!

With a very quiet whisper, he said, “You have such sensitive ears, my little raven. It makes me always want to play with them.”

“You’re aroused. I can smell it.” Delora thought she was about to combust when he rumbled those words against her ear, forcing a high-pitched cry from her. “You smell like you’re dripping wet for me, like you need to be touched.”

Delora didn’t know what would happen to her if Magnar was to die, but she didn’t care about that. All she knew was this world deserved that big, sweet, sometimes clueless Duskwalker alive to see it for what it was. That it was colourful. That it had beauty even in a horrible place like the Veil.

“My mate adores the other Mavka’s female,” she rasped with panted breaths, sitting on top of the Demon with her shoulders slumping. She stared down at his bleeding corpse. “He was so cheerful that night after she came to his bookstore. He’d always wanted to speak with one, to meet the creatures who had written the books he loves so dearly.” She darted her head to the side to look at him. There was pain in her cat-shaped red eyes.