Her Immortal Three: Paranormal Fantasy Reverse Harem

Her Immortal Three:

Paranormal Fantasy Reverse Harem

By

Larisa Long

Copyright ©2018, 2019 by Larisa A. Long

This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are fiction. Any similarity to any real persons, characters, events or incidents is entirely coincidental. All Rights Reserved.

Any trademarks, service marks, or product names are assumed to be property of their respective owners. No endorsement is implied.

For my parents who have always challenged me to follow my dreams.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Soulers Realm

Chapter 2: The Mids

Chapter 3: England to Witches Realm

Chapter 4: Oquesra

Chapter 5: Promises

Chapter 6: Meeting

Chapter 7: A Reaper and a Faerie

Chapter 8: Everything's New

Chapter 9: Warnings

Chapter 10: Arc Unaligned

Chapter 11: Arc Aligned

Chapter 12: Taken

Chapter 13: Arc's Soul

Chapter 14: Zash

Chapter 15: Blu

Chapter 16: The Auction

Chapter 17: Day by Day

Chapter 18: Witches Rule

Chapter 19: Everything Changes

Chapter 20: The New Rules

Chapter 21: Don't Reign Yourself

Chapter 22: Choose Wisely

Chapter 23: The First Reign

Chapter 24: The Tenth Reign

Chapter 25: Sacrifices

More by Larisa Long

Chapter 1: Soulers Realm

Zash studied the barren, gray landscape. The wind constantly whipped up the sand into various taunting shapes, but the hollow sounds of silence were more dreadful than anything a mind could conjure. Even after traveling years, Zash was still in Soulers Realm, the birthplace of all reapers. He had no particular destination, but he vowed to keep his distance from other reapers. He was also an empath. The rarest of all sixteen reaper classes. Empaths weren’t trusted by anyone especially other reapers.

Reapers took souls from the dead or dying or even the perfectly healthy. They could guide them to another realm or to their next destination or turn them to dust so that nothing of them remained. Being able to feel every emotion of those being reaped was agony. Most reapers just got on with it, but empath reapers lost themselves in the lives once lived. The hopes and the regrets. Because of the emotional toll, empath reapers only reaped a quarter of what other reapers did. Some thought them to be lazy. Others thought they were too soft, but no one ever wished they were an empath reaper. Not ever.

They should be rare, Zash whispered. He could read thoughts, understand emotions, but Zash hadn’t felt another soul for six months. He knew he was alone.

As his eyes gazed across the gray sands that rippled out as far as his eyes could see, he wondered if other colors existed. Even the sky was gray. Sometimes it was a light gray, sometimes ashen, but always gray. Why wouldn’t reapers want color? Zash found a dead or dying tree and sat down with his back to the crumbling trunk that sighed against the pressure of Zash’s weight. Zash didn’t ask the tree about anything. It was a ryalo, and they were known to be very dramatic. They could speak for hours about the simplest of things, but couldn’t speak until spoken too. Zash was safe as long as he didn’t acknowledge the tree. Zash leaned farther back, ignoring the even louder sighs, and closed his eyes for just a bit.

Reapers didn’t have to sleep, but he wanted to see her again. He had to see her again. The same girl he’d been seeing since he was a boy. Red hair. Blue eyes. At least that was what Zash thought those colors were called. She also had the fairest skin he’d ever seen. She was the only color his eyes had ever witnessed, and Zash didn’t even know if she was real. Does she exist? The way she looked at him. The way she made him feel. He touched his heart. The only time he’d ever felt it quiver or beat was when he closed his eyes to see her.

He didn’t know her name. Didn’t know what she was. He guessed human, but he’d never seen one of them before.

Zash kept his eyes closed to soak in the vision of his red haired girl and the color that surrounded her. He memorized every single inch of her. The way her eyes lit up when she looked at him. The way her smile hitched just a little higher on one side than the other. He knew she was his, and he was hers. It didn’t make sense, and he could never say it aloud. He knew it. Deep into his heart and soul and every cell that made him who he was.

Zash couldn’t be just a reaper. That was what he’d felt his entire life. Others could reap without thinking, but there was always something different about Zash. The things he did haunted him. Even though he never reaped anyone who didn’t request it, reaping made Zash feel like he was getting farther away from his true purpose. Every being he reaped, he felt even more alone. He couldn’t explain it any other way.

He forced himself to open his eyes. He only gave himself a few minutes each day to see her. Any more would be too painful. Comparing her world of color with his drab world of muted grays was too much. He was afraid he’d get lost in her and never be able to face his colorless reality.

His gaze took in the miles and miles of gray sand, barely alive stick trees and the vultures flying high above him. They’d been his only company for the last few weeks. There’s got to be something more than this.

Maybe, one of the vultures said.

Zash looked up at the limb directly above him and stared into the black eyes of the vulture. You the one been following me?

Maybe, the vulture said again. You couldn’t tell one of us from another, could you? The vulture tried his best to bend his wings as if he was folding his arms across his chest. It wasn’t a successful gesture, but Zash got the drift.

Zash studied the vulture. The bird did look familiar, but Zash already willed himself to forget his past. Forget his parents, his brothers, forget everything he’d ever known. It was tradition that reapers left home when they were of age. They had to find their own way. Most were never heard from again. It was easier that way. The ceremony to cut all ties cut all memories as well. That way, there was nothing to mourn, no one to return to, nothing but darkness ahead and behind. Reapers couldn’t carry sentiment. Most reapers couldn’t feel anything at all. They were a shell that carried out their purpose without question or thought.

Poor empath reaper, the vulture said, picking something out of his beak. Poor Zash so different from all the other reapers.

What do you know of it, bird?

The vulture spewed and squawked. We’re not independent beings who can go out and find our own meals.

Okay. Zash didn’t know what that had to do with anything.

We’re the vulture reapers… The bird waited, but Zash didn’t even flinch.

The vulture jumped up and down to make a generalized fuss. The only thing he did was lose a few feathers. He finally gave up and relaxed a bit. Didn’t your ancestors teach you anything?

Zash didn’t remember anything about a reaper vulture. He just thought there were reapers and there were vultures, and never the twain would meet. Maybe there were different types of vultures, but they were birds nonetheless.

The vulture sighed loudly. This is your future.

Zash whipped around quickly which scared some of the sand dunes making them flatter than they were before as if hiding from the reaper. Speak clearly, bird.

Oh… The vulture smiled. That got your attention, didn’t it?

Zash looked around for something to throw, but the vulture squawked at him loudly as if warning him not to become violent. Harming me would be very perilous for you.

What would you do to me? Zash growled. What could you do to me? You know what I am.

Of course. The vulture managed to roll his eyes. I was you.

Zash stepped back as he allowed that thought to swirl a bit before settling. Ridiculous. He left the semi-shade of the dramatic tree and stomped away, but the vulture didn’t let him get too far. The vulture dove at Zash pecking a chunk of skin off his head.

Zash grabbed his head quickly. Did you just?

Remember this day, empath reaper.

Zash concentrated his energy and pictured the bird. He envisioned the anatomy, the heart, the soul. The vulture landed right in front of Zash and pecked at his knee. You can’t reap me. I’m a reaper as well. You know the rules.

Zash ignored the bird. You don’t reap a soul. You feed on entrails.

The vulture coughed something up. Not my favorite meal. Some things are so hard to gag down. It is part of who I am now so I adjust. I’ve been watching you since you were a boy, Zash.

Zash didn’t recognize anything familiar about him. You look just like every other vulture.

Huh. Maybe you should look closer. The vulture used his wing to point to his eyes.

Zash leaned in closer. Within seconds, the vulture’s black eyes flashed silver. Silver? Impossible. Only reapers have silver eyes.

The vulture spread his wings out. This is what we become. This is your future.

Zash turned around and walked away from the bird, but the bird flew in front of him again. Listen to me.

Zash ignored the bird and turned around again to head in the opposite direction. I’ve never heard of reapers becoming birds.

The bird again blocked Zash’s path. Then what do reapers become? The vulture let his wings fall to the ground, and he tapped the gray sand. Well?

Zash searched his training. His learning. The books he devoured as a child. All reapers had to learn about every single species. They had to know anatomy, where each soul resided, how to read the past, present and future of everyone. Zash knew about every creature in every realm even if he’d never see half of them. Not possible. Reapers can’t become birds of prey.

Ha, one of the forgotten texts that was kept from you.

Zash didn’t trust the bird. He didn’t believe the bird. He ignored the bird. He wanted to walk away and never look back. It was hard to admit, but it was a nice distraction from wandering day and night in the muted abyss.

If you don’t accept your destiny…

Zash backed up. Accept my destiny? He put his arms out mimicking what the vulture had done. I’m an empath. I’m a reaper. Believe me, I’ve accepted. He pointed towards the right. I’m going over there. Do not follow.

The vulture waited until Zash had walked a bit but was still close enough to hear him. You can find her. Zash stopped but didn’t turn around. Another trick. The vulture knew he had Zash’s attention. He could hear his heart start beating the moment he mentioned her. He waited just long enough to irritate Zash and then flew to him. The girl you think of. The one in your dreams filled with color. The one with red hair and blue eyes.

Zash tried to keep himself calm, but he could hear his own heartbeat echo around him. You can read my thoughts. Congratulations.

Reapers can’t read other reapers. You know this.

Zash did know that, but if there were hidden texts. Hidden knowledge. What else didn’t he know?

She needs you. We all do. The vulture spread his wings out. You can have this… He waited until Zash followed where his wings pointed. He didn’t have to point in any specific direction. Every single direction for thousands of miles looked the same. Barren. Muted. Sad. Dead. Or … you can have her. A life of color and love.

Zash jolted at that word. Love? He shook his head. Reapers don’t love. Our mates are chosen when the time is right, and we reproduce. It’s as romantic as it sounds.

Don’t you want love, Zash? The vulture knew he had Zash’s attention. He couldn’t falter now. Everything depended upon convincing him. Don’t you think you deserve love?

Zash shook his head. Tricks and lunacy. He closed his eyes a moment. Maybe I am going crazy.

If you remain here, you’ll only find what you see in front of you. You’ll become so despondent you’ll eventually die in your present form and wake up like me… The vulture waited until Zash opened his eyes. He had one chance to convince him or everyone was lost. You’ll be relegated to following around sad reapers waiting to snack on leftovers.

Zash grimaced. He always knew a life of a reaper wasn’t exactly fun, but he didn’t want to think in specifics. He was born a reaper. He’d die a reaper. There were no other options or life paths. What choice do I have?

The vulture took a deep breath. He couldn’t mess this up. He was chosen among all the species to convince the empath reaper. He had to. Oquesra.

Zash flinched at the name. He’d heard of the place, but there was nothing there for him. There were humans who had grown in power and become reigns of all the others who lived there. He’d heard the horror stories of survivors and refugees who made their way to safety. Each of the realms had to decide how many they would offer protection. He’d hoped they were exaggerating the horrors.

And what do you think that creature you dream about is if not human?

Zash’s heart stirred again. His red haired beauty. Could she really be his? Is she human? Would a human possibly love a reaper? Is she there? Zash was surprised when he heard his own voice asking that question. Could I be so gullible?

The vulture paused just long enough to convince Zash he was thinking about his question. He wasn’t. He already knew. She’s not there yet, but she will be.

"So, why go to