My heart skitters at how harshly he barks out the word. The skin on my back pulls, reminding me that whatever they were supposed to do would have been so inhumane, I’d have been broken.
I take a deep breath and continue. “I will follow your plan. Get into the lodge. Get access to the weapons, and kill Rune.”
Reaper says nothing, but the tight grip on my hair loosens and I sense him shifting again, then I feel the heat of him move closer and his hand leaves my hair and skims along my jawline, almost delicate. His thumb grazes my bottom lip, then drags to my chin. He grips it harshly, and the domineering hardness returns to his touch.
Has he ever touched me so much? So freely? Outside of sex and a few rather violent and lust-fueled encounters, he’s rarely laid a hand on me.
Not like this. With such intent.
“After he’s dead, after the lodge is—” I falter, unsure about that part. He said someone else would just take his place, so that means they plan to eliminate everyone there. It makes the most sense. “Once the threat is removed, you will leave your father and no longer follow his commands.”
The silence is so heavy it feels like a hot, humid summer day. When the threat of a violent storm gathers overhead. Except this storm is in front of me, and I’m asking it to change itself. Remove all it knows and leave.
I know how that feels. To suddenly be asked to kill a part of your life, your history, and carry on blindly.
Taking a deep breath, I gather his scent into me, using his fire and heat to center my thoughts. “After it’s done. You leave him. All of you.”
It’s so silent, my breathing feels like it’s as loud as a train.
I sense him move again, hear leather creaking, feel the air shift. Taste his dark scent and feel his presence shift closer, soI know he’s crouched before me. I wonder if he's looking at me like he always does. Hungry and resentful. Warm fingers glide over my shoulder, pushing my hair back, then trail down my arm. My nipples tighten.
“And,” I say, breaths becoming ragged, my body aching for him, knowing what I’m asking may very well be impossible. “You’ll tell me everything. About the school. How you found out about the hunts.” I lick my lips, practically feeling his eyes tracking the movement. “And how Rune and Fallon know each other.”
He doesn’t respond and the silence stretches, longer and thinner. Then I feel his hands in my hair, fingers weaving through the strands. That softness has returned just as I knew it would. I wonder if his father has corrupted him to the point that he’s like him. Soft and sweet as long as their victim is compliant. Cruel and cutting when they don’t have complete control.
No.
Reaper is more.
And I’m no longer his victim.
The fingers woven in my hair leave, and he grips my arm. Reaper hauls me up, and I try not to wince as I stand. Once I’m upright, he drags his palm along my arm as he shifts behind me. He brushes my hair over my shoulder, and the tips of his fingers trail over my back like he’s touching each bruise. Goosebumps form on my arms under his delicate touch. When he moves in closer, the heat of him molds to my back, and I sink into his hard chest, absorbing his heat and fire and the desire that leaks from him. He curls around me, snaking an arm over my middle to hold me closer. I turn my head slightly, breathing him in, relishing his nearness.
Some shift has happened between us. A silent change in him. In me too. It started with his promise to keep us, morphedthat day in my room, chaining us together like I was chained to my bed. And he can’t take it back.
I won’t let him.
A warm breath fans my cheek, then lips press to my temple. “You’re a cunning little Kitty.”
Right as I’m reaching behind me, ready to take whatever he’s willing to give, the distant sound of a car door slamming makes us both still. He backs away, and cool air touches me everywhere.
Reaper’s boots thud on the wood floor, and the entire energy in the room seems to shift. Grow dark.
“Fuck,” he hisses, and my body goes stiff.
“What?” I whisper, needles prickling up my spine from his tone.
There’s movement and the thud of boots again. Reaper grips my arm and spins me. A second later, he rips the blindfold off and I’m staring at his bedroom door.
“Go to your room,” he orders, planting a palm on my back and shoving me forward. “Do not come out until myself or Striker comes for you.”
“What’s happening?”
“Do it,” he yells so loudly I jolt.
Questions swarm, but my heart’s beating too hard to speak. I’ve only ever heard that tone in his voice once before.
I take a step forward, but stop because I know I’m right. “He’s back, isn’t he?”
