Chapter Twenty-One
Reaper
I 'm on my way back home after a long evening of decorating my latest victim’s expensive home with pieces of his severed body and bones. This scumbag was head of a local sex trafficking operation.
Not anymore.
I really hope they can locate all his body parts. It’ll be a fun little scavenger hunt that I wish I could watch.
I removed all ten of his fingers and placed them in separate areas of the home. One in a dying plant and a few on a ceiling fan blade. When the switch gets turned on, it will rain down severed digits. The thought makes me smile. I placed one of his pinkies in a coffee mug that read World's Best Dad . The rest found a home in the bottom of a toilet, under his pillow for the finger fairy, and in a vacuum. I stitched his legs where his arms originally went and vice versa. Sat him up real proper on his white couch which quickly turned crimson, and I left his severed head on his lap. Before I took my leave, I threw his prick in the microwave for twenty minutes.
I’m fucking exhausted.
And now here I am, sitting in goddamn city traffic when I just want to get home and take a shower.
The sky begins a downpour of heavy rain. Great. Now everyone will be driving like even more fucking idiots. Either too damn slow or too reckless.
I make it down a few more blocks at a snail pace and find myself getting more and more impatient.
I look at the time, 1:35 AM. Thirty minutes have already passed. I should have been close to home by now.
Suddenly the sky lights up with a huge streak of lightning shooting across. Then the expected loud crack and boom.
Fuck.
Charlotte.
I try peering past the cars in front of me to see how backed up it is, but it's no use. I can barely see past the heavy rain.
I slam my palms on the steering wheel.
Fucking hell.
I’m imagining her shaking and scared, looking for me, needing comfort, my comfort, and I'm not there for her.
If this storm was a tangible thing, I'd take it in my hands and squeeze it until it shattered.
“Fuck!” I shout.
I'm coming, Charlotte.
Pissed and determined, I yank the wheel, spinning the car in the opposite direction, away from my original destination. My foot presses harder on the gas as I speed down a few blocks, the blur of streetlights reflecting off the rain-slick pavement. The road curves sharply, but I barely ease off the accelerator, gripping the wheel tighter as I turn onto a narrow path that’s more alley than street—clearly not meant for cars but just wide enough to squeeze through.
The tires hit a puddle on the other side with a splash that sends water arcing onto a couple of pedestrians already scrambling to escape the downpour. They shout something indistinct over the rain, but I don't look back. A hard right puts me back on the road home, heading straight to Charlotte.
Minutes later, I pull into the garage, cut the engine, and bolt inside. My feet barely touch the stairs as I take them two at a time to the basement. Clothes hit the floor in a trail behind me, and I’m under the scalding spray of the shower before I’ve even processed what I’m doing.
Tossing the wet towel to the ground, I sprint up two flights of stairs and enter Charlotte's room. Thunder rocks our world again and I find her in a ball under the covers trembling.
“Charlotte, I'm here. I'm here,” I say as I slide in behind her and pull her into me.
“Reaper,” she whispers and turns toward me, pressing her cheek against my bare chest.
“I got here as quickly as I could when I heard the storm. There was so much damn traffic.”
“It's okay. Thank you.”
Her quivering slowly ceases as she relaxes in my arms, and I melt into her. My heart rate and breathing slow, and I feel… peaceful.
“Reaper?”
“Huh? Yea?”
“Are you… naked?”
Ah, fuck.
“Um… yea… I just wanted to get to you as soon as possible and skipped the dressing part.”
“Oh my god!” She pushes away from me; hands still pressed to my chest and looks at me with wide horrified eyes. “I can’t believe you’re buck-ass naked right now.”
“It’s not like you haven’t seen me like this before.”
“Yea, seen being the keyword there. Now I have your bare body parts all pressed up against me and shit.”
I grunt and roll my eyes.
“If you rather I—”
BOOM .
Charlotte startles and latches on to me like an octopus.
“No. No. Stay.” A deep chuckle leaves my throat. “Just don't make this weird, okay?”
“My dick is lying against your thigh. How much weirder can it get.”
“Oh my god! Reaper! Just don't… talk about your willy right now. Okay?”
“My willy ?”
“Ugh. Just stop. I'm going to pretend you're not naked and you’re not going to mention your manly bits again.”
“Sure thing. No willy talk.”
She mumbles something, and I hope she feels the chuckle that rumbles through me.
Charlotte
I'm pressed up against Reaper in his bed in nothing but a loose shirt and panties. So much of my bare flesh is touching his naked body and it sends my nerves tingling. Being this close to him, my cheek resting on his firm chest, I can hear his steady heartbeat, and my god, he smells amazing.
He smells like an ocean storm. Aromatic, invigorating, mysterious with a hint of leather. It hits me like an intoxicating midnight breeze across salty ruthless waves. Despite the chaos of the storm over us, his refreshing scent makes me feel calm and safe .
I find myself feeling more drawn to him like how the tides are drawn to the moon. It's too powerful, something I can't refuse.
He feels safe.
He feels like home.
“Do you think you could sleep in bed every night? Like, even without thunderstorms? I just… I seem to sleep better when you're here.”
A long pause stretches between us and I begin to feel so fucking stupid. I sound like a child. I already feel like an idiot being afraid of thunderstorms and now I think I just made it worse. “I’m sorry, it's silly—”
“It's not silly. This bed is big enough for the both of us and as much as the couch is comfortable, I miss this bed. It’s a win-win.”
I wonder if he can feel my smile against his chest.
“Tell me something, Reaper.”
“Like?”
“Anything. Everything.”
A silence grows between us as he thinks before he lets out a long sigh.
“Cecelia, the name on my arm, it’s not a former lover. It’s my sister’s name.”
“You have a sister?”
“I had a sister. She’s gone.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry. You don't have to talk about it.”
Geez, way to ruin the moment, Charlotte.
Reaper takes a deep breath before he continues, “I've never talked about it with anyone besides the police. She was taken from me. Killed in front of me and my father.”
I quickly sit up and look at him through the darkness. Only a sliver of moonlight illuminates part of his beautiful somber face.
“Jesus. How old were you? ”
“Seventeen. Cece was seven.”
“Oh my god, Reaper. I’m so fucking sorry."
“It was my father’s fault. Messing with the wrong people. They tried to kill me too. They thought they did.”
My eyes move to his neck. “Your scar.”
“For the longest time, I wished I did die that night. The guilt for not being able to save Cece ate me alive every day. I had nightmares every night for months. Over time, they became less frequent but the pain is still there.”
I place my hand on his arm, offering comfort as he lies on his back staring at the mirrored ceiling.
“There was a homeless man who was living in the abandoned factory where it all went down. He saw the whole thing, but was understandably too afraid to make a move or sound. When the men left after slicing my neck and killing my father, he used a pay-phone across the street and called for help. They got to me just in time. The cut wasn't deep enough but I did lose consciousness and a shit ton of blood to the point where I almost died from it. A bunch of stitches, a blood transfusion, and months of recovery later, I vowed to find those men and kill them.”
“Did you? Did you find them?”
“I did. It took a few years, but I wanted to be prepared. Those three men were my first kills at twenty-one. Every bone they broke on my sister, I tripled with them. I loved every second of it. I replaced the haunting sounds of her broken bones and screams with theirs and I've never stopped since.”
I stare at him with awe and a new sense of appreciation and understanding.
I move my hand to his and gently squeeze.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. I think Cece would be proud of her big brother and all the people he saves.”
He places his other hand on top of mine and finally looks at me .
“The storm passed,” he says.
I listen for another round of thunder but silence fills the air. I stopped noticing once he started his story. He knew that would distract me enough.
I smile.
“It sure did.”
A few quiet minutes pass before Reaper speaks again.
“You said your father isn’t really in your life? What about your mother?”
I sigh. I guess since Reaper shared something so personal, I should too.
“My mother left when I was only three. My father told me later that she wasn’t ready to be a mother—that she panicked, left, and never came back. I can’t say I have any memories of her, which I guess is for the best. But my father… he took it hard. She was the love of his life, and she gave us up. After that, he turned to drinking. A lot. Too much.
“For a long time, I hated him for it. I had a mother who abandoned me and a father who chose alcohol over me. It was… hard. Really hard.
“But now, looking back, I can see that he was suffering in ways I didn’t understand at the time. He was trying, even though he was hurting. Our relationship eventually got better, but it’s still not what most people would call typical. He’s still fighting his addiction, and I just try to be as supportive as I can.”
“I’m so sorry. That is a tough situation for both of you. You’ve never heard from your mom?”
“Nope. Don’t really want to either. She can drop dead for all I care. How I see it, she took away my childhood and ruined my dad’s life. I blame her for it all. Maybe that’s part of the rage I have in me.”
“Want me to kill her?” He jokes… or maybe he’s serious.
“No.” I laugh. “I can only hope she has a miserable life with the choice she made.”
“It’s absolutely her loss. She missed out on knowing one special woman.”
“You think I’m special?” I drawl, dragging out the last word.
“Something like that. You know you’re always such a fucking delight. Especially with your special talent for annoying me, that's for sure."
I swat him on his chest. “You love it.”
He doesn't respond but I feel his body shake with a silent laugh.