24. SIREN
24
SIREN
W aking up to a lonely bed, I pull the sheets back before rubbing at my tired eyes. It was a long night. I was out of the handcuffs within seconds, but the problem came when trying to navigate my way out of the caves. I got lost at least twenty times and had to start leaving markers to know if I was walking a path that had already been walked.
I wasn’t impressed, and just to be a stubborn, petty asshole about it, I stayed out the rest of the day and then made a point of sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms, doing everything in my power to ignore the beast-like man who has thrown my world into the sweetest chaos. The only issue is, I know for a fact that I went to bed in the spare room, yet somehow, I’m waking up in the main bed, and I have no idea how that happened. Some top super killer I am.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I grab my phone and make my way into the bathroom, quickly handling business and getting myself ready for the day. As I shower and change, I chat away to Mila, checking in to let her know I’m still alive and telling her all about the insanity that was yesterday.
We chat for almost an hour, and by the time I venture out of the main room and down the hall toward the kitchen, Mila and I have covered just about everything from the color of Reaper’s man nips right down to the way my thong is wedged right up my ass.
She’s right in the middle of telling me all about some new tech software that’s supposed to be released this month, and as she raves all about it, I walk into the kitchen and come to a startling halt. A big pink gift-wrapped box sits right in the middle of the kitchen counter with my name scrawled in messy boy handwriting, and a stupid smile pulls across my lips.
“What is it?” Mila asks.
“Huh?”
“You gasped,” she tells me.
“I gasped?”
“Yes.”
“Well shit,” I laugh, not having even realized. “There’s a box,” I tell her as I stride toward it, sparing a smile for Shadow, who sits next to the box, not caring in the slightest about its sudden appearance in our kitchen.
“What kind of box?” Mila questions, sounding suspicious.
“A gift-wrapped one with my name on it.”
“Oooooh,” she says excitedly before switching the flip. “Wait. It could be a trap. Does it say who it’s from?”
Pulling the phone away, I switch the call over to FaceTime before turning it around and showing Mila the large box. “I don’t know,” I tell her just as Shadow cuts in, not bothering to turn her gaze away from the bowl of cereal before her. “It’s not a bomb, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s from Reaper.”
“Oooooh. It’s gotta be an apology for leaving you stranded in that cave yesterday,” Mila cuts in as giddiness flourishes through me. “That’s kinda romantic.”
I don’t have a lot of people in my life and wasn’t one to ever receive birthday presents growing up, and to have someone care enough for me to get me something means more than Reaper could ever know. All I ever wanted as a kid was to have what the other kids had, and unfortunately, that wasn’t a reality for me. I had to work for everything I got, and when Mila came into the picture, the two of us pushed ourselves to the brink of exhaustion until we were capable of having the life we wanted for ourselves. Any gift we bought each other was slaved over, and to receive this gift now . . . It could be a moldy banana, and I’d still be grateful for the thought.
Moving closer to the table, I inspect the pretty box, trying to decipher what could possibly be inside, and judging by Shadow’s lack of interest, I can only assume that she already knows what hides within.
I reach for the big pink bow right on top, and as I start to pull it apart, Mila giggles with excitement. “Holy fucking shit,” she rushes out. “Hurry up and open it.”
A stupid smile stretches across my face, and I tug the bow harder, releasing the pretty ribbon before lifting the lid off the box and setting it aside. I glance down into the box and suck in a breath as the decapitated head of The Executioner stares back at me, the blade still protruding from his eye. But on top of that, the very ID Reaper had plucked off the dirty cave ground and taken off with rests peacefully on top of The Executioner’s forehead.
“Wait,” Mila grunts, certainly having a very different idea of what constitutes romance. “Is that—”
“The Executioner’s head served to me literally on a silver platter?” I say, finishing her sentence as Shadow decides she’s suddenly interested enough to peer up from her cereal and glance inside the box. “It sure is.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“No,” I say with a soft sigh, my heart filling with the sweetest joy. “It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Reaper chooses that exact moment to walk through the front door, his glorious tattoos on display as his shirt dangles from his shoulder. His body is coated in a sheer layer of sweat, and judging by the way every single one of his strong muscles bulge from his sculpted body, it’s clear he’s just put himself through one hell of a workout.
His gaze comes to mine the second the door closes behind him, and as he holds my stare, my heart races faster than it’s ever raced before. “You got me a head in a box,” I whisper as he watches me from across the room, waiting to see what he’s about to walk into.
“I fucked you under a waterfall and then abandoned you in a cave,” he tells me as though I hadn’t experienced it all myself. “You refused to sleep in my bed, so I figured I owed you an apology.”
I go to respond when Shadow gets to her feet, her face scrunched up in disgust. “Gross,” she mutters before reaching into the box and grabbing the handle of the blade. She yanks it out, and The Executioner’s eyeball goes right along with it, and with her prize in hand, she struts down the hall and takes herself to her room.
Reaper scoffs as he makes his way toward me. “She finds the idea of me fucking you gross but has no issue carrying around a dead man’s eyeball.”
A stupid smile cuts across my face, and I can’t help but laugh. “She’s thirteen. I don’t think we’re supposed to understand her.”
Reaper steps right into me, wrapping his arms around my body and grabbing my ass before lifting me up and settling me on the edge of the kitchen counter, right next to the one-eyed head. He moves right between my legs, his hands resting on my thighs as his gaze locks heavily onto mine. “Did I fuck up?” he asks just as the familiar sound of a call ending comes from my phone, reminding me that I was in the middle of a FaceTime call with Mila. Well, not anymore. I’ll have to remember to call her back.
I shake my head as my arms wind around his neck. “No.”
“But you slept in a different bed,” he tells me. “I didn’t fucking like it. My time with you is limited, and I don’t want to waste it like that.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, leaning in and brushing my lips over his. “I was being petty and stubborn. I’ve never been good at accepting when someone gets the better of me, and yesterday . . . You kicked my ass. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t even figure my way out of that stupid cave. I should have known better.”
“Don’t—” he starts.
“No,” I say. “It’s okay. I’ve made so many mistakes during these games, and I hate myself for it. I’m better than this.”
“What does it matter?” he asks. “We’re both fucking dying in eleven days. So what if we fuck up and make mistakes? To be honest, I don’t even give a shit about the games anymore. All that matters to me is spending what little time we have left making you happy.”
“Speaking of what little time we have left,” I murmur, lowering my voice so that Shadow doesn’t hear me from down the hall. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and what if we didn’t kill each other? This thing between us . . . this is more real than anything I’ve ever had, and I’m not ready to let it go because of some bullshit games. I don’t want this to end.”
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about the same thing,” he tells me. “But we’d be opening ourselves up for a life on the run. We’d be hunted every fucking day. Is that the life you really want? You would never be able to go home, never be able to see Mila again. It’d just be me and you with a fucking bounty on our heads.”
“And Shadow.” His brow arches, and I continue. “As if I’m about to leave her to go back to whatever bullshit life she came from. She’s better off with us.”
“Siren—”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t agree with me. You know I’m right.”
Reaper lets out a heavy sigh before lifting me off the counter, walking us through to the living room, and dropping down onto the couch. I straddle his lap and sit up against his strong thighs, my fingers brushing against the sharp ridges of his abs.
“You are right,” he tells me. “I’m not ready to let you go, but I don’t see how we could possibly get out of Blue Springs without submitting ourselves to a life of hell. I’m a hunter, Siren. I’m not prey. And the only way we’re getting out of here is in body bags.”
Leaning into him, I wrap my arms around the back of his neck as I snuggle into his chest. “I just . . . I can’t do it,” I tell him, feeling completely helpless about our situation. “I can’t kill you, and I won’t stand back to allow anybody else to do it either. Not even Shadow. I can’t . . . fuck. I can’t lose you yet. I’m not ready. I want a life with you, Reaper. I want everything. I want to love you.”
His body stiffens, and he glances down at me, that dark, lethal stare locking onto mine. “Are you in love with me, Siren?”
I swallow over the lump in my throat, unsure what to say. A man like Reaper doesn’t strike me as the type who’s capable of handling declarations of love, but I’m not willing to lie to him, not if we only have eleven days left. “I think so,” I tell him truthfully. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. I don’t know if this is what love feels like, but if it is, then yes. I’ve never been so in love in my life.”
His arm locks around my back, and he pulls me in tighter, our bodies pressed together as one. “It’s okay, my sweet Siren. I won’t let anything happen to you. Nobody is taking you away from me.”
My brows furrow. A minute ago he was telling me the only way we’re getting out of Blue Springs is if we were carted out in body bags, and now suddenly, nobody is going to take me away from him? Why would he . . . unless . . .
I lift my gaze, meeting his hollow stare again, and I see it clear as day. The same overwhelming emotions that cause havoc inside my chest lie right there in his eyes. “You’re in love with me too,” I state, knowing it without a single doubt.
“Yes, Siren.”
I drop my gaze and rest back into his chest as his strong arms hold me in a way I’ve never been held before. “Shit,” I murmur, not knowing where to go from here.
“My thoughts exactly.”
We sit in comfortable silence for almost an hour, both of us deep in our own thoughts, when his hand brushes down my arm. “Tell me why the sound of your own name pains you so much?” he asks, his voice so welcoming that it takes me a moment to understand what he’s actually asking. After repeating the question in my head, my heart lurches, fear raining down over me, but I quickly realize that he’s not asking to gloat. He’s not looking for information to use as a weapon against me; he simply wants to understand who I am and what made me the way that I am.
I let out a heavy breath, my gaze dropping to his chest. “I was only six when my mother was murdered,” I tell him. “We weren’t exactly well off, and from what brief memories I have, it wasn’t exactly a happy home, but my mom . . . She only ever wanted the world for me. She was my best friend, and I remember that, no matter the circumstances, she would make everything better. My father, on the other hand—”
“Shit, Siren. It’s okay. You don’t need to share this if it’s too much.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” I take a shaky breath before figuring out how to explain the evil, vile man that was my father. “My memories of my father are . . . jaded. I don’t remember him in the same way. I only remember the constant yelling and how my mother would hide me behind her leg every time he would start ranting at her about dinner not being ready or the house being a mess. He made her sad, and because of that, he made me sad too. I think he struggled with mental health, but I was too young to know what that was or to even realize that he needed help.”
“You were six, Siren. It wasn’t your responsibility to care for the health of the adults in your life.”
“I know that,” I tell him. “But I can’t help but wonder if I had, maybe things would have been different.”
His fingers skim across my waist and return to my arm, holding me tight against his warm chest. “What happened?”
“My memories of that night have always been fuzzy, but from what Mila and I were able to find from the police records, my father had been sacked from his job, and he came home drunk with a gun. The neighbors had mentioned they heard yelling and called for help, only they were too late. He shot and killed my mom in our living room, tried to kill me, then turned the gun on himself.”
My eyes fill with unshed tears, and I do what I can to blink them back as I reach down between us and find the hem of my tank, pulling it up just enough so that he can see the scarring on my ribs. “He shot me through the chest and punctured a lung, and as I screamed for my dead mother, I was forced to watch as he held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.” I lower my shirt back down just as he goes to reach for it, and now that he knows, I’m not sure I can handle him touching me there. “That vision has stuck with me for eighteen years. Every time I close my eyes.”
Reaper’s hands fall to my thighs, gently squeezing. “I’m sorry, Siren. I had no idea.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Nobody does. I asked Mila to scrub it from existence. I didn’t want anyone finding out and being able to use it as a weapon against me or have access to the crime scene photos that went along with it.”
He nods in understanding. “Shit, baby. I’m sorry I brought it up, but I’m struggling to see how it pertains to the use of your real name.”
A sad smile pulls at the corners of my lips, and despite how agonizing that story is to share, it’s what happened after that has caused me the most grief over the years. “I was in the hospital for months following the shooting. Day after day, I was alone. All I had were the nurses and doctors who cared for me, and the day I was finally released, I had a caseworker buckle me up into her car, drive me halfway across the state, and drop me off at a home with a family I’d never met. I had nothing left of my old life, no memories of my mother to take with me, only the name she’d given me.”
“Kienna James,” he murmurs, and as the words come out of his mouth, I realize they don’t hurt as much as they once did.
I nod. “My life became intertwined with my new foster family, and they weren’t good people. They never hurt me or tried to touch me, but they resented me for whatever reason, and as that got worse, they used my name as a taunt, and I realized that I had to hold on to it with everything that I had. It was all I had, and I wasn’t going to let these people destroy it. I spiraled from there. I was only with them for a few months before bouncing to my next family, but from day one with that new family, my name was mine and mine alone.”
“I know you may not be ready, but one day, I’d like to call you by your name,” he tells me. “I want to know you for you. Siren is just one portion of the woman you are, but I want to know the woman you are inside. I want to know the woman you’ve hidden away for all of these years.”
I swallow hard, resting my hand on his chest again as I nod. “I think I might be okay with that,” I tell him. “I don’t know how or when it happened, but I trust you. You’re not going to hurt me. I feel safe with you, and while I might need some time to be okay with hearing my name again, I can work on that for you.”
“Then I suppose I can do the same for you,” he says. “When the time comes, I’d like to reintroduce you to who I really am, not as Reaper or the ghost you feared at the start of these games, but as Nikolai Volkov.”
“I’d like that.”
He nods. “To be honest, I’m not even sure I fully understand who he really is, but if you’d like, we can work it out together.”
“Together?” I gasp, teasing him. “You’re not suggesting we work as a team, are you?”
Reaper groans and rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I tell him as my heart swells deep inside my chest. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I don’t think I have any fucking idea who Kienna James is either. Last time I talked to her, she was only six years old with more trauma than any kid should have to hold. I don’t know what kind of person we’re going to uncover.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re both trained in expecting the unexpected,” Reaper says. “Whatever you want to throw at me, baby, I can handle.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, adjusting myself on his lap and leaning in, my lips hovering over his. “Well, I’ve got something else a little unexpected, and I’m dying to see just how well you handle it.”
Then, without another word, I close the gap and drop my lips to his, and as if on cue, he picks me up off the couch and walks past the one-eyed dead head and straight to our bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.