Page 99 of The Reaper

I glanced up at Fallon, whose big blue eyes were wide.

“Is this too much for you?”

She shook her head. “No.” Looking out the window, she said, “But it’s late. We should eat.”

Fuck, she was right. It was fully dark outside, and I had no idea where the time had gone. I followed her into the kitchen where she was getting out pots and pans. She filled up one pot and put it on the burner.

“Is pasta okay for you?” she asked.

“Fine.”

Jerking her chin in the direction of the counter, she said, “Sit down. Let me look after you for a while.”

Unable to come up with a reason why I shouldn’t, I sat, watching her move confidently through the kitchen. Now that the story had started, I found I wanted to continue it. I sensed that this break was less for me and more for her, and I couldn’t blame her. The shit I’d gone through was fucked up. Getting lost in the rhythm of Fallon, it wasn’t long before she placed a bowl of pasta in front of me with a chunky tomato sauce.

Wordlessly, she took her seat beside me, and we ate in silence. When I was done, she took my bowl and hers to the sink where she rinsed them and stacked them in the dishwasher. Afterward, she took my hand and led me down to the bedroom. She left me standing in the doorway while she threw back the quilt and slipped between the sheets.

“Come and lay with me?” she asked in a deceptively small voice.

I couldn’t deny her a damn thing, so I shut off the light and approached the bed. She sighed when I was settled beside her, then inched her way closer to my chest. She rested her cheek on my pec, her arm draped lightly over my stomach.

“Is this okay?” she asked. “I want to comfort you, but now I understand why you don’t like to be touched.”

“It’s fine,” I croaked, slamming down the emotion threatening to clog my throat. It was more than fucking fine. It was perfect. I curled my arm around her back, my hand resting on her hip.

“Why do you cut your victims’ tongues out?” she asked into the darkness.

Somehow, not being able to see her face made it easier to talk. “I can’t stand the screaming. Ava screamed a lot when I was torturing her. It triggers me now, I guess.”

“And your preferences for sex? Having submissive partners, having them restrained? All of that is tied toher?”

“Yes.” I rubbed my free hand over my face. “It’s fucked up, Filly, but it’s the only way I can fuck anyone now.”

“Hmmm,” she replied. “How did you come to join the clan?”

“Kellen, Finnan’s da, learned of my reputation as a freelancer. He offered me a permanent position in the clan as Reaper and promised that I wouldn’t have to share any of my secrets about my proclivities in the bedroom. There is nobody—not one person—who knows the full truth of what happened and why I am the way I am … except, now, for you. I want you to know so that you’ll be better able to understand me, and hopefully see why I overreact. I see in you something that I couldn’t protect in me …” I drifted off, running my hand along her hip. My cock began to stir, but I was sure Fallon was unaware of it.

“If you still need to tie me up when we fuck, I’ll understand.” The words she spoke were unexpected, but the meaning wasn’t lost on me.

“What?” I asked, needing to be sure.

“I love you, Orin. Every scar. Every dark thought that lurks through your mind. Every part that makes up you. I love you. If you can take me when I’ve been ruined by other men, then I can accept you when you’ve only tried to survive what life has thrown at you.”

I could barely breathe. “Does this mean that you forgive me?”

“Yes. I wanted the truth, and you gave it to me.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and pulled her in more tightly to my body. She ran her hands down my chest, tracing over the tattoo covering my sternum, then lower along my abdomen. My cock jerked at the contact.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Filly,” I told her, my dark tone no match for the moon outside.

“Maybe I want to play it with you.”

TWENTY-NINE

FALLON

The heat coming off Orin’s body made me hotter than I’d ever been, but I loved the feeling of him under my fingertips. I traced the ridges of his abs, knowing that if I brushed a little lower, I would feel another hardness straining to get out. Now that I knew his truth, I understood him better and hoped that he understood me too. We had both been taken advantage of, only he had had the guts to take his vengeance and thrive, whereas I had turned to substance abuse to recover from my ordeal.

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