Page 11 of Romancing the Reaper

I never pictured myself with a super model. There’s a degree of glitz and glam that comes with it, I guess. Though, in truth, before my supposed engagement to Maeve, which was arranged by my father before he died, I hadn’t given much thought to any sort of long-term relationship.

My hands are normally used for more nefarious purposes. I never had much cause in my life to be soft, or gentle. I didn’t even know that I was capable of such a thing, and the motions feel stressful as a result.

I work in silence, the silky tresses making waves over her back and shoulders, the water the only sound breaking the stillness.

Suddenly, Ada reaches forward to grab the bottle of cheap shampoo that I had grabbed from the closest convenience store.

“All in one?” She scoffs, turning the green bottle over in her hand before popping open the top to sniff the pine scent. “Really? How manly.”

Then she laughs. A bright, crisp and genuine sound that gets under my skin and gives me a strange feeling.

“I don’t know, I should have guessed, I suppose.” Ada teases, glancing back at me once more. “It’s not very… mysterious kidnapper to use bargain shampoo. And Irish? Are you kidding me?”

I drop my hands away from her hair. Nobody teases me. Nobody. Usually my stern expression and general ‘fuck off’ attitude keeps people from talking to me at all.

“Well, if you would rather do it yourself,” I sigh and start to move away from her and she reaches back and grabs my arm by the wrist.

“No, wait. I’m sorry.” Ada says with a soft forced smile, pressing the bottle of shampoo into my hand. “Please, help me. I want to smell like Irish pine trees.”

The notion is so insane, I just can’t help but laugh.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ada

Ididn’t think that somebody like Kieran was able to laugh. Which, of course, seems rather insane because all humans are capable of laughter. Yet, hearing Kieran’s low chuckle shudders through me like the rumble just before lightning.

I didn’t think that he would respond to my teasing very well. I thought it might irritate him or, well… I don’t know what I thought. I probably shouldn’t have done it. But, now that I have, I’m glad I did. Hearing Kieran laugh softens him somehow. It’s almost endearing, a brief moment of lightness in this otherwise oppressive situation.

That, and his fingers in my hair feel fuckingdivine.

It doesn’t remove the shame of what had happened earlier, nor the indignancy of the whole thing.

I lost control.

I’ve been very strictly controlling my disorder for years now. At least, as much as I can be. Vomiting is the hardest thing to break because my body views the reaction as normal. It does it almost on a scheduled basis. But, a few bites of takeout shouldn’t have been enough to trigger me.

I should have never taken those bites. I know better than to eat while I’m stressed. It’s a trigger for my gag reflex. Three years of a losing battle against my body. I try to power through the anorexia and the resulting bulimia the best that I can. I did the therapy. I did the in-patient and everything. Every single time that I regress, it just causes all of that rage and all of that internalized self-loathing to come bubbling up to the surface.

But the fact that it came up in front of not only a stranger, but an enemy to my family?

I will do anything to pretend that it didn’t happen. I know he’s not going to forget what happened, but I have to try. I can’t afford to have him asking me extensive questions. I have to hope that he choked it up to nothing more than stress.

Yet, despite everything, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s distracting me from the pleasure in my scalp.

“I’m sorry, about… that you had to see that.” I say abruptly, and instantly regret it. I wish I could take it back.

I glance over my shoulder when he doesn’t say anything, his fingers slipping out of my hair for a moment. It feels like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know where to begin. I can see his brow furrow, and then think better of it.

Shame bubbles up in my throat again, ready to spill forward but instead, it comes up as words that I don’t really want to be saying in the first place.

“Anyway, it won’t happen again.” I lie. I know that it’s going to happen again. I just have to hope that I’m going to be able to hide it from him better. I certainly have plenty of experience in hiding things, most of all this.

“If you have any food allergies that you need to make me aware of, I will be sure to keep them in mind.” Kieran says with something bordering on kindness.

I could let him believe that it was a food allergy. I could lie and say that it was just a one-time issue or that I can’t eat takeout or that his face had disgusted me.

Kieran is giving me the chance to lie, I can tell. I can see that if I tell him it’s nothing right here and now, he will let it go. It’s not like he can force me to tell him something that I don’t want to.

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