Page 77 of Fallen Omega

And he’s there again. He stops.

This time, his mouth ticks up in a smile, and my knees turn liquid. I could fall.

The smile isn’t romantic, or even nice. It’s not friendly.

It’s harsh, deadly.

The smile of the predator who’s got his prey and is playing with it.

My pussy throbs so hard, pleasure surges.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

So unbelievably handsome. The fact I don’t think he gives a damn about how he might look, how people see him, heightens his appeal.

And yet…

I don’t want others to notice. I’m greedy. He’s mine already.

Reaper starts towards me, small steps, and I shriek to the heavens again and tear off, up a side street.

He’s deadly. Emotionless. On the outside. I want to shatter that. I want…I want to matter. To him.

It makes no sense, and I don’t care.

In this very moment, I want to matter.

He breaks my heart.

Not because of the scars on that face that could grace a magazine. No, they add to his beauty.

But he breaks my heart because he’s both a monster and an angel fallen low.

Someone hurt him. I’m betting when he was young because it feels like a black and white thing, lacking shades of gray. For him. And that’s young.

Love or hate.

Worlds crash. Suns soar.

There’s nothing in between.

And it’s that kind of pain that shapes a monster over the small child in him, the vulnerable part, to protect.

He’s smart. No one could hunt like this and not be. And the intelligence is in his eyes…

I turn again, down another street, not daring to look behind me. I lose precious seconds when I turn, so I just run and weave and duck and hide.

My side starts to hurt with a stitch and my lungs burn. To distract myself, I go back to the puzzle of Reaper.

By child, I don’t think he’s stunted, more that the concept of child represents an innocence which someone tried to crush out of him, to cut out of him.

I dart behind a fence. My legs are a thousand pounds of weight, and I collapse, looking around.

There’s a tiny house wedged in between two grim and dark apartment buildings. It doesn’t belong, this weird little house, one that’s falling apart but seemingly holding on by sheer strength of defiance. It’s clearly abandoned.

To me, it’s another lost soul in this city.

A twig snaps. It’s his only mistake. Or did he mean to alert me?

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