Page 38 of Breaker

The way my body reacts makes me hate him as much as my body craves him.

A grating sound rumbles from his chest, sounding a lot like irritation. “I didn’t risk my life and that of my brother’s for a fuck toy.”

“Just a bonus,” I say, because I apparently have no control over myself when it comes to this man.

Reaper leans back some. The gunclinksagainst the metal, the sound making my heart flutter oddly. It would probably dome good to remember who he is. He’s warned me over and over he’s not a nice man.

But he’s nothing like Rune.

“Penny for your thoughts, my pretty Kitten.”

I blink, realizing I’ve just been staring down at his hand with the gun balanced on the railing. I look up at his masked face and irritation rolls through me. Not once in my life did I ever think I’d be able to identify a man by the feel of his dick, but not his face.

“Are you going to lose the mask?” I ask, voice brittle.

The mask doesn’t bother me so much, as does the reason behind it.

He doesn’t trust me.

Not like Striker and now Breaker.

And I need to remember not to place all my trust in him.

Reaper steps away, and it feels like I can breathe again. “Do guns scare you?”

Of course he’s going to ignore my question. That’s what he does.

I eye him, then point to the gun in his hand. “Should I be scared of that gun?”

“Are you scared of the man holding it?”

IknewI hurt him. The realization gives me a sick sort of gratification knowing that I’ve finally found a way to get under his skin. He’s been so cold, giving me just fragments of himself, and now I hold some power over him.

I’ve taken long enough to respond that he inhales, chest rising, and looks down at his hand briefly, then back up at me.

“Wary,” I say finally. “I’m not scared of you, but of what you’re capable of doing.”

His body grows tense, eyes flashing with something akin to disappointment. I’ve studied him enough that I can tell fromhis body language he doesn’t like that answer any more than if I told him I was terrified of him.

Reaper steps back and holds the weapon up. It looks like a standard gun you see in movies. All black metal, but it looks small in his hands. “Have you ever fired a gun?”

I shake my head slowly, my heart skipping at just the thought of holding a gun. “No.”

“Have you ever wanted to?”

I flash on the day they took us. When Clyde reached for his gun, and I debated grabbing it and shooting them. But I didn’t know how, and I remember the helpless fury that ate at my belly, knowing how defenseless I was.

“Yes,” I say, and I swear he smirks, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. He should. Reaper is, after all, the reason I was both helpless and scared.

“Good. Today you will learn.”

“Excuse me?”

Reaper turns and stalks to the door.

“What does that mean?” I ask, rushing after him.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” He doesn’t answer my string of questions as he continues to the door. Like, why do I need to learn to fire a gun? Who does he plan on having me shoot? He stops walking, turning to face me, and I nearly crash into him.

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