Page 32 of Reaper

As I tear down the road, the wind whipping against my skin, I can’t shake away the idea that Ace might be my son. If Lexi lied about something as important as that, what else could she be hiding? And what did she have to gain by keeping this from me?

My thoughts spiral, a whirlwind of anger, fear, and—if I’m honest with myself—a desperate longing for the truth. Aside from the club, I’ve never had a real family. The clubhas always been there for me, but the idea of a child, of someone who shares my blood … It’s intoxicating.

But it’s also dangerous.

“Lexi,” I growl, the name bitter on my tongue. “If you lied to me, if you hid my son from me, you’re going to regret it.”

I focus on the road ahead, letting the rage fuel me as I ride farther away from the brothers I’ve always trusted, until now. Eventually, I might find it to forgive them, but right now, I want to rip every one of their heads off. They should have checked with me before taking Ace’s DNA. They had no right to do that shit.

But underneath my fury, a vein of fear cuts through the walls around my heart. If I’m a father, then what? I can’t raise a kid. This is so fucked. How the fuck would I raise a kid? I don’t know the first thing about shit like that.

I throttle the engine, racing down the mountain road at a hundred miles an hour, daring death to take me because I can’t even begin to image the alternative. Fatherhood.

Chapter 13: Lexi

The rumble of a motorcycle’s engine cuts off abruptly outside. Tension knots in my gut because I can sense Reaper’s back from wherever he went. As I sit up in his bed, the sheets slip from my grasp. Cool air raises goosebumps on my skin. Reaper’s been gone for hours. Where the hell did he go?

The bedroom door slams open with such force that the walls seem to shudder. Reaper stands there, a towering silhouette against the dim hallway light. Shadows carve out his furious expression, his eyes two dark pits of rage. He doesn’t say a word, just strides toward the bed with the determined gait of a predator closing in.

Before I can even form a question, his hands are on me, rough and insistent. There’s no tenderness in his touch, only a raw, desperate need that overrides everything else.

He flips me onto my belly and shoves my face into the pillow. Gripping my hips, he slaps my ass hard right before he takes me with one,vicious thrust. It’s not like last night; there’s a darkness to his thrusts that frightens me, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting him like this. My body responds to his fervor, but my mind races, caught between arousal and fear.

“Reaper,” I gasp out, trying to grab onto anything that can anchor me to reality. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t slow down. Instead, his grip tightens, as if he’s trying to communicate through his actions alone. It’s hot—God, it’s so hot—but it’s also terrifying because this man, this enigma wrapped in leather and ink, is a tornado of anger, and it seems to be directed at me. I have no idea why, but I also don’t really care.

“Harder,” I plead between ragged breaths, glancing over my shoulder.

What I see sends a fresh wave of anxiety through me. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I see something flicker in his eyes—pain, betrayal, confusion? But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, buried under the relentless tide of his anger. He closes himself off to me. His features are a mask of fury. Usually, there’s at least a hint of playfulness in his expression, or a bit of the grudging affection which he tries so hard to conceal. None of that is there. I’m not even sure he’s really here with me or if he knows he’s fucking me like a beast.

“Please, Reaper.” My voice shakes. “Tell mewhat’s going on.”

“Later,” he growls, slapping his hand over my mouth to keep me from speaking.

I suck on his fingers, tasting him while trying not to drown in pleasure. My pussy aches from all the sex we had last night, but the way he’s pounding me into the bed is so primal that I surrender to it.

“You’re going to come for me, now!” He grabs my clit, pinching it lightly before scraping his fingers over it.

I shatter, pulsing around him just seconds before he unleashes his fury in hot spurts. He grunts out the last few thrusts before shoving off me and collapsing on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he doesn’t look at me. Not once.

What demon has chased him back to this room to seek solace in a display of ferocity that’s as much punishment as it is passion? I have no doubt something bad happened.

“Is Ace okay?” I ask softly.

“Fine.Yourson is with Nina.”

I don’t know why he put so much emphasis on Ace being mine. Does he know about Ace? Did he find out somehow?

The air is thick with tension. The aftermath of our raw encounter clings to my skin like the humidity of a brewing storm. Reaper sits up and moves to the edge of the bed, turning his back on me. His muscles are coiled in anger. His hands ball into fists, and even from here, I can see thewhite of his knuckles. The silence between us is a living thing, snarling and snapping, waiting for one of us to make a move.

“Lexi,” he growls without turning, “you’ve got one shot at telling me the truth, and you better do it now.”

My heart stutters, fear mingling with confusion. What truth does he want? My mind races. There’s no way he’s talking about Ace. I made sure I didn’t list a father on his birth certificate, so he can’t be talking about that.

“What truth?” My voice is tremulous and uncertain.

He spins around and skewers me with his dark eyes. The intensity within them pins me to the spot. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” There’s an accusation there, a certainty that I’m hiding something from him.

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