Page 102 of Ruthless Creatures
They call him Reaper because of all the terrible things he’s done, but he’s still a man just like any other.
He grieves. He bleeds. He’s made of flesh and bone.
And he’s been alone since he was a boy, with nothing to sustain him but terrible memories. Memories that turned him from a boy to a myth as he rose in the ranks of an organization renowned for its ruthlessness, until he was at the very top.
All his success was driven by what happened to his family.
Violence is his calling card, bloodshed his stock-in-trade, but the real beating heart of this man is revenge.
He told me he was a debt collector, but it isn’t until now that I understand what he meant.
The debts he collects are paid in blood.
When I shiver, he pulls away and looks at me—reallylooksat me, deep into my eyes. There’s something raw in his look. Something desperate.
As if he’s waiting for me to say goodbye.
But I’ve already tumbled too far down the rabbit’s hole to go back to my old life now. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.
Which I don’t.
I have no idea where this dark part of me has been sleeping, how it’s lain dormant in my heart for so long, but Kage’s story has awoken something hard and flinty in my bones. A creature that believes the ends justify the means, no matter how bloody.
A fire-breathing dragon has roused inside me, snapping open slitted eyes.
The dragon says, “I don’t care about your past. What you’ve done. How you got here. Maybe I should, but I don’t. I care about you, and the way I feel when I’m with you, and how you’ve brought me back to life. You don’t ever have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I won’t pressure you. But if you do want to talk, I’ll listen without judgment. No matter what you have to say. No matter how awful you think it is, I’ll be here for you.
“Because although you told me you’re not a good man, I don’t believe that’s true. But even if it is, even if youarea bad man, then you’re the best bad man I’ve ever known.”
Frozen, he stares at me. His lips part. He exhales a small, shallow breath.
Then he kisses me as if his very life depends on it. As if his soul is on the line.
And if I sense the smallest hint of anguish in his kiss, the faintest shade of misery and regret, I know it must be my imagination.
TWENTY-FOUR
KAGE
I have to tell her.
Tell her and let her hate me for a while, until I can make her understand. Until I find the right words to explain how not telling her up to now hasn’t been lying, but one of those secrets I said I had to keep to keep her safe.
Except she’d know that’s bullshit. She’s too smart for that.
She can already read me too well.
This secret I keep not for her safety, but for selfish reasons.
Because I know if I told her I’ve known all along that her missing fiancé didn’t take a tumble down a mountain like she thinks he did, she’d hate me.
If I told her why I really came to town last September, she’d never forgive me.
And if I told her what the consequences would be for her if Max ever discovers I lied to him, she’d wish I were dead.
I should go before it comes to that.
I should leave and never visit this place again.
