Reaper

Sawyer stared at Charlie as her breathing became regular again, curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed. He sat on the edge of it, his hands folded in front of him, thinking.

He had gotten there in time. He had hoped nothing would happen before he got there, but he couldn’t have been sure. He had known the Alpha was around, and he had known – despite the fact that he denied it – that the Reaper belonged to Isis. The other man must have recognized him as part of Hunter’s pack and panicked. They weren’t known for their generous hospitality.

Sawyer had his suspicions about Charlie, but he kept them to himself. Something was vastly different about her. He had noticed it on the subway, and it had been supported by Saphira’s reaction to her. But his nagging thoughts were confirmed with what happened to the Alpha in the alley.

Charlie couldn’t be fed from.

He didn’t know why – she was hardly extraordinary. She was of average height and weight. He knew she was intelligent, but not nearly the level of prodigy that Simon showed. He thought furiously about how such a simple girl could undo the hundreds of years spent developing a feeding method.

Sawyer felt the guilt begin to trickle into the back of his mind. He had let Charlie walk right into the danger.

He had followed close behind her after she had gotten off of the subway, keeping tabs on her. Sawyer could sense the emotions boiling under her skin, the fear and loneliness calling out to him in a way that few had ever done in the past. The feel of it was intoxicating; it commanded every interaction with her. He didn’t know why Charlie’s emotions called to him so much more in particular, until he discovered the inability to feed from her. He had felt the spike in adrenaline. He had felt her sadness.

But it was the feeling of hope that alerted to the presence of the Alpha.

Alphas were notorious for tricking their victims. They have a much more difficult time feeding than Omegas do – it is much easier to make a stranger fear you when you are hunting than it is to make them like you. And since Alphas feed off of positive emotions, their victims have to be tricked and captured.

Sawyer wanted to rip the man’s throat from his body, but he settled for an uppercut.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself – or to anyone else for that matter – but he had been following Charlie for quite a while. She had only first been in contact with him a week ago, but he had followed her for the last month. He never intended any harm to her, but the feeling of her emotions building up within her was intoxicating to him. He could sense her from nearly half a mile away, and the feeling was impossible to ignore. Eventually, he began to trail behind her, make sure she was safe at night, walking home.

But then came the night of the subway attack.

He had felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. He had known about Hunter’s plan to attack the train before he had been to the bar. He also had known that Charlie took that train home from work. He couldn’t simply watch her be attacked like that – but, of course, that was before he knew why she was so special.

Sawyer was jolted out of his thoughts as she stirred on the bed. “Sawyer…” she whimpered, pulling herself tighter into a ball.

He felt warmth in his chest, and he knew that this meant she was afraid. He sensed the fear in her, delicious and tempting to a creature that hadn’t fed in a week. Not that it did him any good. But the fact that it was there set him on edge, like a recovering alcoholic faced with a glass of wine.

He was tempted to wake her, but he took a moment to take in her appearance. Her fiery hair was drenched in water, dirty from the alley but wet from the rain that had begun to fall as he carried her home. He noticed the way her lips curved, still pink from the cold. He took in the freckles splashed across her nose.

A clap of thunder roared overhead, shattering the peaceful silence that Sawyer had begun to enjoy.

Charlie stirred from her sleep, sitting bolt upright in fear. Sawyer’s chest warmed uncomfortably as she looked around, wild-eyed. He knew she was afraid, very afraid. And it wasn’t just because of the thunder.



I blinked at the figure in front of me, my heart pounding in my ears. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, I recognized Sawyer sitting on the edge of my bed, his hands folded in front of him, looking at me. His clothes were wet and dirty, but he still looked as though he could be photographed at any time for a magazine.

“Sawyer, what…?” I breathed, confused.

Then the events from earlier that night flooded back into my mind. The touch of those men’s hands, the stench of the alley, the glowing eyes, the searing pain in my chest… It all came back with a vengeance, making my heart speed up to a pace I had never experienced. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and my breathing became fast, shallow – I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. I balled my fists in the blankets of my bed.

Sawyer saw this reaction and turned to me. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he looked me straight in the eyes. “Charlotte, you are fine.” His tone wasn’t angry. It was matter-of-fact, and reassuring.

I looked around, flustered at his contact with me. “O-Oh.”

Pulling the blankets from around me, I wrapped myself tighter in them, trying to ward off the chill that began to creep up my spine. I knew the chill wasn’t from the physical cold, but it was the only thing I could do to combat it. Sawyer released my shoulders, folding his hands back together but not breaking eye contact with me. He was searching my face for something, but I didn’t know what.

Finally, he sighed, running his hand through his hair. I bit my lip, thinking.

“Listen, what happened tonight-“

“I know what you are-“

We both looked at each other, having spoken at the same time. I smiled as I remembered doing the same thing when we first met, what seemed like an eternity ago. The corner of his mouth curved up into a smirk – apparently, so did he.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”

I swallowed hard. Our eyes locked, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. His eyes bored into me, questioning me. “A… A Reaper.”

He was frozen for only a moment. The small smirk on his face had faded, replaced with an emotion I didn’t recognize. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands, as if he were suddenly very tired. “I suppose,” he lifted his head up from his hands, “that’s one way to put it.” He looked back at me. “Where did you learn this?”

I picked at a loose string on my blanket. “The, uh, internet.”

“Of course,” he scoffed, shaking his head. I smiled a small smile, realizing how childish I sounded. I felt the blush creep back onto my cheeks. “I should have known you would be curious.”

I was silent for a moment. As much as I should be, I couldn’t seem to make myself be afraid of Sawyer. He wasn’t human, and yet there were so many things that made him human that my brain hadn’t registered this fact yet. I felt this strange connection to him, this sense of security whenever he was around that I couldn’t ignore. It sat heavy in my chest. Suddenly a little braver, I crawled over to where he sat on the edge of the bed, sitting next to him and dangling my feet over the edge.

“Sorry,” I muttered, biting my lip. “I just… after last week… and then talking to you, I couldn’t help it.” I took a piece of my disgusting hair, twirling it around my finger nervously. “I don’t understand these things. I don’t understand why all of the sudden I’m not safe anywhere. I don’t understand-“ I broke off, suddenly feeling my throat choked up. I stared at him and he seemed to understand what I meant. I don’t understand you.

He continued to look into my eyes, lips parted ever so slightly. I shifted uncomfortably.

“Charlotte,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “There are two things you must understand.” He looked down at his lap. “The first is that come from a very, very dark place in this world. It is not something that I wish upon even my worst enemies. Normally I don’t mind it, but I find myself suddenly completely aware of it whenever you’re around.” I might have been imagining it, but I thought I saw a ghost of a blush on his cheeks. “The second is that… you are very, very unique.”

I raised my eyebrows, a little flustered. “What do you mean by that?”

He looked down at his hands. “Well… You…” Sawyer, who had always seemed to know what to say, was at a loss for words. He sighed. “I will explain some other time. But it is important you know this, because, in my world, it puts you in danger, very much so.”

“But why?” I asked quietly, squeezing my hands together. “Why does it matter?”

He thought for a moment. “Because, Charlotte, Reapers can’t feed off of you. You are in danger because no one has ever encountered someone like you – and they want to know what is so extraordinary about you.” He was blunt, obviously tired of beating around the bush. I could tell it was something that had been on his mind – quite a bit, too. It was almost like the words had fallen out of his mouth before he thought them through.

I pulled my knees up to my chest. “Oh.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, unwilling to break it except for the sound of the rain outside. I played with my fingers, replaying the events of this evening and the sound of Sawyer’s voice, sill not quite believing he was there. I looked back up at him again, only to find that he had been looking at me anyway.

His eyes flickered from my eyes, to my lips, and back again. My breath caught. I felt my own gaze travel to his lips – they looked so warm, so inviting. Before I really understood what was happening, Sawyer’s hand reached up to tuck one of my curls – the one I had been playing with – behind my ear. It was the only intimate thing I had seen him do. I shivered at his touch, electricity flowing through my veins. I could feel his breath on my face as he leaned in, closer, closer…

A clap of thunder roared.

Sawyer and I jumped apart, the spell broken.

I wrapped the blanket tighter around my body. I wasn’t sure why, but the chill had crept back into me, filling the space from which the heat of Sawyer’s touch had fled. I told myself to get a grip.

After a moment, I spoke. “Sawyer?”

“Mmm?” was his response.

I bit my lip, still debating on whether or not I should say what was on my mind. What the hell? “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He looked over at me, his eyebrows raised slightly. It seemed foreign to him, the idea. Bewildered, he ran a hand through his hair and inhaled deeply.

“I will stay until you fall asleep,” he assured me quietly, suddenly drawn into himself.

I quickly changed into clean clothes and dove under my blankets, still unable to rid myself of the cold. Sawyer remained at the edge of the bed, still looking rather uncomfortable but easing up slightly. We began to talk, about me mostly – he was very reserved about his life that I wanted to know so much about. I told him about Mandi and Fitch, and about my life in California, and how all I had wanted here was to go about unnoticed.

After what seemed like hours, I drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice.