Reaper

There was nothing I could do that night to calm the storm that was raging in my head. I tossed and turned helplessly in the bed, listening to the shower running in the bathroom as Sawyer, for once, let me out of his sight long enough to do so. I pulled the sheets anxiously up to my chin, shivering as the storm outside echoed the one in my brain.

Why hadn’t Sawyer told me about his relationship with Saphira before? I mean, if he was serious about attempting this whole relationship thing, surely that’s a prerequisite? I don’t know if I can look at her the same way again, knowing what they had done. And of course, she was already that much prettier than I was. But despite her beauty and her strength and her charm – she wasn’t his mate.
And that must have killed her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my hair fanned out on the pillow. I was surprised to see the dark brown curls instead of red – though they didn’t look bad, necessarily, they weren’t natural. It was strange, getting used to seeing a different color. I played with a strand lightly.

And why hadn’t Sawyer ever mentioned him possibly having a mate? He was the one who had insisted that he couldn’t have a relationship, when in reality he was designed to have one. Although, thinking back, it would be difficult to carry on with someone if you knew they weren’t your soul mate.

I supposed I kind of understood why he was so reserved.

I sighed, sprawling out on the bed. I guess sleeping was off the table for tonight.

Suddenly, I heard the shower shut off.

I don’t know what overcame me, but I suddenly curled up and pretended to be asleep, turning over on my side with my face toward the bathroom door. After a few minutes of lying there, Sawyer carefully opened the door, letting the light pour in from the tiny room. He stood there in the light, a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water running from his inky black hair down his back. He went over to the backpack that he had had in the car, pulling out a pair of shorts.

I felt my face flush as I watched him. Suddenly the towel was dropped, and as much as I wanted to look, I quickly shut my eyes. It felt too inappropriate to see him naked like that, especially since he made no indication that he knew I was watching.

“I know you’re awake, Charlie,” he muttered.

Oh. Well, there’s that.

“No I’m not,” I protested childishly.

He chuckled. I felt the bed lurch to the side as he sat down on it, creaking slightly under his weight. The next thing I knew, he was laying down behind me, snaking his arms around my waist, and pulling me in close to him.

“Just, for the record,” he murmured, “The new hair looks lovely.”
I felt my face heat up. “I liked my old hair.”

“That was lovely, as well,” he mused.

I was thankful he couldn’t see me grinning like an idiot.

I felt his heart beating softly in his chest, thrumming calmly behind my back, in time with my own. It was comforting to feel him here, encompassing me in safety that was so completely rare nowadays.

I’m not sure why it occurred to me then that I felt like I didn’t know Sawyer. I suppose it was because I realized that he must feel the same way about me – alive and safe in his arms. But then, he always knew how I felt. I had no idea how to read him, except for the few skills I’d gained for the last few weeks of getting to know him. Like how his mouth pressed into a hard line when he was upset or warring with himself, or how he had faint dimples in his cheeks on the rare occasion that he actually smiled. But, ultimately, I knew nothing about Sawyer. And it occurred to me that if – and I say if very loosely – he had a mate, like he mentioned earlier, surely there are things she should know. Right?
Not that I thought it was me, or anything.

“Sawyer?” I asked quietly, biting my lip.

“Mmm.”

“Where are you from?”

I felt my heart sink when his grip on me loosened, and he lifted his chin from where it rested on my shoulder. He carefully turned me over so that I was laying on my back, facing up at him. He propped himself on his elbow, staring down at me in what looked something like confusion. “What? Why do you want to know that?” He was serious, but I could tell he wasn’t mad from his tone and by the way his mouth curled up slightly at the end.

I shrugged, breaking eye contact. I could feel my face heating up. “I just… I barely know you.” I bit my lip again. “I want to know you,” I said bluntly.

He let out a small laugh. “Alright. You have a point.” He stared absently at the headboard, thinking. “I grew up in a town just outside London. Small, only a few thousand people,” he recalled slowly, “My mother abandoned my father and I when I was too small to remember. He moved us here when I was around twelve. I remembered hating everything about it here – I missed my old life. I refused to engage with anyone from the States. I was alone.”

He paused for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about, I could tell. “I met Hunter when I was fifteen. I had run away from home, from school, from everything my life had become. I felt so strongly that I didn’t belong there. He took me in, showed me the life I had been missing all along – and that’s when I knew.”

I stared at him for a moment, lost in his vacant expression. “Knew?”

His face turned to stone. “That I wasn’t meant for that life,” he said quietly, so softly I almost wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. “To be human was not my intended destiny.”

I gaped at him. “But if you were a Reaper the whole time… how did you not know?”

He ran a hand through his thick hair, sighing. “It’s not exactly the first conclusion you jump to, Charlotte.”

I blushed a little. Of course it wasn’t. I guess it bothered me that there had been a time in his life where Sawyer had been normal. And it got to me. I let my mind wander as Sawyer’s eyes slid shut next to me, humming peacefully under his breath. What would have happened to him if he had never realized he was a Reaper? Would he have gone to school, met another girl, gotten married? Would he have just carried on like anyone else, wondering what was wrong with him?

I felt a pang in my chest. The thought made me sad. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder – would he have ever met me?

Sawyer sucked in a breath and looked at me again. “Stop that,” he said sternly, narrowing his eyes.

I blinked at him. “Stop what?”

He bared his teeth. “That. You’re feeling sorry for me. Stop.” He sat up straight, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t need your pity.”

Flustered, I sat up, facing him as he began to pace. He was obviously irritated – I could tell by the way his shoulders tensed with every step he took. I had forgotten that I had no private thoughts around him – he Sensed what I was thinking, especially when he was beginning to get… hungry. The thought sat like a weight in my stomach.

“Sawyer,” I reached out to grab him, to stop him, “That’s not what I-“

“Don’t touch me,” he roared, whirling on me. His eyes were ablaze, splitting the darkness.

I felt my heart in my throat, but I didn’t shrink back. I choked back the urge to run far, far away from him. Every bone in my body told me to, but I knew that if I wanted any kind of relationship with Sawyer, I had to learn to face him this way. I had to learn to not be afraid. He couldn’t Feed from me when he was in this state, nor could he hurt me physically. I knew he wouldn’t let himself do that, not after the way he’s acted when other people have done it.

I could feel my lower lip trembling as I sat up on my knees on the end of the bed, chest-to-chest with an incredibly angry Sawyer. His sternum rose and fell with quick inhales and exhales, and his nose flared outward ever so slightly. This close to him, I could feel the tension in his coiled muscles rolling off of him in waves.

I stared into his eyes, practically blinded by the light that was being emitted. There was a question in his face, in my own, that neither of us was sure was ready to be asked. My hand shook as I lifted it up to his chest, placing it lightly over his heart, rising and falling rapidly under my palm. He inhaled sharply. I suddenly felt like I was trying to touch a wild animal, a tiger that could rip my head off with a single motion. I felt the warmth of his skin seep into my fingers, which were deathly cold in comparison.

I could feel his angry breaths hitting my face, but he allowed me to touch him. Suddenly feeling a surge of bravery wash through me, I leaned forward, slightly, watching his expression as I did so. It was unchanged, unmoving. Slowly, I placed my lips on his.

Something in him snapped. He let out a low growl from the back of his throat and seized the sides of my head, threading his hands into my hair that was still damp from coloring it. He kissed me with more fervor than ever before, desperate, longing, and sloppy. It was as though all of his instincts that had been suppressed were now released, and he refused to let back any longer. Our bodies meshed with the contact – it was impossible to tell where my body ended and where his began.

Before I knew what was happening, Sawyer pulled away from me again. His eyes were still glowing, but flickering eerily. “Charlie, I can’t – I don’t – I don’t know what’s happening –“

I sat back on my heels, trying to catch my breath, but I was finding it hard to do so with my heart in my throat. “W-What?”

He ran his hands through his hair desperately. “I – I can’t – with you – I have to go,” he blurted, suddenly grabbing a shirt off the floor and wrenching it over his head.

I got up and grabbed his arm. “Sawyer, wait-“

He turned to look at me, and I saw something that I hadn’t seen before: fear. Not anger, like I expected, but fear. Sawyer was afraid of something I had done or caused. I was confused, hurt, and suddenly cold – but I knew he was even more so than me.

He turned away, eyes completely dimmed, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.