Reaper

“Charlotte…”

No one has called me that in weeks.

I felt my eyes slowly blink open, straining to see in the dim light. I was disoriented, dizzy, and not completely sure where I was or how long I’d been asleep. I tried to move, only to realize that my arms were pulled together over my head, and I was lying on a lavish satin-covered bed.

Suddenly I was much more alert.

I wildly looked around the room, taking in every detail I could. The bed was round – odd – and covered in red satin sheets. I could feel my wrists bound together by something biting and plastic, and I realized upon further inspection that it was a zip-tie. It fastened my hands together around a spike at the top of the headboard, and I had pillows propped under me so that the position wasn’t quite so uncomfortable, I guessed. The entire room was covered in dark red and black, sleek-looking decorations, and suddenly I felt sick to my stomach.

But upon realizing I wasn’t alone, my stomach dropped and the feeling evaporated.

“S-Sawyer?” I croaked, suddenly feeling the scratchiness in my throat. I was overcome with thirst, realizing that my mouth was dry and that I needed water.

He gazed at me, impassive.

My eyes widened as I struggled against the restraints on my wrists. “Sawyer! You’re – how – you’re here – help!” It was a mixture of incredulous stuttering and desperate wailing, and it sounded pathetic to my own ears. I winced – the zip tie hurt.

He didn’t move.

By now I was panting, the struggle against the restraints beginning to tire me out. “Sawyer, please,” I begged.

He looked very, very different. I could see that he had lost weight, though I’m not sure how, being a Reaper. His face looked years older, weary, and his muscles looked smaller and unused. His gaunt face stared back at me, his square jaw covered in black stubble. His hair was dirty and unruly, and one stray curl hung on his forehead limply. His once bright green eyes were dull, lifeless, and sunken so that he looked like he hadn’t slept in ages.

I vaguely wondered if I was dreaming, but at this point nothing surprised me anymore. Not even a weary-looking Sawyer at the foot of the bed.

In a flash, something inside Sawyer snapped. He had previously been in a trance, but now he was staring at me, wonder written on his face.

“Charlie,” he breathed, rushing over to me. He practically pounced on me, wrapping his arms around my torso as carefully as he could and burying his head in the tiny space between my neck and my arm. I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

I felt the tears come before I could stop them. They streamed down my face, hot and stinging, and I choked back a sob. I finally let go, releasing all the fear, all the hurt, all the anxiety that I had suffered, flowing down my face and into Sawyer’s hair.

He quickly kissed me, gentle but demanding. He kissed like a man starved, and like I was his chocolate sundae. I felt my chest grow warm, spreading through my veins, but this wasn’t the same lustful glow that I was used to feeling around him. I could feel tears on his cheeks, too, though his were silent and much more unexpected. He pulled away and I was disappointed, only until he started kissing me lightly on my nose, my forehead… everywhere.

“Sawyer, what’s going on?” I finally managed to ask, my voice quiet.

He stilled his progress, his mouth poised at the base of my throat. “Isis. She captured me, the night that I…” He trailed off, refusing to look me in the eye.

I swallowed hard. “The night you left,” I finished, sadly.

He nodded. “She kept me locked up for god knows how long, and then one day, she came in to talk to me and –“ He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “She showed me the video, of the newscaster confirming that you… that you and Jesse had… “ He sighed heavily. “But you’re here. You were in the mall. How…?” He gazed at me, shocked and in awe.

“Why were you in the mall?” I countered, straining against the restraints on my wrists, and, upon realizing that this was hurting more than it was doing any good, relaxed my arms. “Why haven’t you let me out of these things? Why did you let her capture us?”

I could only assume the worst as Sawyer stood up, his face clearly revealing his anxiety. Holy hell, it was strange to see him so… open. His emotions were written all over his face, he was an open book. That was so unlike Sawyer. He always gave nothing away.

“Isis told me that if I sought out Hunter, she would set me free, since she… she assumed you would no longer be of use,” he said quietly, staring down at his hands. “I tracked Hunter down to the mall you were in, and I was looking for him, but then I saw you, with him, and I-I…” He ran his hand nervously through his hair.

I couldn’t believe him. I gaped at him for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts into coherent sentences, but I was finding it difficult. I think I had been drugged when they captured me, and I could still feel the effects of it wearing off. “Why on Earth would you go after Hunter? He’s been looking for you for weeks!”

Sawyer seemed hopelessly confused, furrowing his brow. “What? Last I saw him, he attacked me because of how I feel about you, Charlotte.”

I tried to sit up. Ow. No, better not do that again. But I could feel the fury running through my veins. “How dare you!”

I’m not sure why I was so angry – probably because I had been captured and the rest of the Reapers were nowhere to be found, not to mention being zip-tied to a post – but even though I wasn’t exactly Hunter’s biggest fan, he didn’t deserve to have Isis unleashed on him, especially by a member of his own pack. I had seen the loyalty that Sawyer’s pack held for him over the last few weeks, all they had sacrificed to bring him back safely, but this looked like a betrayal to me. This wasn’t the Sawyer I knew. The Sawyer I knew would never place his own safety before his pack’s – his loyalty was blind, selfless, in the name of protection. Who was he?

“Do you know what we’ve been through? What I’ve been through to get you back?” I demanded, feeling my face pull into a snarl. “Hunter is here because he was worried sick about you! We all were! I haven’t slept without getting nightmares since you left.” My voice broke on the last few words, and suddenly the enormity of the situation hit me full force.

Sawyer’s really alive.

I bit my lip, hard, trying to keep from crying again. This was not what I envisioned when I thought about seeing Sawyer again, not in the slightest. I imagined hugs and tears and kisses and granted I had all of those things…

I just didn’t picture the zip-ties that he still hadn’t let me out of.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sawyer’s face hardened. “I’m here to take you to Isis,” he murmured quietly, pulling my hands up and over the pole above me so that they were in front of me. I yelped at the shooting pain in my arms – who knows how long they had been like that – and I let him pull me upwards, a sinking feeling in my chest.

He pulled me up to a standing position, and I wobbled to my feet. I’m not sure how long I was out, but I definitely felt strange standing on my own, especially with my wrists bound together in front of me. He suddenly grabbed me and hugged me to his chest, hard, breathing in the scent of my hair.

“I missed you, Charlotte,” he breathed, and my heart melted just a little.

It was only for a second. “Just take me to her,” I mumbled.

He gave me a stony look as he pulled away from me. He blinked, surprised, before he finally set his face and grabbed my arm. He pulled me out of the room, and we began a trek down a long hallway.
I took in my surroundings as we walked. There were no windows, and the hallway was lit dimly by some wall lamps, a dark red glow. It was decorated much like the room I had woken up in, with dark red walls and black iron work everywhere. I could hear a few other people talking, but they were muffled voices that I couldn’t pick out. Sawyer eased me forward ahead of him.

I didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, I was so relieved to see that he was alive. I had thought… well, I had feared I would never see him again. I missed him, without him I felt like a part of me was missing. Like I wasn’t whole. I felt broken and incomplete.

But, on the other hand, the Sawyer I found wasn’t exactly the Sawyer I had lost. This Sawyer wasn’t loyal, or stoic, or fiercely protective, he was looking out for himself and his own safety at the expense of his pack. That wasn’t him. I wondered what he had been through.

As we walked, Sawyer’s hand tightened on my arm to get my attention. “I just want you to know,” he said softly, his face still emotionless. “That I was in agony when I thought you were dead. I had thought about you every moment I was gone. I wanted to head back just before they attacked me, but… “ He shook his head, warding off the memory. “When Isis showed me the news, I felt like I didn’t want to live anymore. I had lost my reason to.” He glanced at me sideways, just for a fleeting moment, and I saw the truth in those emerald eyes.

Oh, Sawyer. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, biting my lip to keep from crying again.

“I’m sorry, too.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here, I promise, but right now it’s just too risky. But I will get you to safety.”

“And you to safety,” I added.

He looked at me sadly. “Hopefully.” And suddenly he stopped me as I was walking. I fell over a bit before he caught me with his other hand, and gracefully brought me into him so that he could kiss my forehead.

We entered a large ballroom, Sawyer carefully leading me. The ceiling was at least two stories up, and the top story was lined with giant windows. I guessed by what I saw out of them that they were at the ground level, and the rest of the room was underground. I also realized, with some irony, that it was about sunset. It was decorated much like the rest of the building I had seen – dark red walls, white ceiling, and black iron work everywhere. The furniture was sleek, black, and modern, and it looked like it had cost a fortune to put this together. I wondered idly if they had hired an interior decorator.

Jesse was in the room already with another guard. I felt a chill run up my spine as I realized that this was another Reaper, one that I vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. It took a few moments for me to realize that it was the man from the alley that had attacked me in New York, the time that Sawyer had first spent the night. He gave me a wolfish grin – no pun intended – as he Sensed my pang of fear upon his recognition. Sawyer squeezed my arm in support, because he felt it, too.

There were werewolves, too. They stood guard on the edges of the massive room, eyeing me suspiciously and hungrily, but they kept their posts. Their furry muzzles made me extremely uncomfortable as they leered at me, and I was suddenly reminded of when I was paraded in front of the vampires. I felt very much like they had come to an all-you-can-eat buffet, and I was the main course.

But even they weren’t my main concern.

As I stepped into the center of the room, next to Jesse, I recognized a tall, pale woman sitting in a large armchair in front of us, much like it was a throne. She was, like the other Reapers, inhumanly beautiful, dressed in a white gown that made her look almost angelic. Her platinum hair hung down the back of her head in a cascade, fanning out over the chair and over her chest like a silk waterfall. Her features were pale and sharp, but they were also small and delicate-looking. She had massive blue eyes that stared at me with a cool interest, eying me suspiciously.

I had never seen her before, but I knew exactly who she was.

She rose gracefully, her white hair falling behind her and her white dress followed. She held out a slender hand to me, and smiled a mega-watt smile.

“Charlotte,” Isis purred, “Glad you could make it. I’ve heard so much about you.”