Queen of The Reapers by Jessa Halliwell
Seventeen
Goosebumps formacross my skin as the shower kicks on and hot steam fills the air. I close my eyes and dip my head under the stream, letting the heavy droplets crash against me. It’s almost cathartic. The way the water seems to wash everything away. All of my sins. All of my mistakes. Everything.
Alex is dead. That thought alone used to send me spiraling, but with each passing day, it's getting easier and easier to stomach the notion. I don’t know for sure. No one does. But if I let myself believe it, maybe it’ll be easier to accept when I finally get the news.
Telling myself she’s dead is a powerful tool. It makes me colder. More numb. Someone who has nothing to lose. It makes me stronger. More ruthless. Scarier than I ever thought I’d be. It offers me the finality I need. The kind that changes people and turns them into monsters.
It's been two weeks since Alex’s kidnapping. Two weeks of radio silence from the people that took her, and two weeks of feeling myself slowly descend into madness. Nothing has changed. Even Creed’s Mercenaries are quiet now. They stopped checking in a week ago after they realized every call was only setting us up for disappointment.
It's like she's vanished. Up and left, leaving no trace of her behind. Though they’ll never outright say it, everyone else in this house has long given up on the idea of finding her alive. They’ve accepted her fate and have been able to move on with their lives. In some ways, I envy them for it. No matter how much I try to convince myself she’s gone, I’ll never be able to move on or accept it. Not until I know for sure.
The first night of staking out Hell's Tavern ended up being a bust. Aside from ruffling a few feathers, we didn’t find anything substantial to help us find her.
Since then, I've been visiting the club almost every night. Sometimes with Atlas, sometimes with one of the twins, and sometimes alone. Ezra vanished too. He still lives here. I see evidence of his presence from time to time, but as far as he and I are concerned, he may as well be missing, too. The pain of losing him would probably hurt a lot worse if the cut from Alex’s kidnapping weren’t so deep.
I shut off the nozzle, step out of the shower, and wrap myself up in a soft white towel. Bracing myself against the black granite countertop, I mentally prepare myself to look up. I haven't been able to look at myself in days, partially because I don’t care what I look like anymore, and partially because I fear who I’ll see staring back at me. But enough is enough, and it’s time for me to stop being a coward.
I slowly raise my gaze, lingering on the sleek metal faucet before traveling up to the illuminated edge of the mirror. You can do this. I visibly swallow and shake my head before releasing a sigh. Quick and easy, Stevie. I flick my eyes up and let out an audible gasp at the sight in front of me.
I’m there, looking just as haggard as I expected, but just beyond me, there’s a large figure shrouded in darkness, staring back at me. The hood he’s wearing obscures most of his features, but as he slowly tilts his chin up, recognition clicks.
“Jesus Ezra,” I snap, flipping my body around to face him, “you scared the shit out of me.”
“Yeah.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “I tend to do that.”
“Why are you in here?”
His eyes flash to the vanity before settling back on me. “I need some supplies and got tired of waiting.”
I awkwardly shuffle to the side and study him as he shakes off his hood and steps up to the vanity I was just blocking. Without the shield of his hood, I see that he’s hurt. If the deep cut over his right brow doesn’t give it away, the slight limp in his walk does.
“What happened to you?” I ask as he raids through the first-aid drawers.
Ezra doesn’t bat an eye at my question.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” He says, reaching for the bottle of liquid band-aid. There are fresh cuts on his swollen knuckles, and though he doesn't say so, both of his hands look like they’re broken.
“Let me help.” I say, gently removing the bottle from his battered hands.
Ezra says nothing to stop me, so I hop up on the counter and pull both of his hands into my lap.
“You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” I ask, ripping an alcohol pad pack open to clean his cuts.
“I’m good.”
“I’m sorry.” I sputter, keeping my eyes on his hands as I bring up the conversation we’ve both been avoiding. “I shouldn’t have said you were damaged beyond repair. I was angry and I was willing to say anything to fight back.”
Ezra clenches his jaw as he audibly exhales. “You were calling it like it is.” He says, keeping his eyes low. “One perk of being as fucked up as I am is I can tell when someone is lying. You weren’t.”
“That’s not true.” I say, hopping down from the counter to try to get him to look me in the eye.
Ezra makes a move to leave, but I throw myself between him and the door.
“It’s been fun, Angel. Truly.” He hisses, narrowing his eyes at me. “Now kindly get out of my way.”
“N-no.” I stammer, shaking my head. “If you’re going to go back out there, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Trust me. Out there, I’m the predator. Never the prey. This is nothing compared to the damage I inflict.”
“I’m not letting you leave.” I say, moving between him and the door.
He lets out a dark laugh before looking down at me. “What are you going to do?” He challenges, stepping closer. “Are you going to try to stop me, Angel?”
His voice is menacing, and the cold, calculated way he’s staring at me reminds me so much of the first night we met. Of how much he used to terrify me. He and I have come so far since then and I refuse to let the Ezra I know just slip away. Without thinking, I lunge for the knife sticking out of the holster on his hip and hold it up against him. I won’t attack him, but he doesn’t know that.
“You think taking my knife will protect you? I could kill you with my bare hands, Angel. Snap that pretty little neck of yours so quickly you won’t even feel it.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but I would. And the sad thing is, there wouldn’t even be any repercussions for me. We wouldn’t even have to hide the body. After all, no one would come looking for you. No one would care. You’d be just as insignificant as your dead little sister.”
“Shut up.” I scream, shaking my head. “Just shut the fuck up!”
“Maybe I should kill you. Then you two can finally reunite, just like you always wanted.”
He steps closer, forcing the blade against his throat. I try to back away towards the vanity, but his footsteps seem to follow mine.
“Do it.” He taunts. “Now’s your only chance. I’m unhinged. Two seconds away from killing you and every person you’ve ever cared about. If you’re smart, you’ll eliminate the threat now.”
I stare at him for a few seconds as I try to still my quivering hand.
Ezra laughs. “You think you’re a match for me, but you’re wrong. You don’t crave pain the same way that I do. You don't even have it in you to hurt me. You and I are nothing alike.”
“You’re wrong.” I say, pressing the knife into his skin deep enough to draw blood. “I can be just as brutal to protect the ones I love. And whether or not you want to accept it, you are someone I love.”
“You shouldn’t love someone like me.” He says, inching his body closer until the hard edge of vanity bites into my lower back.
I squeeze the base of the knife tighter as I watch the blood slowly seep down the blade.
“I’m a dangerous man.” He says, gently wrapping his hand around my trembling wrist. His touch is soft, tender even, and the resistance inside of me starts to slip. I shake my head in a feeble attempt to keep focused, but his smoky grey eyes lock onto mine and I sink into their inky depths as everything else melts away.
“I’ll hurt you.” He growls, yanking my wrist down and painfully twisting it behind my body. The sharp knife slips from my fingers and crashes onto the vanity as he forces me to turn around to stop my arm from snapping.
“I’ll use you.” He says, gripping my hair and forcing me to bend over as he retrieves his knife.
He presses my face against the cold granite, and I almost want to cry. Not because I’m scared, but because this is the first time I’ve felt anything in days.
“Is this what you want?” He hisses, gripping the back of my neck in a painful sign of possession as his fingers dig into my flesh. “You want to feel my monster?”
Yes. I want to scream, but I hold back, not wanting anything to change whatever this is that’s building between us. This is what I needed. I needed him.
“This.” He says, ripping the towel off of my body and leaving me bare and exposed. “This is who I really am. I don’t ask, I take. I don’t build, I destroy. I don’t fix, I break.”
Using his knife, Ezra scratches a long line from the nape of my neck down to the top of my ass, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. My body trembles and I visibly flinch as he slams the knife down on the granite, mere inches from my face.
“I’ve shielded you from this.” He taunts, yanking off his belt and kicking off his jeans and boxers. “Because I wanted to be different for you. But I’ll never change and it’s time you see me for who I really am. A fucking monster.”
He releases my head and his fingers bite into my hips with a bruising grip. He doesn’t ease into me. He kicks my legs apart, licks his fingers and sweeps his hand from the top of my clit down to my ass. He isn’t gentle or kind. He places his cock at my entrance, and without warning, slams into me with so much intensity that my body keels over.
“Fuck.” I groan, trying to scramble up to my elbows as my body lurches forward from his erratic thrusts. The sudden fullness is equally as pleasurable as it is painful and my body writhes beneath him as I experience a storm of sensations.
“You summoned the monster, Angel.” He hisses, pounding his enormous cock into me mercilessly. “Now this tight little pussy belongs to him.”
Sweat coats my skin as every touch sets my body on fire. It’s too good. The angry strokes, the dangerous possessiveness, even the sound of his powerful hips slapping my ass is sending me over the edge.
My body trembles as an orgasm builds within me. Suddenly, I want him to see what he’s doing to me. I want him to know just how good it feels to have him inside of me. To watch his reaction as I come all over his cock. To know that despite what he thinks, I can take whatever his monster throws my way.
I move up from my elbows and shift my weight to the palms of my hands. From this new position, I can see Ezra in all of his beautiful glory. He’s naked too and his entire body is coated with a light sheen of sweat, making every hard line on his body radiate under the light. I watch him for a moment as all the lust, anger, and possessiveness explodes out of him. He grips my hips tighter and his eyes stare mesmerized at the crux of where his cock meets my pussy. Then, as if he senses I’m watching, his eyes flicker up and I immediately implode.
Stars burst behind my eyes as I grind against his cock and savor each delicious stroke he throws my way. I’m coming apart and I’m milking his cock like my life depends on it.
I blink my eyes open and search for his eyes in the mirror. There they are. The hazy grey orbs with the power to emote so much and make me feel so many things. We lock eyes and Ezra sees the effect he has on me, at the same moment I see the effect I have on him. It’s too much for either of us to handle. As we reach the peak of our impossible high, he flashes me a wicked grin and I brace my hand against the mirror, preparing for the pounding of a lifetime.
The second my skin touches the glass, his smile falters and before I even realize what’s happening, the fullness I feel inside of me vanishes.
The severance is so out of the blue, so jarring that for a second I just stand there squeezing my eyes shut, giving my body time to mourn the loss. When I’m ready to speak again, I blink my eyes open and find the bathroom completely empty.
For a second, I stand there questioning my sanity. Did I just imagine that whole scenario? I glance around the room in disbelief, seeing no traces of Ezra in sight.
I turn back around to face the sink, and the pieces of the puzzle click together. He was here. The black pocket knife he left on the counter proves it. I pick it up and close it, gripping it tightly in my hands.
What the hell happened? My eyes travel up to stare at my reflection, and that’s when I see it. The bloody handprint I must’ve left on the mirror. Fuck. I cut myself earlier without realizing it and the blood must have sobered him up. Goddamnit, Ezra.
Ezra was right about one thing. He is a monster. But he’s my monster and I wouldn’t want him any other way.