Page 165 of Reaper's Claim

She was mine now.

Heck, she was always mine, it’s just now, for the first time, I was openly declaring it.

Boy, I wasn’t looking forward to when her old man woke up and found out.

***

You know how there are moments in life where you just wished you could hold on to it for a bit longer and make the time tick slower to let that moment last longer without anything ruining it? As Abby slept with her head on my chest and one arm around me, that was exactly how I felt. I wanted the moment to last forever.

It hadn’t taken long for her to close those beautiful eyes and fall asleep. She tossed and turned and didn’t get comfortable until she rested her head on my chest and draped one of her slim arms across me like I was her teddy bear. I enjoyed every moment of it.

Still, I couldn’t figure out why such a beautiful girl would want anything to do with me. I wasn’t called the Reaper for no reason. I reminded most people of death, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t seen the men I killed or the blood on my hands. She saw through all that bullshit and still wanted to be with me.

She was perfect, and I was fucking lucky.

Abby

I slowly woke up, my eyes fluttering open. God, I was comfortable and warm. I moved to my side but was trapped under a heavy arm. My eyelids bounced open, and I recognized that tattooed arm immediately.

He stayed. I had thought he would take off as soon as I fell asleep.

I turned under his arm so I could see his face.

I ran a finger down his strong jawline. Kade really didn’t know how handsome he was. My fingers lingered on the tattoo on his neck.

My stomach turned when I recalled the way he said “I love you” last night. It still took the breath from me. I had always loved him. It was unconditional, and I was still coming to terms with it.

His eyes sprang open, and mine looked into his deep gray eyes.

It was a love so strong that it was undying; impossible to destroy. It was the type of love that filled novel’s pages, which romance movies aimed to feature.

Every bone in my body ached with a warning; every muscle stiffened with fear at the thought of him. But like the stubborn person I was, I didn’t listen to my own body’s warning.

He was a flame, able to burn through me. He was the flame, and I was the moth; unknowing of the harm this man could cause within me or the power that he would one day hold over me.

If I knew then what I knew now, would I still let myself be drawn to him? I often asked myself this question.

But now as I stared into his misty gray eyes I had my answer. Yes, I would do everything the same because I loved him, and this love was worth every torment I would face for being with him.

Every torment, every second glance, and every argument I was sure to have with my father. It was all worth it.

“Morning.” I smiled, and for a split second for the first time in days, my mind wasn’t on Dad.

Till I remembered.

“Morning,” his hand ran down my side and stopped on my hip. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I stretched out. “Wonder how Dad is.”

“I’ll get dressed and take you up if you want.”

Frowning, I answered. “I’m sure you got more important things to do.” Like running the club.

“You come first.”

A sly smile spread across my lips, and my fingers danced down his arm. “Even Dad never put us in front of the club.”

“I’m not your father.”

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