Page 11 of Carnal Games

Or maybe I’m being biased from my interaction with Nathan yesterday. I know all too well how looks can be deceiving and just how hard it is to find trustworthy people these days.

My attention is drawn back to the pair. My heart gulping in fear when Nathan aggressively goes toe to toe against my reaper, who doesn’t look afraid in the least.

Whatever’s their story, it is ugly.

Nathan stabs his finger in Mr. Severe’s chest, whispering harsh words. To which the other man replies with an imperceptible move of his lips. No visible change in his expression or even a twitch in his muscles as he absorbs Nathan’s anger unflinchingly.

Almost like he believes he deserves it.

Whatever Mr. Severe says makes Nathan shake his head in disgust and rake fingers through his hair. I breathe easy when he steps away.

A sudden protectiveness makes home for my reaper.

Nathan says a few more words before storming off.

I stay rooted to my hidden spot, fighting the strong urge to go and comfort the man-turned-my-obsession. Especially when I witness real emotions cross his haunting face for the first time.

Anguish.

Pain.

Regret.

He stares after Nathan for the longest seconds, his hands balling into fists by his sides. He closes his eyes, head hanging toward the ground while his broad and unbending shoulders slump defeatedly.

The sight crushes me irrevocably.

I realize I’m intruding on a monumental and vulnerable moment not meant for anyone’s eyes. This isn’t a man who shows weakness. I don’t need to know him intimately or for years to understand that this is a rare glimpse. A side of him he allows no one to think, much less view.

Yet I have, in all its saddening and gut-wrenching beauty.

As my heart aches for my scary and broken reaper, I can’t deny the unfaltering truth any longer.

I want him to be mine.

And I’m willing to cross every line to make it happen.

Chapter Four

Iris

Today luck seems to be on my side because when I make a mad dash to the grocery store with a prayer to run into Nathan again, I see him in one of the aisles.

He doesn’t see me as he browses the stocked refrigerators.

I don’t want to approach him in a way that raises suspicions that I stalked him here. Or that I intruded on his private chat with Mr. Severe in the park.

Not that I heard a damn word.

At the risk of looking like a clumsy fool again, I stock my arms full of snacks. My plan is to recreate our yesterday’s meet-cute. The moment he turns and walks forward while studying the item in his hand, I step into his path.

We collide.

Anoomphleaving my mouth.

His arm flings out to catch my wrist in a quick reflex before I go tumbling down. Although, the items in my hands don’t havethe same fate. They fall to the floor around us but neither of us pay attention to them. Instead, our eyes lock on each other.

His apologetic frown dissolves into an amused grin upon recognizing it’s me.

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