Page 37 of Reaper & Ruin
I just had to remain positive… yeah.Positive.
Everything would be fine.
Chapter Twelve, Are You A Cunt, Reaper?
Iwas dying. The end was near. All I could see was darkness, and my body had turned against me. There was no escape. No saving grace in the form of a miracle. My time on this earth was done, and it was all because of the terrible beast wreaking havoc inside me.
My fuckinguterus.
“Have I mentioned that I’m dying?” I groaned, sprawled out on the couch, clutching a pillow to my stomach like it would stop the cramps from eating me alive. “I think this is it. Tell Atlas that I loved him. Also, don’t let him forget to feed Malivore when he gets all sad that I’m dead.”
Gio, standing at the kitchen counter chopping garlic, glanced over with an amused look on his stupidly handsome face. He had his sleeves rolled up, showing off his muscular forearms, and he wasn’t helping.At all. I wanted to fuck hisbrains out, and smother him with a pillow, and my brain was struggling to pick which was more appealing.
“You’re not dying,” he said, throwing a chunk of garlic into the pan with a casual flick of his wrist. “And I already fed Malivore. Twice. So even if Atlas somehow forgot, I would never.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe this is it. The period that kills me.” I sat up just enough to narrow my eyes at him. “Do I look like I’m faking it? Have some sympathy, Reaper.”
“Giovanni.” He raised an eyebrow, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead as he smirked at me. “I’m sure it’s rough, but I think you’ll survive. You are strong,amore mio.I believe you will make it through this and enjoy the rest of your life.”
I threw a hand over my face dramatically. “Survival isn’t guaranteed. I could be bleeding out, and you’re just letting me die while you cook like this isn’t the apocalypse.”
He chuckled as he stirred the sauce in the pan, filling the cabin with the mouthwatering smell of garlic and basil. “I’m making Bolognese, not your funeral dinner.”
I groaned louder, kicking my feet against the arm of the couch for effect. “Bolognese isn’t going to fix this! Nothing but a cyanide pill will.”
“Maybe not, but it’ll taste good.” His tone was playful, but it was enough to make me want to throw something at him. Too bad I was too weak from the slow death currently happening inside me. Maybe next week I could schedule his murder in my diary. Only if could fit it in between my super busy plans of world domination, naps and seeing if Atlas would let me choke him out for a change so I could see if I enjoyed it.
“God, you’re heartless. If I weren’t on the verge of death, I’d kick your ass for not bringing me chocolate.” I sighed anddropped my pillow, swapping its comfort for Malivore when she wandered over to me.
Smothering myself in her fluff seemed more fun than whatever else Mother Nature had decided to fuck me over with today.
Gio kept chuckling, like I was a comedian and not his worst nightmare. “There’s chocolate in the cupboard. I was saving it for dessert, but if you’re that desperate—”
I was on my feet instantly, bidding my favorite girl goodbye.
“I hate you. Do you hear me, Gio? I despise you.” I grabbed the nearest blanket, one made of bright yellow and covered in sunflowers, and pulled it over my head like I was about to crawl into a cave and hibernate. “Just let me die in peace. I’ll haunt you from the grave and be a spooky bitch. You know you’d like that.”
“You can haunt me while I eat this Bolognese.” He was still grinning as he finished up the sauce, and I hated how smug he looked about it. “Besides, I know you’re just being dramatic. If it were really that bad, you’d have passed on by now.”
“I have passed on,” I mumbled through the blanket. Not at all walking into things or almost tripping. “I’m a ghost. I’ve already left my body.”
Before he could reply with another sarcastic comment, the door to the cabin swung open, letting in a brief gust of warm summer air and one of my favorite things in the world when I peeked out of my blanket.
“Atlas!” I squealed. “You’re home!”
He was a sight for sore eyes—blond hair falling in soft waves over his forehead, his tall, lean frame moving with a confidence that always made my heart skip a beat. He was shirtless, and even though I was supposed to be dead, I still continued to peek out from under the blanket to admire him and his tattoos.
I kinda wanted a skeleton tattoo. Just a small one. Maybe on my hip bone so he could admire it when he was eating hisdessert. It was a shame needles were devil things that hurt me too much.
“Malyshka, what’s this about you dying?” Atlas asked with a grin as he dropped his backpack and wet shirt onto the counter. Without missing a beat, he came over and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead and hugging me tight. “You can’t leave me, and I’m not in the mood to commit suicide. Not after I just slipped in a puddle like an idiot. No, I need you to kiss my bruises better.”
“Okay, I won’t die yet.” I lifted my blanket enough to look at him, pouting. “Tell Gio off; he’s being heartless while I’m on my deathbed.”
Atlas glanced over at Gio, who was calmly stirring the sauce. “Gio, stop being heartless.”
Gio rolled his eyes but didn’t stop cooking. “She’s being dramatic. If she were really dying, she wouldn’t be talking so much. But it turns out that only dick sucking makes her quiet. Even death can’t do it.”
“Excuse me for trying to have a final conversation before I kick the bucket,” I said, trying to sound offended, but it only came out in a pitiful whine.
