Reaper: Devil's Rose MC #1

Chapter 4: Fiona Grace

I pull the meat out of the fridge and seeing that it's already defrosted, I put them in the sink. I use the knife to cut open the packaging, letting the blood run down the drain, and I instantly think of Reaper (at least that's who I think it is - would be creepy if he wasn't). 

He's probably standing there naked in the shower, the dark red blood being washed off his body running down the drain. I gulp and scold myself for only meeting the man and thinking about what he looks like naked. 

As I cook the meat, spicing it with cumin, pepper, salt, and paprika, I think of my father, well Cassius anyway. He was the one who taught me how to cook when my mother had trouble getting home to make my dinner. I never blamed her though, she was busy, but I was always hungry. Then, trying to cook myself mac and cheese, I set a dishtowel on fire and that's when he knew he had to step in.

For six months, he taught me everything he knew. His Puerto Rican heritage taught me all I needed to know about adobo - my favorite seasoning on this earth - but as of right now, that wouldn't help me so I have to improvise. 

When I would go to my mother's parents' house, before everything fell apart, they would teach me how to cook their favorite meals from when they lived in Spain. We all had so much fun in the kitchen together, being able to eat our own heritage and history. 

But now that I don't know who my biological father is, I don't know half of myself. I thought I was a mix of Spanish and Puerto Rican, but really, I could be anything. I bite my bottom lip as I check if the chicken is fully cooked, and smile happily when it's to perfection. It's not gourmet, but it's good enough. I will practically eat anything at this point. 

I moan as the food hits my tongue, and I shovel the food in my mouth greedily.

"I'm glad you're eating."

I peer up once again, this time unsurprised by the unexpected entrance of the man who may or may not be Reaper.

"I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Do you want to help yourself to anything else?"

"I will once I finish this first course. I made a lot, so..."

"I'm Reaper."

That answers that question.

"Fiona. Nice to meet you."

"I like it."

"I'm sorry for barging in on you. It's only for a couple of nights, I swear."

"Don't worry about it."

An awkward silence fills the space as he gathers the food he would like onto a plate and leaves me alone again. I hear the sound of the bedroom door slamming close, making me flinch but also sag my body in relief. He doesn't seem too angry about me being here which is good. 

I accidentally step down on my foot, letting out an uncontrolled whimper. Surprise tears gather in my eyes as I sink down to the floor. I take a deep breath and reach up over the counter to grab paper towels, yanking the whole roll down onto the ground with me. 

My hands shake slightly as I take in the damage to my foot. The rock isn't too large, the longer side sticking out so it will be easier to grab. My heart races erratically but I don't stop leaning forward.

"I didn't realize you were hurt."

My head whips up to find the origin of the husky, deep resounding voice.

"What?"

"You hurt yourself. I didn't know."

I nod my head, knowing that he could see it if he can see the rock wound in my foot.

"Yeah, I hurt myself in the forest. I'm just trying to pull it out."

"By yourself?"

"Unless you are going to help me, yeah, by myself."

I wince at my sarcastically harsh tone, scrunching my nose in distaste.

"I'm sorry. That was rude."

"No, you're in pain. I understand. I can fix it."

"Really? You'll help?"

"You sure as hell need it. I'm surprised they didn't take you to Bear."

"Something about another run or...I don't know."

"I do. I was, uh, part of it."

"Could you please get the rock out of my foot? That would be darling of you."

"Oh right, sorry."

He kneels on the ground in front of me, ripping a paper towel from the roll and pulling cream out of the drawer next to me.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"I don't like to work with people watching me."

Why do I feel like that goes to more than just healing wounds? It's not worth arguing with him, so I don't. Instead a reply with a quick 'fine'. Reaper's voice doesn't speak back, so I cover my eyes with two hands, making sure my eyes are squeezed tightly shut. 

If he doesn't want me to see him, I'm not going to see him. I feel a large hand wrap around the bottom of my foot as he places it in his lap, at least that's what I'm guessing. His touch is gentle, but the calluses on his hand scratch me slightly. I like it. I scooch up further against the wall, so I have some support for my back. 

In his blunt English, he warns me of what he's about to do. My scream reverberates as he yanks the rock out harshly and fast, pressing what feels like a paper towel on my foot. Slowly and diligently he wraps the wound, even putting on naturally made antibiotic cream. When he's finished, he lays my foot on the ground and stands back up.

"Rest."

That's the final word I get, and I sure as hell am going to listen to him. I make my way to the couch, not knowing where else I should, rest and hope that nightmares don't plague me as they usually do. I weakly shiver as the cold of the night hits my arms and legs, my toes turning into ice cubes. 

Instead of calling out to the man for a blanket -- he has done enough -- I close my eyes. Sleep doesn't come easy, it never does. My teeth clatter together, but in the end, exhaustion overtakes me. 

I wake up to the sun streaming through the window of the living room of his apartment. I can already tell that it's going to be a hot day. I rub my eyes to wake up quicker, glancing around the room to see it completely vacant, which is kind of disappointing. At least, it's quiet, something I haven't woken up to in too long of a time.

Even Cassius had his slow jams playlist playing in the morning. Elvis Presley, Mac Miller, Snoh Aalegra, and Bruno Major just being a few out of the many that were listed on the ten-hour playlist. I gaze down at my lap to see a blanket draping over my legs. 

He must have done that last night. 

I'm about to close my eyes again, about to fall asleep to the silence, when I hear a shout that scares the shit out of me. I close my eyes - this time in terror - clenching my hands over my ears, hiding my face in my tucked-in knees. The door bursts open to find Reaper and Poison yelling at one another.

"Reaper, man. Please. You know you can't go against Alpha's orders."

"I'm not leaving her here alone for two weeks."

"Why not? It's not like she has known you."

"I'm not entirely comfortable having her and me here at the same time. I can't leave a stranger in my home."

"She's gonna leave in two days or something."

I roll my eyes as they disregard the fact that I can hear everything they are saying.

"Boys, please. Don't talk about me like I can't hear you."

"Sorry, Fifi. He's just getting on my fucking nerves."