Reaper: Devil's Rose MC #1

Chapter 10: Fiona Grace

It is so incredibly weird how fast he has changed about me. About three days ago he was telling me he didn't want me in his apartment and now he won't leave my side because I have 'adjusted' to being here yet.

"Are you sure you want to spend the day with me?"

"Not a negotiation, baby."

I grumble incoherently but don't directly argue back. He smirks, knowing he's won, and tugs me further away from his home.

"When is your birthday?"

"I'm turning twenty-one on August 17th. About two months. Why?"

"Only curious."

I don't reply to his comment, not knowing what to say. It was a random question. I finish staring out of the window and ask if he's okay with me taking a shower. He shows me where the towels and everything else I might need is, also giving me a spare toothbrush. 

Not knowing if I'm going to have a change of clothes, I tell him James's address, hoping that he'll go over there and grab all my things without having to ask. He seems to get the message, instantly gathering his things (including his apartment keys so he can lock the door) so he can go while I take a shower.

I hear him on the phone right before he calls out goodbye to me. I sigh in gratefulness as I finally get my whole body clean. I definitely need all my things plus going shopping for new items. Even though I took a shower at Beatrice's house, the relief I feel is almost unreal as I wash off the new layer of sweat that permeated onto my skin. This Texas summer heat does not play around.

I don't take too long getting dressed, Reaper has given me a pair of his old shorts from high school and a large sweatshirt that drapes past my knees. Giggling quietly, I flop the long arm sleeves up and down playfully. I climb onto the couch, tucking my knees up to my chest as I wait for him to return. 

I wonder what's taking so long. He seemed like he would be right back, making it a quick trip to James's and back, but something must have held him up. I don't know how much Beatrice told him about what went down at that house, but knowing he can infer, maybe he's doing his, you know...thing. 

I wouldn't be too disappointed if he was. From my perspective, James deserves whatever comes to him. He is a messed-up guy who should get some payback on not only what he did to me but what he could have done to other girls. And for what he's teaching the boys in that house.

About thirty minutes later, he comes back into the apartment, a gash across the side of his face. His eyes are dark with anger, his chest puffed out, his knuckles bloody with some that is definitely not his own. 

He doesn't say anything to me, and I don't need confirmation of what he's been doing anyway - the evidence makes the situation clear. His fingertips brush the side of my face, a light kiss pressed onto my cheek before he disappears into his bedroom. 

The blush on my face is unmistakable, the affection taking me back. Since I got back from only being gone two days, he's changed. It's odd how fast he's changed, but I'm good with it. He's much kinder and compassionate towards me than before. From what I've been told by the other men in the MC, I'm a pretty lucky girl to see that side of him. I'm not about to complain.

"Your things are in one of the cars parked on the street. Do you want them now?"

"I don't need them. We'll just get them tomorrow."

"I'm sorry that I was gone longer than expected. Things kind of got out of control."

I glance down at him cleaning his knuckles and nod in understanding.

"He's an asshole, isn't he?"

Reaper chortles, making his way towards where I am on the couch.

"That's an understatement. Him and that guy pickle."

"You mean Dillion?"

"Oh, yeah. Him."

He sits down beside me, throwing an arm over my shoulder and tugging me into his grasp. I hold my breath for a moment as I try not to panic too much over his touch. After being with James - who might be dead at this point - for three months and having to deal with the verbal and rare physical abuse, a gentle touch from a man still irks me a bit. 

It's different when Reaper is touching me, but I am only just getting comfortable with him. It's better when I know the touch is coming. Like when Vegas held out his arm to me. I could clearly see his hand, and I was the one going to initiate the beginning touch. 

I haven't felt like I needed to do with the man I'm staying with, but ever so often, I'm on edge. We sit in silence for another moment as he finishes cleaning the rest of his wounds. He clasps his hands on his thighs, standing up from the couch gracefully, and holding out his hand from me to take.

"Would you like to go shopping now?"

"Oh, yeah. Let's go. Am I okay going like this?"

"You look beautiful. I think you should be fine."

"Are you sure? I don't want to-"

"No one will fuck with you while I'm around. If they do, they aren't going to like the result. I promise you that no one is going to say anything about it. However, if anyone has a problem, send them to me."

My eyes flick down to my fingers in my lap, my head tucked down as my light brown hair hides my face. I feel a soft grip on my chin, and my head is lifted back into place. His slate eyes stare into my blue ones, his hard stare doing nothing to calm my racing heart. The coldness of the rings on his sexy tattooed fingers sends chills down my spine.

"Don't ever drop your pretty head. You hold it high and show those motherfuckers just how strong you are. You hear me?"

His hard and undisputable tone instantly makes my panties wet, the demanding stare almost too much for my little heart to take.

"I said, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. That's a good girl."

Praise. Shit, I've always loved praise. Not that I would ever tell him that.

He kneels on the ground in front of me, inspecting my foot before rewrapping it carefully. He helps me slide on my borrowed socks and shoes from Beatrice for my right foot, so I don't ruin the bandage. As I finish getting ready, which is mostly me just eating more food, Reaper puts back on his cut. 

His biceps flex as he ties his boots, and I can't help but stare at him as he moves around. The small smirk on his lips tells me that he knows I'm staring at him, but he doesn't say anything to me. I'm sure he doesn't mind being the center of attention - at least with me. 

His hand lays on the small of my back, his presence authoritative compared to my more shy qualities. The bell on the top of the door rings as we step inside the shop, the sharp hit of the cold air getting goosebumps to line my skin. 

The woman is polite when greeting both of us, but I can tell she's a bit worried about Reaper. I place a soft hand on his chest and nod at her, telling her he's with me, not going anywhere, and he's not going to hurt anyone. 

I rub my bottom lip as I try to figure out where to go first, that's until my eyes land upon the crop tops. I squeal in excitement, dashing away from his grasp - making profanities spew from his mouth.