Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

14. Reaction

When I later awoke from my sleep, the bright sunlight shone through the room's window directly into my eyes. I shut them tightly and let out a quiet groan, rolling over away from the window. They quickly reopened when my hand fell to the empty side of the bed before me.

I shot up and searched the room through bleary eyes. Though illuminated by the sunrays splashed over the floor and walls, the bedside lamp was still off. I turned on the lamp to see an empty room; the door to the bathroom was wide open, and the light was off. Striker's clothes, boots, and hat were gone — even his guitar was missing.

I frantically scrambled out of bed, chilled goosebumps suddenly forming on my bare arms and shoulders after the blanket fell back to the mattress. I wrapped my arms around myself, and my hand eventually found both Stolas' pendant and the red bandana still hanging from my neck.

"Striker?" I muttered, my voice still a little raspy. The floorboards creaked as I took a few hesitant steps around the room. A sickening feeling settled in my stomach at the thought of the very real possibility that Striker had left me.

What do I do? I thought, the pang of betrayal resonating in my chest. Tears pricked my eyes, but I stubbornly pushed them down and clenched my teeth. After a moment of scattered thoughts reeling through my head, I let out a sigh of quiet resignation.

I guess . . . I guess I should just go home.

I could feel my hands trembling slightly as I pulled on my shoes and gathered my things in my backpack.

I don't belong here, anyway. . .

I took one last look around the room to ensure I had gotten all of my belongings, then opened the door and stepped out into the hall, locking the door behind me. I checked the time on my phone-it was well after noon, almost one o'clock. I frowned, a bit irate at how late I had slept in. As I walked down the hallway to the stairs, I could faintly hear a melody playing. I descended the stairs slowly, looking out at the saloon half-filled with guests. There were imps and other hellborn socializing and enjoying their lunches; the bar itself was fortunately closed now, though a few of the customers were sipping on glasses of beer or some fruity drink.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I caught sight of someone perched on a stool on the small stage at the back of the saloon. He played a guitar, singing an unfamiliar song while picking skillfully at the strings. He belted out the final verse in his rough baritone voice, a few customers cheering as he reached the end of the song.

The sickness in my gut gradually dissipated as I approached the stage. There was a trio of scantily clad succubi bent over the front of the stage, their tails slowly oscillating behind them while they practically drooled over him. But he didn't pay them any mind — instead, his glowing yellow eyes fell to me, and he smiled.

"Well, hey there, Sleepin' Beauty," he said, standing from the stool and traipsing down the steps toward me. He tilted my chin up with his finger and planted a gentle kiss on my mouth, his eyes cutting to the three succubi still gawking at him. Disappointed, the horny trio stomped back to their table to order a round of margaritas.

Striker pulled away and adjusted the bandana around my neck. "Sleep good, darlin'?"

My cheeks had warmed from the sudden display of affection, but a heavy sigh escaped my lips as I rested my forehead on his shoulder.

He chuckled, giving my head a pat. "Don't tell me you're still tired."

"I thought — " I pursed my lips, the humiliation causing my face to burn. "I thought you'd left. . ."

Striker let out a soft hum and lifted my head off his frame. "Now why would I leave, darlin'?" he said with a grin. "We haven't even gone on a real date yet."

I stared at the floor and muttered, "Sorry . . . I guess I overreacted. . ."

"Don't worry 'bout it." He retrieved the black case from the side of the stage and slipped his guitar inside, then wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Now, let's get ready for that real date."

Flustered, I wordlessly followed Striker out of the saloon. He walked toward Bombproof, who was still tied up outside, and loosened his reins. "I figured we could do something similar to yesterday," he said, scratching Bombproof's snout. "Grab a bite and ride back out to the Bad Man Lands, maybe stop by the diner down the road for dinner."

I brought my hands together in front of me and looked out down the dirt road. I handed him my backpack, which he placed in Bombproof's saddlebag along with his guitar case. "Yeah, that sounds okay. Is there something else you wanted to show me out in the country?"

"Not particularly." He flashed me a smirk dripping in mischief. "I just wanted to have you all to myself."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't be getting any ideas now."

"You ain't gotta worry about me tryin' anything, darlin'." His smirk widened to a toothy grin. "That is, unless you decide you want me to show you some more sights while we're out there."

My face flushed, and I frowned as he took my waist and helped push me up onto Bombproof's back. "Dirty old man," I grumbled under my breath, positive he couldn't hear me.

Striker slipped a booted foot through the stirrup and hopped up on the beast's back, settling right behind me in the saddle. His body pressed firmly against mine, causing the heat in my face to rise again. He leaned forward to take the reins, and he stuck his head over my shoulder and brought his mouth to my ear.

"Oh, you haven't seen just how dirty I can be yet, darlin'," he said in a low, growling voice.

His words along with his animalistic voice and hot breath in my ear made my body erupt in a scorching fever. I bit my bottom lip hard, trying to stifle my embarrassment. He let out a cackle and smacked the reins to send Bombproof trotting down the road.

I glared at him in a mix of annoyance and frustration. "I don't particularly mind flirting, but I do like to know more about my date than just how good they are in the sack."

Striker raised his eyebrows slightly and half-smiled. "Alright, then. So what do you wanna know?"

Looking back at him, I said, "And I can ask you anything?"

"Almost anything."

I pursed my lips, mustering up the courage to ask what I'd been wondering about all morning.

"How did you get all those scars?"