Reaper (Boston Underworld, #2)

by A. Zavarelli

Damaged souls have their own beauty. A dark, terrifying beauty. The same type of beauty I recognize in Ronan.

His wild and panicked eyes find mine, and my heart splinters. I crawl up on the bed beside him and grab his face. “Shhh, Ronan,” I whisper. “It’s okay. Just look at me. Only me.” To everyone’s surprise, my words seem to soothe him. So, I keep repeating them, stroking his face beneath my fingers. He never takes his eyes off me. “Do you trust me?” I ask him. He nods.

voice is faint and scratchy, but she speaks. For me. “He says… he will protect you.” “What?” I blink at her. She doesn’t reply. Instead, she smiles and pulls my face down so she can kiss me on the forehead. And then she closes her eyes and falls back into unconsciousness.

Her arm brushed mine as she filled my coffee cup, and she looked right at me and smiled. Most women were afraid of me, I think, and they never looked right at me like that. But she did. And she wasn’t laughing. She didn’t treat me like I was different or make me uncomfortable. My arms were shaking, and my heart was beating fast. It reminded me of the pills they used to give us at the compound,

He isn’t at all sweet. But if I wanted sugar, I’d eat a fucking cupcake.

I don’t think he’s got eyes for Sasha, but I still don’t like him looking at her the way he does. I don’t like anyone looking at her. Because she’s mine.