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.

He’s like a trip wire, rigged to detonate a category five hurricane of emotions inside of me. But I’m a masochist of the highest order, so I let him obliterate me. Again and again.

It’s never hunger I find there, but madness. Oh, I love that madness. Because madness is better than nothingness. Madness means he isn’t completely immune to feelings. Madness means it isn’t apathy he feels when he has to look upon me.

Conversation, understanding others, making decisions. These are not things I am well versed in. But killing, I can do. Without question. Without hesitance. Without a shadow of doubt in my soul.

I’m drawn to him. I always have been. But this is something else altogether. This is pure physics. He’s the lightning, and I am simply a conductor. We were always bound to converge.

The dog follows me to the door and starts to have a go at Crow when he steps inside. “What sort of dog is that?” he tilts his head to the side to examine her. “Is there something wrong with its wee legs?” “Conor thinks it’s a Corgi,” I tell him. “Google said their legs are supposed to be wee. I looked it up.”

Lmao

Who am I to argue? He does fucking own me. He’s polluted my mind so that I can only ever think of him. Only ever want him.

Ronan feels it too. This explosive link between us. All I have to do is enter his orbit, and I’m a slave to his power. I suspect that’s why he’s always avoiding me. He doesn’t want to give in to the same force.

This man’s strength is unrivaled in anyone else I’ve ever known, but right now he’s a slave to me.

Her voice is faint and scratchy. But she speaks. For me. “He says,” she forces out, “he will protect you.”

We’re oil and water. We don’t mix. I’m bad for him. And he’s no good for me either, probably. But I’m his, regardless. He needs to know that.

I can kill for her. Fight for her. Do anything for her. Anything for her but that. I can’t be a father. I don’t know how. Just as I don’t know how to be a boyfriend, or a husband, or even carry on a proper conversation.

He’s locked inside his head again. I want to know what he thinks about. I want to make sense of this man that infuriates me.

Sometimes it takes being at your lowest point to see who’s really there for you. And they’re all standing right beside me now.

Lachlan loves her too. Fiercely. And I feel truly sorry for anyone who ever tries to come between the two of them. I doubt there are any lengths they won’t go to for each other.

“So frigging what?” I retort. “We were just talking. At least someone around here knows how to use his vocabulary.”

I mean… she's not wrong

Childish? Perhaps. But a girl has to be able to protect herself by any means possible. Even if it means using a silent wall of armor.

“Alright, caveman,” Lachlan says. “We get it, she’s yours. Now fuck off out of here. I’ll sort out the lad.”

Lmfao

I catch sight of Lachlan grinning. And then the bastard winks at me. He fucking winks. Because he set this up. Set me up.

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

This constant back and forth with him is making me fucking insane.

Same pal!

He grips my hair into a makeshift pony tail and tugs on it. His mouth hovers over mine, the heat of his every exhale skating over my lips. “Nobody else gets to see you like that,” he declares. “Ye’re claimed.” His words douse me in gasoline. His eyes light the match. And when he grinds himself against me, all that’s left to do is burn for him.

He looks at me. And we both know it’s a lie. This thing between us isn’t over. I’ll always be enslaved to this man. I’d serve him any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Because, fuck me, that’s why.

“What’s her name?” He comes back into view. “Her name is dog. And how did ye know it was a girl?” I frown at him and shake my head. “You have to give her a real name. And it’s pretty easy, Ronan. She doesn’t have any balls.”

I feel protective of him, in this moment. And I never want to let anything hurt him again.

“Come back to me,” I tell him as I smooth my fingers over his skin in a soothing gesture. “Always come back to me. We can slay those demons together.”

There isn’t a thing on God’s green earth that Ronan Fitzpatrick wouldn’t do to protect me.

This man resting on my lap is my whole world. My whole life. The sun rises and sets with him. And I know he’s strong. He’s stronger than anyone I know. But just because he’s survived so many horrors in his lifetime, doesn’t mean he’s going to survive this one too.

But it’s Ronan. My Ronan. My troubled, strong, proud man. The man I love beyond all reason. Beyond all limits. It almost knocks me off balance thinking how much I love him in this moment.

“I’ll always come back to ye. Nothing could keep me away.”

“I need a baby,” I tell him. He’s silent for a long while, tipping back the glass in his hand and downing the liquor inside it. “I’m not sure I heard ye correctly,” he says. “In fact, I’m sure I didn’t.” “For practice,” I explain. Now he’s looking at me like I’ve gone mad as well.

Lmfao

I just caught the boss and the underboss of the Irish mob blushing over a baby.

Ronan is my life. My breath. My sole reason for existing sometimes. I know it sounds insane, but it’s how I feel. We were put on this earth to find each other. And when he looks at me with those dark brown eyes like he’s doing right now, I know what we have is one of a kind. A supernova. A love so rare, so unparalleled, it shines brighter than any other in existence.

“I worry about ye all the bleeding time, Sasha. All the time. I don’t know how to make it stop.” “That’s love,” I answer. “Wait until you meet our baby. It’s only going to get worse.”

“My anam cara,” we both repeat together. They are the same words carved into our wedding rings in Ogham script. The words that mean, quite simply, his soul is mated to mine.

My life, my love, my breath. May we always have each other, in this life and the next.

He is the balm to both of our troubles. Our calm in the storm. Whenever she’s upset, all he has to do is hold her, and she’s okay. I know the feeling well.