Cleansed with Fire (Remember the Reaper Book 2)

by S.K. Rose

I gazed into ocean blue eyes and saw the sad little girl who was crying in the yard next door. I remembered how it felt to have her small body curled up against mine. The sound of her hushed voice whispering a secret in my ear. How she tasted when we shared our first kiss. In that instant my control crumbled. I had to hold her. I needed to feel her heartbeat against mine. My princess. But all too soon the emotions that I’ve kept under lock and key, returned with a vengeance. For years it’s squeezed my heart, twisting it into something ugly and spiteful. Rage. Unbridled, unrelenting, rage.

I suck air between my teeth when he reaches for my face, caressing along the edge of my jaw with the back of his hand. My mouth opens to say something, anything, but his thumb moves to my lips and presses against them. “No, it’s not okay,” he says roughly. Then he’s gone. A faint glimmer of hope flickers deep within my soul that maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of Andrew Blackwell that still loves me after all.

Looking up at me with her crystal blue eyes, a new emotion bubbles to the surface, hate. Yet she makes no effort to escape my grasp. She’s furious, and still her body continues to betray her, pressing against mine with desire as she dances. For some sick reason, it’s turning me on to no fucking end, and I know she can feel my hardening dick press against her.

“Andrew. . .” God, it’s hard to think straight when he’s this close. “Mhm?” He gets even closer. I move back but run into the wall behind me. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I achieve a moment of clarity. “I’m bad for you,” I warn. “Let me worry about that,” he whispers.

He runs his tongue across his lips. He’s so close. I don’t care who the real Andrew is, I just want his lips on mine. “Okay, a date as friends,” he agrees, giving my other palm a gentle kiss. “Friends don’t kiss,” I whisper as I close the gap between us. He gives me a wicked grin

He deserves better. Just walk away. But I don’t. When I spin around, his lips crash against mine without a moment of hesitation. My hands reach for his hard stomach and travel upwards toward his chest. I explore each curve of his muscles, and I barely restrain myself from doing the same with my tongue. I kiss him like it’s the last chance I’ll ever get, knowing the spiteful universe will find a way to tear us apart.

There’s nothing romantic about the frantic way we cling to one another, just waves of pent up desire that threaten to drown us. Terrified of getting hurt, we let our bodies do the talking while our words catch in our throats. But my body is screaming, demanding more.

All the heartache and pain we’ve endured brought us to this very moment. We couldn’t have found the light had we not been dragged through the darkness. It’s time for the world to bend to our will. “I love you,” I say, and I mean it with everything that I am.

We never got the fairytale we deserved, so I think it’s high time we throw out the book and write it our damn selves.

I yank my chin out of his grasp and continue to glare at him. “I’m fucking broken, Andrew. You saw what I did to my mom. There’s something wrong with me, and I don’t want to break you too.” He scoffs. “Newsflash, sweetheart. I’ve put my fist through three cabinet doors, two walls, and one face. So I guess we’re both a little fucked up. Just call me the angry prince, and you can be my broken princess.” He flashes me a devilish grin.

He blows out a deep breath. “Haven’t we suffered long enough? I won’t let you push me away anymore. We have waited for this moment since we were eight years old. Shut the hell up and kiss me, will you?” I open my mouth to respond, but his lips crash against mine. For once, I do as I’m told. I shut the hell up.

She rubs her bare stomach, and I find that I’m starving too. But not for food. In one quick movement, I’m on top of her, shaking my head. “I’m not done yet.” “Andrew. . .” The words die on her lips at whatever she sees in my eyes. “My turn,” I growl.

I was not made for happiness, or light. Not love or sunshine. So, I do what I was created in this universe to do. I give in to the darkness.

I was playing the part, just as the fairytales had taught me. A helpless damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. Shivering, crying myself to sleep on the cold floor. Doing whatever it took to keep the drugs out of my system and the bruises off my skin. No more. I’ll say it again, scream it into the night if I have to. Heart of a princess, strength of a reaper.

But my thirst for blood cannot be restrained any longer. My fingers twitch with the need to inflict the same amount of pain that’s been inflicted on me. Whoever is foolish enough to walk through that door next will discover the price they pay for awakening the Reaper.

Looking down, I see that my clothes are also drenched in blood. I strip down to my filthy underwear and sag against the wall. “You’re not going to be very good company, are you?” The corpse doesn’t respond.

“Do you remember the last time you had me pinned against this door?” I ask breathlessly. His eyes snap to mine. “Yeah, I was a stupid teenager, and you slammed the door in my face.” He cringes, shaking his head as though the memory pains him. “So is that what I can expect again, Blackwell?” I bite my lip and watch his eyes darken. “I’m not a teenager anymore, princess.” His husky voice makes my core tighten with desire.