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“I won’t lock you in, but I’m asking you to keep your door locked. Stay hidden a little longer for me, alright?”
“Why?” Something wasn’t right. I could sense it.
His eyes betrayed a quick flash of anger. “Because I think we have a rat,” he spat.
My eyes widened. “Like someone betraying the club?”
“Yeah. I don’t trust anyone but my officers right now. You don’t go with anyone unless it’s Reaper, Raiden, Manic, Cowboy, or me. Got it?”
“Okay. Should I be concerned?”
“No, honey. No one is gonna hurt you here. Just a precaution. Nothing more.” He leaned in, pausing for a heartbeat before his thumb caressed my jaw. “Do it for me. Yeah?”
“I don’t like it, but I’ll listen,” I promised.
“Good girl. I’m gonna have Reaper walk you back to your room.”
I followed Devil’s gaze to the door, finding Reaper as he stood facing us, his expression guarded.
Devil helped me to my feet, keeping a firm hold around my waist. “Been wantin’ to do this since we met,” he confided right before his mouth swooped down and his lips pressed to mine.
It wasn’t a life-altering kiss, but it held passion and the promise of more to come. Rough, wild, and delicious to the extent that I almost swayed as he released me. I licked my lips,tasting him as he slapped me on the ass, pushing me gently toward Reaper.
“See that she locks the door when you leave. No one bothers her.”
“You got it, pres.”
Reaper walked into the hall, and I followed, remembering the surly dictate that I didn’t walk next to him.I lead. You follow.Grumpy ass.
We reached my room without a single word of conversation.
He opened the door, following me inside after I entered first. I stood there, wondering why he seemed so preoccupied. His hand lifted, and he scratched at his neck. That motion exposed the back of his wrist, usually covered by his leather gloves and the splotchy, discolored skin that extended to his palm.
Oh, wow.Reaper has vitiligo, I discovered with surprise.
I didn’t notice before because the ink on his body hid almost all the pigment on his skin. His toned, sculpted muscle provided the perfect canvas for the black ink mural that spread from his chin to his fingertips, painting his skin in beautiful strokes seamlessly merging from one tattoo to the next.
Thousands of dollars in quality artistry depicting everything from skulls to barbed wire to a cemetery complete with headstones below a willowy moon. Even the reaper on his right forearm blended into the surrounding ink.
Not an inch of skin was uncovered to the air beyond the section on both hands. He removed his t-shirt since I saw him last. Only his leather vest draped his lean, cut torso. What a beautiful canvas.
But all that ink disguised his condition and left nothing for the world to mock.
My breath stuttered, and my heart ached, knowing what he’d done to conceal his condition. I couldn’t stop staring, thinking ofJosie. Had the kids growing up with Reaper been cruel to him, too?
Before I could say a word, his hand wrapped around my throat, shoving me up against the gray wall of the bedroom as his large body caged me in. “Why are you staring at me like that?” His low growl accompanied the flash of anger in his eyes.
He was always quick to jump on the defensive, never pausing to consider that I wouldn’t judge him.
“You want to stare at the freak, too?”
My head attempted to shake but couldn’t, locked in place by two of his fingers anchored to my chin. “No,” I managed to choke out, hating the fury that masked his pain. “I know someone else with vitiligo. People can be cruel.”
“People,” he scoffed as he blinked rapidly, ingesting my words as if he couldn’t believe what I’d said. “Tell me,” he demanded, probably thinking I’d lie. “Who has it?”
“Amelia’s daughter, Josie. She’s only eleven, and the kids at her school treat her terribly.”
“Because of her skin?”
