Upstairs
1135 Words
By midnight, the storm still hadn’t stopped.
Rain pounded relentlessly against the bar windows while laughter, music, and low conversations filled the smoky air around me.
I should’ve felt out of place here.
Instead, dangerously, I was starting to relax.
Luca had spent the last twenty minutes losing a pool game dramatically while accusing everyone of cheating.
Ghost—the silent, terrifying biker covered almost entirely in black tattoos—had somehow become my unexpected bodyguard without saying more than three words all night.
And Reaper…
Reaper watched everything.
Every movement in the room.
Every person who got too close to me.
Every glance sent my direction.
It was possessive.
Territorial.
Completely insane.
And somehow getting harder to ignore.
I finished the last sip of water in my glass when Maria approached again.
“You’re swaying.”
“I’m tired.”
“No kidding, sweetheart. You look like you’ve survived a war.”
Honestly?
Close enough.
Maria jerked her chin toward the staircase at the back of the bar. “There’s a room upstairs.”
My stomach tightened instantly. “I can’t afford—”
“It’s not a hotel,” Reaper interrupted from beside me.
His deep voice slid down my spine.
I looked at him carefully. “Then what is it?”
“Safe.”
That word again.
Dangerous how badly I wanted to believe him.
“I don’t know you,” I said quietly.
Reaper leaned back in his chair slightly, eyes fixed on me.
“You keep saying that like it matters.”
Heat crawled slowly up my neck.
God.
This man talked like every sentence meant something darker underneath.
“You always this controlling?” I asked.
A few nearby bikers suddenly looked very interested in literally anything else.
Reaper’s mouth twitched faintly.
“Yes.”
At least he was honest.
Luca burst out laughing from the pool table. “Oh, she’s definitely surviving longer than the others.”
“The others?” I repeated slowly.
Maria smacked the back of Luca’s head immediately.
“Ow—”
“Stop scaring the girl.”
“I’m comforting her with realism.”
Reaper didn’t even look away from me. “Ignore him.”
Easy for him to say.
This entire place felt like the beginning of a true crime documentary.
Still…
Nobody here had looked at me the way Daniel did near the end.
Like I was inconvenient.
Like I was weak.
Like I deserved what happened.
The realization hit unexpectedly hard.
Reaper noticed immediately.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you thinking about?”
How dangerous it was that I already felt safer with him than with the man I almost married.
I looked away first.
“Nothing.”
A lie.
Again.
Reaper stood suddenly.
The entire room shifted with the movement automatically.
Power.
That’s what it was.
Not just fear.
Authority.
Every person here moved around him instinctively.
“Come on,” he said.
My pulse stumbled. “Where?”
“Bed.”
Several bikers immediately started choking on their drinks.
Luca looked delighted.
Maria looked exhausted.
I stared at Reaper. “You cannot say things like that so casually.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “Would you prefer floor?”
Heat exploded across my face.
Luca nearly fell over laughing.
Reaper grabbed my duffel bag from beside the stool before starting toward the staircase without waiting for an answer.
Completely certain I’d follow him.
Arrogant asshole.
Unfortunately…
I did follow him.
The music downstairs faded as we climbed the stairs. My heartbeat got louder with every step.
Not fear.
Not entirely.
That was the problem.
The hallway upstairs was dimly lit, quiet except for distant thunder outside.
Reaper stopped in front of a door at the very end.
When he opened it, I froze slightly.
The room was surprisingly nice.
Dark wood floors.
Large bed.
Black sheets.
Leather chair near the window.
Minimal.
Masculine.
Clean.
Very him.
I stepped inside cautiously.
“You live here?”
“Sometimes.”
The door shut behind us with a heavy click.
My body immediately became hyperaware of the fact that we were alone.
Very alone.
Reaper set my bag down near the dresser before turning toward me slowly.
Too slowly.
“You’re nervous.”
“You’re huge, tattooed, and look capable of murder.”
“Fair.”
“And you keep staring at me like—”
“Like what?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because he’d stepped closer.
Not touching.
Just there.
Massive.
Warm.
Dangerously close.
My pulse started racing so hard it was embarrassing.
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
Then back to my eyes.
“Like I want you?” he finished quietly.
The air disappeared from my lungs.
No man had ever looked at me the way Reaper did.
Like wanting me was inevitable.
Like it physically hurt him not to touch me.
“You barely know me,” I whispered.
His jaw flexed once.
“Doesn’t matter.”
That should’ve scared me.
Instead, my thighs pressed together instinctively.
Oh God.
His eyes darkened immediately.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
The silence stretched thick between us.
Heavy.
Breathing suddenly felt difficult.
Reaper reached up slowly.
Every nerve ending in my body lit up.
But he only touched my jacket zipper.
“Relax,” he murmured. “You look ready to bolt.”
“That’s because you keep saying insane things.”
One corner of his mouth lifted faintly.
Then his fingers slid down the zipper painfully slowly.
The jacket loosened.
Cool air brushed my skin beneath my thin shirt.
Reaper’s eyes dropped instantly.
Not to my chest.
To the bruises near my collarbone.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Gone was the heat.
Gone was the teasing tension.
What replaced it was far more terrifying.
Violence.
Pure, controlled violence.
“Who did that?” he asked quietly.
I swallowed hard.
“It’s nothing.”
His eyes snapped to mine.
“That’s not an answer.”
I suddenly understood exactly why everyone in the bar obeyed him so quickly.
This man radiated danger when angry.
And somehow, my bruises made him furious.
I stepped back instinctively.
Reaper noticed that too.
His expression shifted immediately.
Softer.
Not soft.
But softer.
“Easy,” he said quietly.
The gentleness in his voice somehow affected me more than the intimidation.
Because nobody had spoken to me gently in a very long time.
My throat tightened unexpectedly.
Damn it.
I looked away quickly before he could notice.
Unfortunately, Reaper noticed everything.
“You can stay here tonight,” he said. “Nobody comes upstairs without my permission.”
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes.”
I should leave.
I should absolutely leave.
Instead, I whispered the most dangerous possible thing.
“Okay.”
- Writer
