The Six | A Reverse Harem Novel | ✔️

Twenty Three

Fear closed my throat. The body didn’t twitch or move as I neared it. It remained still, covered in the blood, and partially hidden until I rounded the side of the couch.

Lain on its stomach, the body was lying on both its arms with one leg bent at the knee and the other straight out. It almost looked like they were sleeping. I stood over it, barely holding back the urge to vomit.

Whimpering, I lifted a shaky hand towards the body, aiming to flip it over. My hand met cold, wet, bloody clothes, stinking to the corpse. The coal hair, slicked back like Ryker always wore it, was filled with blood as well. I whimpered louder, clutching the shoulder and shaking him.

“Dad?” Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. Angrily, I wiped them away, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Ryker?”

This couldn’t be happening! This couldn’t be happening! I chanted the sentence in my head, over and over, until more tears spilled down my cheeks. Sobbing softly, my body collapsed on the floor, barely held up by my knees.

“No,” I willed him alive, “no, no, no, no, no….”

Reaching out, I slicked his hair back, ignoring the gobs of blood that coated my palms. It was sticky and cool. He had lain here for many hours. My throat caught as the familiar scent of his cologne wafted up to my nose, muted by the griming rusty smell of blood.

“Blue?”

Lewis’ concerned voice stabbed through my reverie, waking me temporarily. Slowly, I lifted tear-filled eyes to his and held out my hands like a toddler. His heat, I needed his heat.

“H-Hold m-me, please.” Three words stuttered out over complete heartbreak. Instantly, he was near me, gathering my body off the floor and into his arms. Gently he ran his hands up and down my spine, humming under his breath. “R-Ryker…”

“Yes, Blue?” He let me pull away, staring down at my face, puzzled. “Sweetheart,” he cooed when I sobbed again, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“He’s dead.”

His hands caught the back of my head, delving into my thick hair. Lewis massaged my head, banding his other arm beneath my bottom to hold me closer. I clung to him, seeking his love and attention. Even though I could barely breathe, he still wasn’t holding me tight enough.

“Babe,” he called me delicately, “how do you know he’s dead?”

Without looking, I pointed behind the couch. His confusion grew as he walked around the edge, but his deep gasp signaled he found what I was motioning toward. Hot breath speared across my cheek before his lips met mine. Lewis kissed me like a man starved, passionately rubbing his lips against mine before shoving his tongue between my teeth.

I reciprocated, forgetting about my tears and fears long enough to shove my fingers into his inky hair and pull him closer. We kissed deeply, wrapping around each other a mere meter from my adoptive father’s dead body. Tears pricked my eyes again, slipping down my cheeks, when I abruptly yanked away from him.

Shoving Lewis away, he lost his footing and nearly slammed to the floor as I darted down the hallway. He followed behind me, calling my name in alarm. Ignoring him, I slammed open the bathroom door, wildly staggered to the toiled, and emptied the contents of my stomach into it. His hands climbed my spine, drifting to free my hair to hold it up and out of the bowl.