Killing Me Softly (Reaper Romance)

Chapter Twelve: Don't Fear the Reaper

He seemed to truly want her to live, which, to Briseis seemed kinda weird given his job. But, if he truly meant it, she was ready take his words to heart.

Briseis stepped out and dried her body before stepping out of the bathroom. She took her dripping wet hair and flung it to her shoulder to wring it dry, twisting it over the tub before pulling a towel across it.

She threw on her boy shorts and firefighter's t-shirt. Throwing her towel around her neck to catch her damp hair, she wiped the steam from the mirror. Looking into her own eyes in the mirror, she shook her head. "What are you doing, Bree?"

Hating to sleep with wet hair, but loathing blow drying, Briseis sauntered into the living room to turn on the TV. Standing by the coffee table, she flipped through the channels, not yet willing to commit to getting comfortable until she found something entertaining. As she flipped she landed on a televangelist preaching about death. His loud, passionate voice was stereotypical to his profession, but she how, she found herself pausing to listen. Looked like a 40-something used car salesman, but his voice hit her like thunder.

"What are you so afraid of? Life? Death? You cannot fear or worry on what you can't control." He yelled to her as the screen provided his name as Jonah Ramsey. "God doesn't want you to worry about those things! He wants you to focus on the word! He wants you to focus on being the best person you can be!" Jonah's face was shiny with the sweat of exertion and stage lights. He nodded as the unseen audience jeered and clapped. "When I lost Brenda and Cole, I thought my life was over! You can't fight death, but you can supercede it!" Jonah balled his hands into tight fists and flung them to the sky with the skill of a thespian. "You can rise above death with love! Only love is stronger than death!"

Briseis rolled her eyes and clicked the TV off. Rise above death? She scoffed at the black screen. Obviously, the preacher has never met the guy. She grabbed her Saint's blanket off the sofa.

She turned and headed to her bedroom, when the faint scent of jasmine and flowers wafted into her nose.

Briseis jumped as she turned the corner to find the familiar dark stranger standing in her kitchen. "Holy shit!" she hissed, stepping back in fright. She panted to catch her breath, covering her body with her Saint's blanket protectively. "How the hell did you get into my kitchen?" Briseis yelled.

Micah looked at her perplexed. "I told you I would come back for your answer."

She coughed, trying to clear the uneasiness from her throat. "Yeah, I know...but, couldn't you've just..I don't know, use the front door? Her trembling hands smoothed back her long, chestnut hair. Briseis felt terribly vulnerable seeing a reaper standing in her home. One minute she was finally starting to get comfortable and get some rest, the next a tall, blonde angel of death is leaning against her kitchen counter staring at her in her jammies. Clearly this guy wasn't too big on boundaries.

Micah stared into her eyes and picked up on her frantic looks to him and the front door, as if she was examining all her possible means of escape. He took a step forward only to see her take another step away from him. He didn't really think to just knock on her door because reapers never really had to do such a thing. She should've been grateful he decided to appear in a neutral place like her kitchen and not her bedroom or bathroom. Other reapers may not have been so considerate of her private space. Reapers could come in anywhere, anytime with total free access to the human world, so appearing wherever you want just came natural in the world of reapers. "I mean you no harm, Briseis Devareaux."

"Tell that to my heart that nearly jumped out my fucking mouth." She clutched her chest, panting.

"I have a proposition to tell you. Please sit down."