by Bo Reid
I was just too stressed out; birthdays are still hard for me even if I have gotten better with them. Add in family coming to stay with us and looking for houses near us, that was like stress and anxiety overload; strong emotions are not good for someone like me.
“How are you feeling, Dear?” Sharon asks softly from her place in a chair next to my bed, startling me a little. I really like her; she is everyone’s ideal mother. Begs the question, where is my actual mother, though?
“Better,” I sigh, sitting up.
“Think you’re up for heading downstairs? There is French toast and presents,” she smiles.
“French toast?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at her.
“The guys mentioned you happen to like French toast,” she chuckles softly.
“That I do,” I laugh, throwing the covers off and standing from my bed. I waver a little, and Sharon reaches a hand out to steady me.
“You okay?” she asks, and her eyebrows crease together in confusion.
“Yeah, head rush,” I offer her a small smile. She nods but studies me a little closer as we walk out of my room.
“Hey, Little,” Kesden greets as we walk into the vast living room where everyone is hanging out.
“Little?” Victoria asks as she walks into the room with a plate of French toast.
“Little Miss Murder,” Kesden says with a smile.
“Ahh, fitting,” Victoria says, smiling at me, before setting the plate down on the coffee table and motioning me over.
I climb over the back of the couch and settle between Ranger and Hunter. Leaning forward to take my first bite of French toast, when the powdered sugar hits my tongue, a small moan escapes my lips and I wiggle in my seat doing a little happy dance.
I haven’t had proper French toast since we moved out here. No matter how many times we try to make it here, it isn’t right. I have even called Abigale on Facetime so she could walk me through her recipe, and I still failed. None of the hoity-toity restaurants here have proper French toast.
“You ready for your present, Pretty Girl,” Hunter asks, resting his hand on my thigh as I shove the last bite of French toast in my mouth.
“Yeah,” I reply around a mouth full of food, and he chuckles. Reaching over, he runs his thumb along my lip, then sucks the powdered sugar off his thumb, smiling.
Ranger nods to Kesden, and he gets up to go into the other room. Sharon grabs my plate and walks it into the kitchen.
“Close your eyes,” Talin says, so I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands. I can hear a slight tapping on the hardwood floor, almost like heels, the sound moving closer and closer.
“Okay, open,” Kesden says; I pull my hands from my face and open my eyes. In front of me is a gorgeous pure black dog with a white patch of fur in the shape of a heart on her chest.
I look around the room at everyone smiling at me. Kesden reaches his hand down to pet the dog's head.
“You got me a dog?” I ask confused, reaching my hand out for her to sniff, and when she licks me and takes a step forward, I smile.
“Her name is Reaper, she was about to be put down at the shelter because they said she was dangerous,” Talin says.
“Why? She seems fine,” I say, moving off the couch and settling on my knees in front of her.
“’Cause she’s a pit-bull, they claimed all of them would turn on their owners eventually. But we couldn’t leave her there, so she’s yours now,” Ranger says, placing a soft hand on my shoulder.
Reaper sees his hand and moves her head to sniff him before resting her head on my shoulder over his hand. I wrap my arms around her big neck and hug her close to my chest.
“Did you guys name her?” I ask.
“No, that was the name hung up on her cage in the shelter, figured it was a sign,” Nash chimes in with a smile as tears prick the backs of my eyes.
I never saw myself as someone who could take care of another living thing, but the fact that the guys think I can, makes me happy; and they got me my very own Reaper.
Ranger
I stand by the wall of windows that overlook our snow-covered backyard. A smile pulls at my face as I watch Morana and Reaper run around in the snow. Morana is throwing snowballs, and Reaper jumps to catch them in her mouth.
Morana is barefoot in a foot of snow, with just a hoodie and sweatpants on. I tried to get her to put more clothes on; if she is getting sick, the cold won't do her any favors, but she wouldn’t listen. She insisted she was fine going out like that, and to my surprise, both Victoria and Sharon agreed she was fine too.
I guess mothers know best.
Kesden and Nash run across the yard with sleds in their hands, and I watch as Reaper backs up to stand in front of Morana, already protecting our girl. When Morana bends down and wraps her arms around Reaper's neck whispering something in her ear, she relaxes her stance and allows the guys to approach. That pair was meant to be, The Reaper and Reaper. Both misunderstood, deemed violent, and aggressive, said that they would turn on those they love, eventually. But the truth is they’re loyal, passionate, kind-hearted, understanding, and protective.
I watch as Nash helps Morana onto one of the sleds, and Reaper sits between her legs. She wraps her arms around Reaper as they go sledding down the hill laughing.
“She will be good for her,” Victoria says quietly as she steps up to my side.
“Yeah, we should have gotten her a dog years ago.”
“That wouldn’t have worked, takes a special dog to bond like that so quickly. They’re the same those two,” she nods towards Morana. “A little broken, but full of love,” she sighs.
“She’ll make a fierce mother that one,” she says quietly. “You make sure she never doubts that.”
Oh shit.
The End… For Now
Bloodlines book three in The Reapers series sure was a doozy, right? If you can't get enough of our beloved M-Girl and her Reapers, please leave a review! Make sure you’re a member of The Graveyard, so you don’t miss out on the next installment of The Reapers, Redemption!
Fun Facts:
The chapter headings are all the word “Family” in different languages. Bloodlines shows not only a different side of Morana but also another side of her men. Family is an important aspect in each of the Reapers novels, but more predominant in Bloodlines. We saw the new addition of a lost brother, the realization that Nash is her blood, as well as the mother Morana has hated for so long. We saw Talin’s relationship with his own mother, and how truly accepting a mother’s love can be.
Acknowledgments
Every time I finish a book I have the hardest time narrowing down the list of people that I want to thank. This time its a little bit easier though. First and foremost I want to thank every single reader, I have been going through such a hard time lately and you guys have been so amazing waiting for me to get my life together before receiving this book. I hope it was worth the wait.
I want to thank my editor, Ashley, for letting me drop this on her completely last minute and still getting it done in record time.
To my brother, you do more for me than I could ever thank you for. This dream of mine, to be a writer, I couldn’t do that without you backing me up. I hope to someday be able to repay you for everything you have done for me.
To my beta readers, you guys do more for me, more for these books than I can ever really thank you for.
Danielle, Katie, and Regina thank you guys for not only being readers, beta’s, and idea boards, thank you for being my friends if you never read another word I wrote it would be just fine with me as long as I got to keep our friendships.
I owe so much to so many people and I just hope you all know how much I love you guys.
Love Bo
Cult Reid
“You’re in a Cult, call your Dad.” — My Favorite Murder
You know you’re a Reaper if this describes you:
The definition of a Reaper:
A Group of Loyal Readers/Reiders. A Cult
like following of The Murder Queen.
Every author thinks they have the best readers, but honestly you guys take the cake — can we make it a cheesecake, because I love cheesecake.
I never imagined this could be my life, writing down these stories in my head — yeah this crazy is pretty much in my head all the time, scary place right? Having people read them. Having people like them? Psh as if.
Having people love them enough to follow all this crazy? Yeah that wasn’t even a dream because I didn’t realize I could pull that off. Yet here you guys are.
Reiders. Reapers. Cult Reid.
Truly I have the best readers.
Join The Graveyard, where the Reapers like to play and the shallow graves are free.
About the Author
Bo Reid is addicted to coffee, swearing, sarcasm, and true crime. She loves hiking, traveling, books, and pit bulls. A mom to one sarcastic little boy. She lives in the mountains of California and is always looking for her next adventure.
