Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

“—is a liar, a career criminal, and a murderer. He kills
people, Nat. For a living. That’s his job. That’s what they call
him: Reaper. You know, as in the grim reaper? As in the
skeleton in the cloak with the scythe who comes to get your
soul?”
Reaper.
My boyfriend is named after a mythical personification of
death?
A mental image of Kage with glowing red eyes peering out
from under the hood of a black cloak gives me chills.
Trying to keep my voice even, I say, “None of that has
anything to do with me. Now it’s time to say good night and
for you to leave. Mojo!”
I whistle for him. He trots up, ignoring Chris, and heads
back inside, going into the house through the open door behind
me.
Christ takes another step forward. I take a step back. The
anger in his gaze makes my heartbeat tick up a notch and my
eyes widen.
Then I get a whiff of the alcohol on his breath, and my
pulse ticks up higher.
Alarmed, I say, “You’ve been drinking.”
“So have you. Your cheeks always flush after a few glasses
of wine.”
It’s true. I’m prone to flushing. I’m also prone to
conspiracy theories and worst-case-scenario thinking,
impressively demonstrated by my brain, which is howling that
Chris is about to kill me.
He says, “You know how I knew you were sleeping with
him? You do this thing when you’re not telling the truth. You
glance up and to the right. Just for a second. When I asked you
if you were fucking him, that’s what you did.”
That he noticed such a minor tic about me frightens me
deeply.