Reaping Me Softly

might see or experience some unexplainable things here. It’s technically a different dimension inside. I think you’ll be fine. But—” he kissed her forehead “—if you feel dizzy or lightheaded or anything weird, tell me.”

She nodded.

“Promise me,” he insisted as the doors opened.

“I promise,” she whispered.

They entered a hallway that the elevator funneled into. At the end stood a young boy and girl. They held hands, looking like porcelain dolls in lace and ruffles—black on black, which stood out from their ivory skin and emerald eyes. Niko felt Arianne hesitate.

“Ari, meet Rome and Paris.” He indicated the boy first then the girl with a sweep of his other hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Arianne held out a hand for a shake, but both kids bowed instead. She glanced at Niko.

“It’s better if you don’t touch them,” he assured.

“Master, we…” Rome began.

“…weren’t expecting you,” Paris finished.

“Is something the matter?” Niko squatted so he was at eye level with them.

“We were planning…” Paris started.

“…to clean the house,” Rome completed.

Letting go of Arianne, Niko rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “You don’t have to stop that task on our account. We’ll be in the kitchen and then the garden. Please let the Caretaker know we are not to be disturbed. Would that be all right?”

“Yes,” they said in unison. They turned around and skipped away, swaying their clasped hands.

“Master?” Arianne cocked an eyebrow at him as he straightened.

He reunited with her hand, suppressing a grin. “They’re my minions. Well, two of them, anyway. There are a few more running around somewhere in the house.”

“Uh!” She smacked his arm.

“What?”

“That was so insensitive!”

“Ari, they really are called minions. They’re not human even if they look like it. I created them to assist me with my duties.” Niko twirled Arianne around until they touched hip to hip, his hands on either side of her waist.

She put her hands on his chest, an annoyed pout still on her lips. “You created them?”

“Yes. They are a part of me, taking energy from me.”

“You let those children starve!” She smacked him again.

His confusion must have risen to the surface because Arianne quickly reminded him of his Fade.

“Ari, I won’t let that happen again.” He fell into her eyes. “They’re fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Now that you’re here.”

Once in the kitchen—which had high ceilings and granite counter tops and could handle cooking for up to two hundred guests and some to spare—Niko opened one of the fridge doors and assessed its contents. Arianne had taken a seat on a bar stool by the center island. She sipped on a glass of sweet raspberry iced tea and stared at the copper-bottom pots hanging above her.

“Are we ordering in?” she asked like she’d been there all her life.

Images flashed in his mind of waking up to see her in bed beside him, her face soft from slumber, sunlight playing in her hair. To be the first person she saw when she woke up. To have those eyes gazing upon him. To have her deem him worthy of her smile and kiss. He had to pause, relishing the feeling of having her in his domain. Of how right everything seemed.

“What are you in the mood for?” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Pizza?”

He reached into the fridge and freed a block of mozzarella, precut pepperoni, bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, and basil from their cold shackles. He balanced them all in his arms and used his heel to shut the door. “Why don’t I make you some? We have a stone oven out in the veranda. It’s a beautiful day for some home-cooked pizza. What do you say?”

With each sentence Niko spoke, Arianne’s eyes grew wider and wider. “You can cook?”

“Comes with living many lives.” He pulled a bag of flour, a can of yeast, a jug of warm water, and a jar of salt from the middle of the granite island and placed them on the counter in front of him.

While he mixed the ingredients to make the dough, Arianne said, “Do you have to be more perfect than you already are?”

“Oh, trust me—” half a smile tugged at one side of his face “—I’m far from perfect. I’m probably more flawed than people think. But I do make a mean pizza.”

“And humble too!”

He flicked some flour her way and she squealed. “What toppings do you want?”

She hopped off the stool and studied the assemblage before them. “I definitely want the pepperoni, mozzarella, and mushrooms. What else do you have?” She strode to the fridge with purpose and opened the door like she’d done it countless times before. Niko thought it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She liberated a few more items and dumped them on the island. “You didn’t tell me you have almost every kind of cheese imaginable in there.” Her grin looked positively cheeky when she bumped her hip against his. “Let’s make it a five-cheese, pepperoni and mushroom pizza.”

“Aren’t you worried about the calories?” He raked his gaze over her.

“Jerk!”

He pulled her into the circle of his arms and took her hands. He proceeded to show her the proper technique of kneading. She rested against him and spread her fingers apart so his could easily guide her hands through the motions of properly tightening and relaxing her grip on the dough. He thought his knees would give out on him.

“I always like active participation when cooking,” she whispered, tilting her head up so she could face him without turning all the way around in his arms. An invitation sparkled in her eyes.

Niko couldn’t resist the temptation. Forget delayed gratification! He bent down and took her offered lips.

On the veranda, Niko checked on the pizza while Arianne set the table. She grabbed the cut-glass vase filled with orange carnations from the kitchen and placed it at the center of the table, adding a bowl of lemons as an accent. Next, she set out the plates, glasses, knives and forks, and the pitcher of iced tea. Napkins over the plates were her final touch. Niko watched her intently, loving how natural and at ease she seemed in his environment. He almost didn’t want to take her home at the end of the day. He wanted to keep her with him for as long as she’d let him.

“I think the pizza’s done,” she said, breaking the spell she’d cast over him.

Niko fumbled with the wooden paddle, which gifted him with a giggle from her. But he regained his poise by twirling the pizza cutter in his hand and slicing the cheesy pizza into eight symmetrically triangular slices. He slid the pie onto the waiting platter and carried it to their table. Large clouds gave them enough cover that they didn’t need an umbrella.

“The table’s beautiful, Ari.” He pulled out her chair for her and she sat down with a proud smile. “Where did you learn to be so creative?”

“Carrie and I played house all the time. And Mom taught me a thing or two.” She poured the both of them some tea, ice dancing in their glasses.

Niko served her. The strings of cheese kept the slice tethered to the pie like a dirigible. But with a flick of his wrist, he placed the perfect triangle on her plate. He served himself before sitting down across from her.

Arianne took a bite of the pizza and hummed. She licked her fingers with audible smacks. “Yup, a mean pizza. What?”

“Pardon?” Niko bit into his slice.

“Do I have something on my face? You were staring.” She gulped down her tea with relish.