Ex boyfriend
Chapter 10
Drogen stiffened at first, clearly unused to such gestures. But as Natasha sobbed into his chest, he hesitated before his arms slowly wrapped around her.
"You're safe now," he murmured, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it.
Suddenly, Natasha pulled away, her tear-streaked face twisting with anger.
"Why did you take so long?" she demanded.
"And why did you confront him? What were you thinking?" Drogen shot back, his tone sharp.
"I... I didn't have any other options! Besides, I trusted you would come save me... it's your fault for not coming on time," she accused, pushing him away.
"So this is your thank you, huh?" he asked, frowning.
She turned her back to him, crossing her arms and faking anger.
"I think I need to teach you how to be grateful," he said, his voice dropping an octave.
"And how exactly do you want me to be grateful? Kiss you?" she retorted, spinning around to glare at him.
The moment the words left her mouth, Drogen pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. His tongue invaded her mouth with surprising fervor, sucking on her lips and tongue, leaving her barely able to catch her breath. Natasha froze, her mind blank, unsure how to respond.
When she finally regained her senses, she pushed him away with all her strength. Drogen stepped back, a mocking grin on his face as he studied her flustered expression.
She slapped him hard across the face. He barely flinched, the grin still lingering.
"What was that for, you bastard?" she snarled.
"You just looked extremely attractive today, that's all," he replied nonchalantly.
"Jerk!"
"You were the one who proposed a kiss. Take it as your payment for me saving you," he teased with a smirk.
"Oh, so I should use my body to repay you now? Is that it?" she shot back, her tone laced with sarcasm.
"Doesn't sound like a bad idea," he replied with a smirk that only infuriated her more.
"Why do you suddenly feel like a different person? Just yesterday, you treated me so coldly. Now you're here acting like you're interested in me," she questioned, her eyes narrowing.
"I never said I wasn't interested," he replied smoothly.
"You said I wasn't your type!" she reminded him, exasperated.
"Not my type doesn't mean I'm not interested," he corrected, his teasing tone lighting a fire of both anger and something else she couldn't quite define within her.
Was this man intentionally taunting her, or what?
She crossed her arms and glared at him, trying to look angry, but her lips still tingled from the kiss. Her heart raced, and she could feel warmth spreading through her chest. She wanted to lean in, to kiss him again, to feel his lips on hers one more time, but she stayed rooted in place. Lifting her chin, she held onto her pride, refusing to let him see how much he had shaken her.
"So, are you saying you like me?" she asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I like your body," he corrected without hesitation.
"Shameless jerk," she muttered, and he chuckled coldly. She almost forgot the fact that he wasn't supposed to feel love or any emotions at all.
"Wait a minute... I heard you say Drake let me go. Who's Drake?" she asked, eager to shift the focus and relieve the tension in the air.
"Drake is the Underworld Judge. He decided to let you go, but on one condition," Drogen explained.
"And what's that?"
"After your death, you're to work as a grim reaper," he replied bluntly.
"What? You mean humans can work as grim reapers after death?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and disbelief.
"All grim reapers were once human," he said simply.
"Oh. Now that you mention it, I remember that bulky friend of yours saying he died centuries ago," she said, recalling Bruce's comment from before.
"You mean Bruce? He died around 400 years ago. I was the one who collected his soul," Drogen revealed.
"So, he also committed a grievous sin? What did he do?"
"I told you, Princess, there are some things better left hidden," he said, his voice carrying a faint warning.
"That Bruce friend of yours doesn't seem to like me much."
"You can't blame him. He just doesn't like women in general."
"Is he gay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Her question made Drogen laugh—a rare and disarming sound.
"Don't let him hear you say that. He'd be livid," he said, still chuckling.
Natasha couldn't help but admire him as he laughed. In that moment, he seemed like a completely different person, so unlike the cold and distant Drogen she'd first met. Her stomach fluttered as she watched him.
Just then, Gracie's voice broke her trance.
"Natasha, are you in there?"
She'd completely forgotten about her friend.
"I think I need to get back. My friend's looking for me," she said quickly, heading for the exit. But before she could leave, Drogen grabbed her from behind, holding her tightly. She felt something hard poke her backside, and her face turned crimson as she realized what it was.
"I'll wait for you at home," he whispered huskily into her ear before vanishing like smoke.
The door to the storage room burst open, and Gracie barged in to find Natasha standing there, looking dazed and flushed.
"I've been looking for you! Someone said they saw you walk into the storage room. What are you doing here alone?" Gracie asked, her tone suspicious.
"Gracie, is it normal for just a bear hug to make someone... aroused?" Natasha blurted out before she could stop herself.
"Wait, were you making out with someone in here? Who is he? Where is he?" Gracie asked, her eyes darting around the room.
"Making out? You've got a wild imagination," Natasha replied, chuckling nervously.
"Then why is your face flushed and your lipstick smudged?" Gracie asked with a sly grin.
"My lipstick?" Natasha panicked, hurriedly wiping her mouth.
"See? I knew it! You were making out with someone!" Gracie exclaimed triumphantly.
"Fine, you got me. He just kissed me," Natasha admitted reluctantly.
"And who's he?"
"Someone I met yesterday," Natasha replied evasively.
"Who? Do I know him? Is he a celebrity?" Gracie pressed, her excitement growing.
"Enough with the questions, Miss Detective. Let's get back to work," Natasha said, quickly walking out of the storage room.
As they exited, Natasha bumped into someone.
"I'm sorry," she apologized without looking up and started to walk away, but the person called her name.
"Natasha, is that you?"
She turned back, confused. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"
"It's me, Johnson, from high school. Don't you remember?"
Her heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned. Standing before her was her high school ex-boyfriend.