Chapter 8
Daphne
There's a churning discomfort settling deep in my gut, like a snake slithering around, warning me that something's amiss.
I'm not able to focus on my conversation with Aaron that ended so abruptly. As I march inside, I can feel his gaze on my back, a searing sensation that makes the discomfort grow from slithering to writhing.
I'm also burning with anger. My face is hot, skin heated with rage. I really want to turn around that give that Alex a piece of my mind but I don't.
I don't know why, but he fills me with unease. Every second spent under his heated stare, every word that came out of that beautiful mouth when he told me how desperate I looked. His rapt attention leaves me on shaky ground.
And I don't even know why.
My footsteps quicken as I pick up the pace. The door to the back alley shuts behind me and I know he's there somewhere. I feel his presence like the chill settling on my skin.
My heart rate spikes as I panic for a second, like I'm being chased or followed and I hit into someone crossing my path, making me stumble back.
Warm hands grip my shoulders firmly, and I inhale the scent of him - a woodsy, sweet musk that has me inhaling deeply.
"You should watch where you're going." His deep voice is a sweet caress, sending goosebumps down the side of my neck. I feel his breath on my skin, so close, almost like his lips could graze my ear if I only moved a little.
I jump out of his touch like a startled rabbit and turn around to face him. Even in the darkness he's beautiful, his face half hidden, half accentuated by the shadows.
A memory hits me just then, like a bolt of lightning, snapping my spine straight. The man from the shadows, the man who stole my first kiss.
It can't be.
"Get your hands off me," I snap, but my knees are shaking so badly, I hope he doesn't notice.
The small smirk on his face tells me he does.
He lifts his hands, holding them up in surrender. "Don't flatter yourself, darling. I was merely being a gentleman."
I snort and walk away from him. Gentleman, my ass. Where were his manners when he was listening in on me and then calling me desperate?
My anger flares again, reminding me of the way Aaron told me to stay put till he got back from some emergency he never cared to share about. He didn't even ask if I was doing okay or if I got home safe that night.
Is this Alex asshole, right? Am I really acting desperate?
I shake my head as I head over to the girls by the row of dart boards lining the wall. They've occupied a table and Alex's blonde companion is with them. Great, now I have to tolerate this guy all night?
I squeeze between the girls, snaking through easily because I'm the smallest, putting as much distance as I can between myself and Alex.
Stacey starts to fawn over him the moment he joins us so I expect him to forget all about me and our little exchange. That's what happens to most guys when Stacey's around.
With her heels, she's close to his height and for a begrudging second I realise what a beautiful pair they make.
I expect Alex to be taken up by her, for his hand to reach hers as she pats his arm and bats her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. But instead, his eyes are on me, gaze narrowed like he's assessing me for some reason.
I swing around, trying to get my wits about me. I'm not used to this kind of unyielding attention, especially not from someone who looks like him.
"Hah, told you I would win!" Elizabeth shouts excitedly over the music, skipping over to us. Danielle rolls her eyes and by passes me to get a drink, leaving me exposed. I don't even know why I'm hiding.
I turn around to pour myself a drink, feeling a little ridiculous.
"Hello, Daphne. Nice to meet you." I notice the subtle hint of a Russian accent in the blonde man's voice as he approaches me.
"Hello, Yo..." I trail off. I'd completely forgotten his name because Alex has been so distracting.
He chuckles and I notice he has a sweet face and kind eyes. His skin is fair, much fairer than Alex's - who has a slight tan - and his blonde eyebrows and hair almost look white under the dim lights.
"It's Yonah."
He smiles widely and keeps a good distance between us. For some reason, I get safe vibes from him and relax a little. I take a small sip of my drink after he clinks his glass against mine.
"So what brings you both to Daltech? We don't get many New Yorkers here despite the city being nearby."
"Ahh," Yonah exclaims and the Russian accent is even more obvious before he switches completely. "Our father's were transferred here."
He gestures to Alex who is currently listening to Stacey's chatter but I notice he glances over ever so often. What's his deal? Why is he so interested?
I frown, taking another sip even though I don't really like the taste of alcohol. Thankfully, this drink is mostly coke because I hardly put in any whiskey.
"Both your fathers?" I raise my eyebrows at Yonah and he doesn't even blink before nodding.
"What a coincidence," I mutter.
"Have you been to New York?" Yonah asks lightheartedly and the Russian accent is gone making me wonder if I imagined it. My mind must be playing tricks on me because I've not been able to think straight ever since the night of the murder.
I shake my head. "No, but I'd love to."
"You could come visit. We can take you around. I know all the best places, especially the food. There's this kebab joint that's just...the absolute best!"
"Umm, okay. Maybe sometime in the future." Or never. I don't even know these people.
"Have you ever played darts?" I ask him and walk over to pick up a dart from the table. The scent of sweet musk invades my nostrils and I immediately go rigid.
"No, we haven't. Would you be a dear and show us how it's done?" Alex leans against the table, his arms splayed on either side of him, white shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing thick, tanned forearms rippling with veins.
His shirt is tucked into his pants and his dress pants are fitted, revealing large, defined muscular thighs. Is there even an ounce of fat on this person? He seems unrealistic.
"It doesn't take a genius to figure this out." I lift my arm and hold the dart behind my ear. "Just throw it at the board."
I fling it forward and it hits the board only to fall back to the floor like a traitor. I hear his chuckle and pick up another one angrily before throwing it at the board. It hits the centre perfectly - an inner bullseye.
I almost sigh in relief, I don't think I could have lived that one down.
He walks up to me and I try to ignore the way my heart beats harder and faster as he nears me.
"Hmm. I suppose you're right." His voice is low, unhurried. Even through the music, I catch the hum beneath his words as he drags them out - slow, taunting. It licks down my back, sending a shiver rippling through me.
He steps behind me deliberately, his large frame enveloping me and I'm about to move but he reaches over me to grab a dart - his body brushing mine, making me go rigid.
He lifts it slowly, deliberately and I can't focus on anything - not the music, the chatter around us or the fact that my friends might be watching. All I can think of is how his scent is so utterly addictive and how I don't actually want to move away.
"Like this?" He whispers in my ear and his breath caresses my skin. I swallow hard, resisting a shudder.
He doesn't move away, doesn't give me enough space to breathe or gather my senses. He throws the dart with barely any movement, and it hits the center so fast I never even see it leave his hand.
It lands right in the centre, knocking my dart out of the way as it lodges itself in the inner bullseye. Finally, he steps back and I turn around to face him in disbelief.
He smiles, revealing perfectly straight white teeth and winks at me. "Easy."
I frown, wondering if he was lying about not knowing how to play. No one throws their first throw that well.
A sudden crash echoes from the front of the bar, and we all turn. A group of rowdy bikers have stood, glaring at one another. Someone shines a flashlight in their direction, and broken glass glints across the floor.
A tall, huge man with a long beard and leather jacket with cut off sleeves growls in the direction of the light. He turns around abruptly. "Who the hell is recording?"
And suddenly chaos ensues as a brawl erupts right there and then by the entrance, trapping us inside.
I cover myself as the sound of glass shattering and punches and kicks are thrown around, scared out of my wits. The sudden crack of something loud sends me back to the night of the murder.
I didn't hear the sound but I imagine the bullet splitting the man's face into pieces and suddenly I'm frozen, trapped in a nightmare, unable to move.
An ear-splitting scream snaps me back to reality as the fight surges toward us. And then a broad back fills my vision