Chapter 10 #2
I repeat the words until they lose all meaning, because all I can see is the hatred in his eyes as he tore at my clothes.
Hot tears spill down my cheeks. It’s been months since I’ve cried like this, when the memory of that night was too much to bear, and I hate that. I hate giving him that kind of power over me. He’s nothing.
I wipe furiously at my face, angry with myself for letting him take another piece of me, but the tears only fall faster until a sob tears free.
“Why are you crying?”
I gasp at the sudden deep rasp behind me, because there’s no way he’s here. No way the one man I shouldn’t want is somehow the only person who makes it possible to breathe again.
I weave in his direction, needing to know whether I imagined him, but he’s standing right in front of me. His tousled hair falls over his forehead, the low light accenting every hard line of his face while his eyes remain fixed on me.
He steps closer, gaze dark and intense, before lifting my chin with the back of his hand. “I asked you a question, Thora. Why are you crying?”
ANTON
“It’s nothing.” She fakes a smile that anyone would see through.
Does she think I’m an idiot?
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
She has no idea I watched the entire thing, saw that ublyudok put his paws on her and came dangerously close to ripping them off. But I waited, wanting to see how much of herself she would give him. Not that it should matter to me.
Did he hurt her? Did I miss something?
I study her from head to toe, searching for any sign that he touched her in a way he’ll regret, but I find no visible injuries. She folds her arms around herself and lowers her eyes, mistaking my inspection for something else.
“Thora.” I catch her chin between two fingers and tip her face toward mine. “What happened?”
“You care?” Disbelief sharpens the question.
My jaw sets, because I don’t know the answer.
Do I? Is that what this is?
I don’t want to examine it too closely. That’s not why I followed her out here. I just…solve problems. Bloody or otherwise. That’s all this is.
So what if I might have to kill her one day? That doesn’t mean I can’t help her before I do.
When I don’t answer, she lets out a huff and more tears gather, her chin trembling.
Blyat. Not the chin.
She blows out a breath, blinking through whatever pain she’s trying to keep buried. “I overreacted. I was dancing with this guy and he called me pretty, and it triggered me because…”
More tears come, and it’s slowly killing me. Maybe it would be better if she did kill me. Because this is worse.
“Because what?”
She grabs my forearm, and I feel it shooting through my whole body.
The more I peer at her, the more I can see how badly she wants to confide in me, tell me whatever is bothering her. I’m probably the worst person for that, but I’m all she has right now.
Poor thing.
“Something happened to me a year ago, and I just…can’t seem to move past it.”
My pulse kicks. “Where is he?”
Because of course it was a man.
Her mouth quirks. “Why? Are you gonna kill him?”
“Yes.”
She searches my face for any sign that I’m joking, but I give her none. Her fingers leave my arm and rise to my cheek, tracing my skin with such care, it’s as though she’s trying to understand me through touch alone.
My body goes tense, but I don’t pull away. I forget I’m supposed to hate this and let myself feel it instead.
As soon as my eyes start to close, I snap out of it, grabbing her wrist. “What are you doing?”
“I have no idea.”
Her focus drops to my lips, and mine follows to hers as the space between us shrinks until the only thing I can think about is what it would feel like to kiss her.
I remove her hand from my face and step back. But with her body still so close, the distance does nothing.
“Are you going to give me his name, or do I have to find out on my own?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. My family took care of it.”
Good. Now hop on your bike and leave. You’re not her hero. Blyat, you’re not anyone’s hero.
Still, my arms remain at my sides while unshed tears brighten her eyes. Her shoulders sink, and the way she looks at me tells me she’s waiting for comfort I don’t know how to give.
I’ve dealt with brutality, with things that should have broken me years ago, and none of it has ever been as hard as this is. It’s the most uncomfortable I’ve ever felt.
I don’t know what she wants from me. If there’s something I should be doing or saying.
“Is there something wrong with me?” she asks.
I almost wonder if I misheard. What the hell could be wrong with her? She’s close to perfect.
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” More tears gather in her eyes as she fights to keep herself from falling apart in front of me.
So I do something I know I’m going to regret: I hold her.
She sags against me, and I wrap myself around her with an uncertainty I don’t know how to hide. At first, I barely have my arms around her, but the more she presses into my body, the more natural it begins to feel.
“Is this okay?”
She nods against my chest. “It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say, though the corner of my mouth betrays me with a tug.
Her laughter warms my chest. “You’re funny.”
“And you’re annoying.”
She leans back far enough to catch my gaze, her eyes still wet as she searches my face. “I think you’re lying.”
I might be.
My arm rises, fingers catching her jaw, thumb brushing across her bottom lip. The second I touch her like that, I feel it again, stronger this time: that pull that’s been building since the second I saw her.
She stares up, watching, waiting…
And the longer she does, the harder it becomes to pretend I don’t want this.
But I can’t. I won’t.
I’ve never kissed a woman, and I’m not about to start now. Not with her. Not when I want it this badly. Because nothing good comes from wanting something you’re not supposed to have.
We stay like that, and this unfamiliar sensation fills me. Something dangerously close to contentment, as though this is where I’m meant to be.
Her hand hovers before she cups my cheek. “Thank you…friend. I needed that.”
That simple touch sends a current through my body.
I stay quiet, and she keeps staring at me before she says, “If you ever need me, I’ll be there too.”
I scoff. “What would I need from you?”
“You never know. I might surprise you.”
You already have.
When she starts to pull away, my arm tightens around her back. A faint crease forms between her brows, and her lips part like she’s about to say something.
“What is it?” I ask.
“How do you always manage to show up wherever I am?”
“Because I’m stalking you.”
She laughs, clearly not believing me. “Well, I hope it’s been worth your while.”
I tug her in and tip up her chin, keeping her face inches from mine.
“Trust me…” My attention catches on her mouth, temptation pulling hard before I lift my gaze back to her face. “It has.”