16. Ava
AVA
I bit my lower lip to fight back the prickle of tears in my eyes as pebbles burrowed into my knees and palms. My torn skin, hot with fresh blood, stung terribly.
A tiny sob escaped as I tried to push myself up, thin arms shaking, only to collapse back down.
A pair of strong hands caught me.
“Leave her alone.”
My bully, his face silhouetted against the sun behind his head, laughed, a cruel bitter sound.
But his retreating footsteps told me he wouldn’t hurt me anymore.
At least not today.
He gently pulled me to him, lifting me into his arms like a babe, his arctic blue eyes furrowed in concern. “I got you.”
A tear slipped from my lower lashes as I rested my head against his chest.
I was safe now.
He was here .
The gravel crunched beneath his steady footsteps as he carried me in his arms.
At the school nurse’s station, he sat me down on the small cot covered with a thin paper sheet.
The nurse had silver hair pulled into a tight bun and sharp eyes that seemed to notice everything despite her soft, unassuming demeanor.
She looked between my ripped and bloodied stockings and his quiet but intense gaze on me.
“Ava was playing tag and tripped,” he said, never looking away from me. “It was an accident.”
The nurse looked him over from head to toe.
He was tall for sixteen. With already broad shoulders and strong jaw, he looked like a man, not a boy.
But it was his eyes more than anything that made him seem older. They were eerily steady, assured, unwavering.
The nurse shifted in her white orthopedic sneakers. “Is that true, Ava?”
“Yes,” I said although my voice sounded hollow.
The nurse let out a noise of frustration and turned to him. “Could you leave us for a—”
“I’m not leaving her.”
I chimed in, “I don’t want him to leave.”
“Ava,” the nurse turned to me with a pleading look, “if someone—”
“She’s bleeding,” he snapped. “Stop interrogating her and start helping her.”
She hesitated a moment longer and then with a huff retrieved the appropriate materials from the drawers, moving with a quiet efficiency: tweezers, antiseptic, ointment, and bandages.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up,” she said as she approached .
He stopped her with a hand. “I’ll do it.”
She laughed but it sounded uncomfortable. “I’m the nurse.”
She reached out toward my knee but he grasped her wrist. “Only I get to touch her.”
The air stopped moving. I didn’t dare to breathe.
It was strictly forbidden to use violence against the teachers and staff at the school. He was risking immediate expulsion.
The nurse held her body tense, as if she was waiting for his approval before daring to breathe.
She glanced toward the door that led out to the hallway. Would she cry out for help? Something in her wide eyes told me she feared what he would do if she tried.
I stared at him, forgetting the sting in my knees and elbows, and looked at him the way she must see him.
He towered over the petite nurse, the top of her head barely coming up to his shoulder.
His muscled shoulders remained relaxed and confident, exuding unarguable authority, the weight of his gaze seemingly enough to silence her dissent.
She opened her hand and offered the materials to him.
“Thank you,” he said as he released her.
The nurse fled the room with one last frightened look for me over her shoulder.
“You didn’t have to scare her,” I said.
He shrugged. “Not my fault if she was scared.”
He dropped the medical materials onto a rolling trolley and pulled it beside me.
Then he slowly spread apart my legs and stepped between them.
A strange shudder went through my body, starting at my head and going all the way down to my toes that curled in my patent leather shoes.
His fingertips were warm as they brushed against my skin, sending a rush of warmth through my belly as he pushed up my pleated uniform skirt.
His hair fell across his face, our mouths so close that I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks.
He whispered, “I will always protect you.”
Something tightened in my belly.
I… I shouldn’t be feeling things like this for him. It was wrong.
“This will hurt,” he said as he dabbed the antiseptic onto a cotton pad.
But as he applied it to my scratched knee, I didn’t feel it at all.
I only felt his other hand resting flat and firmly against my inner thigh.
His thumb made small, reassuring circles and when he grazed the scalloped lace edge of my panties, a hot ache went through me.
I sucked in a gasp as I slammed back into my body.
“Ava?”
I was in my kitchen, still being held by my stalker. I stared up at him, my mouth parted as I struggled to breathe.
It was him in my memory.
My shadow. My Scáth.
His face had been younger, cheeks plump, shorter hair, and no visible tattoos yet. But he had the same piercing blue eyes. And the same feeling of safety swirled in me as he held me now.
I knew my stalker.
“Y-you,” I blurted out.
His eyebrows furrowed.
Right. Cormac was still here. And he was probably staring at me staring at Scáth like I’d only just recognized who he was.
“You…” I backpedaled, forcing my features into one of affection, pretending that he was my boyfriend. “I missed… you.”
Scáth’s stern features melted into… a smile.
Dear God. The sight was glorious.
His plump lips stretched wide over a row of white teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the furrow that seemed permanently etched into his forehead smoothed out.
The arm he’d had around my shoulders dropped to my waist. He pulled me closer, pressing me right up against his firm chest.
I gasped at the full-body contact, as my entire being erupted into fiery heat and need. That trickle of moisture into my panties became a waterfall.
“Missed you, too.”
His lips closed over mine.
The moment his lips touched mine, the world seemed to slow.
I froze.
He’d fingered me, fucked me, made me come several times, but this was the first time he’d kissed me.
His lips were steady, softer than I imagined they’d be while still being firm. He wasn’t rushed or desperate, but soft, deliberate—like he was exploring a secret we’d both been guarding.
His hand cupped the side of my face, fingers gentle but firm, grounding me, and yet I felt like I was floating.
He parted his mouth and swept his tongue across my lips, begging for entrance .
My breath hitched, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.
I opened my mouth and let him in.
And suddenly I wasn’t pretending anymore.
I melted against him as he kissed me long and deep, our tongues warring. I found my fingers curling into his hair, delighting in how soft it was.
My heart pounded in my chest, but I wasn’t scared. I was alive. And for the first time, I let myself fall into it, into him, trusting that this was real.
I barely heard Cormac making disgusted noises.
Right. My ex was still here.
And I was making out with my stalker in front of him.
My stalker slowly pulled away from me, leaving a playful nip at my bottom lip before he fully broke away.
I felt the loss of him instantly.
He turned me to place himself in front of me as Cormac stomped past.
I stared at his profile, urging my mind to loosen more memories of him.
He caught me looking and lowered his mouth to my ear, shivers running down my spine as he whispered, “Scáth, huh?”
I whispered back, knowing it must look like we were whispering sweet nothings to Cormac. “I thought about going with Asshole. Or Psycho but I didn’t think Cormac would buy it.”
He hummed like those nicknames were a serious consideration.
“If you want to tell me your name,” I pushed, “I can call you that instead?”
He chuckled, low and gravelly. “I like Scáth. ”
Cormac paused in the hallway and turned back to glare at us, pointing his finger at me. “This isn’t over, Ava.”
“Oh, it’s over for you.” Scáth nuzzled my neck even as he replied to my ex in a tone that promised violence. “It’s only beginning for me.”
Cormac scowled and stormed off, his footsteps echoing through the hallway and out to the foyer.
Only when the front door slammed shut and we were alone, did I push Scáth off me.
He let go of me, but he was an unmoving stone statue.
I only managed to push myself back off him, wincing as I stepped on a few scattered coffee beans with my bare feet.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
He stiffened, glaring at me as he raised the knife still in his hand and pressed the flat side of the tip on his lips like he was shushing me.
I’d almost forgotten he still held that knife.
Even as he was kissing me.
A hot shudder ran through me at the memory of the other ways he could handle a knife.
He lowered the knife to his side and walked silently across the kitchen.
How did he walk so silently? Like a damn ninja.
He ducked his head out into the hallway as if to check that Cormac really was gone and we were really alone.
He whirled on me, striding toward me, throwing my knife still in his hand to the sink with a clatter. “A ‘thank you saving me from my asshole ex’ would be nice.”
I bristled even as I backed up. “Just because you don’t want anyone else muscling in on your plaything doesn’t mean I have to be grateful for it. ”
I slammed into the cold counter ledge.
He placed his hands on either side of me, crowding me, caging me in.
I had nowhere else to go. Gulp.
His features hardened as he lowered his face inches from mine. “I wasn’t lying, Ava. No one touches you but me.”
The deadly ferocity of his tone, the raw intensity at which he glared at me, the searing heat rolling off his muscular body and into every single one of my cells… it was all too much.
My mind short-circuited.
My body erupted into need and want, my nipples hardened into painful points, my pussy aching for him to dominate it.
Stupid brain.
Even stupider body.
I needed space.
I pushed his arm and to my surprise, he let me slide out from the counter. I stumbled back away from him.
With some space between us, I could finally breathe.
I could think again.
Sort of.
He still looked devastatingly sexy as he leaned his elbows against the counter where I’d been standing and watched me as I put some space between us.
Despite him not touching me anymore, I still felt captured by his stare.
I wanted to ask him his name, beg him for more details of our childhood together.
God, I wanted so many things from him that I barely knew where to start .
But right now, that wasn’t the most important thing.
I snatched my knife out of the sink and held out the point at him, trying to look as threatening as possible. I had scared Cormac. I could scare him. Right?
I demanded, “I want my adoption records back.”
He straightened and faced me head-on. “No.”
“Why not?” I jabbed the tip of my knife against his firm chest, not enough to pierce him, just enough to make him know I meant business. “What’s in my adoption records that you don’t want me finding out?”
He scowled.
In a flash, his hands lashed out. I don’t know how he fucking did it, but he disarmed me, my knife clattering harmlessly to the floor.
I sucked in a breath, blinking mutely, still trying to recover from what just happened.
He pushed me up against the wall, crowding me in again. “Leave it alone. Leave Liath alone. You can’t do anything for her.”
My heart almost stopped. So he did have something to do with Liath.
Oh God. He basically admitted he killed Liath.
“Y-you killed her?” Grief welled up in me.
I’d been too late. I couldn’t save her.
No, this wasn’t my fault. I didn’t kill her.
He did.
Fury overtook my senses and I slammed my fists against his chest. Not that it seemed to affect him at all.
“Why, you fucking asshole?” I screamed. “Why? What did she ever do to you?”
He grabbed my wrists, holding them firmly against his chest to stop me from hitting him. “You think I had something to do with Liath’s disappearance?”
I choked on a sob, glaring at him through tears. “You’re saying you didn’t?”
He held my gaze, as if willing me to believe him. “That’s what I’m saying.”
I studied him, trying to look behind the brutal mask he usually wore. But it didn’t seem like he was wearing one right now.
He looked sincere. Sounded sincere.
Or was that my stupid heart wanting him to be innocent because it liked him?
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you trying to stop me from investigating if you didn’t?”
He clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. “You’re playing with fire, Ava. If you’re too stupid to see that, then someone has to save you from yourself.”
“ Stupid ?” I spluttered.
“Yeah. Stupid.” His brows pulled together in irritation, lips twisting into a frown. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From who ?” I said, my voice rising.
“From whoever took your friend,” he said, his voice growing louder to match mine.
I shot him a dark look, my mouth set in a hard line. “I’m not going to abandon someone I love just because it is a little dangerous.”
His lips parted on a breath. “Let it go, Ava. Please. It’s too late to help her.”
“I can’t.”
God, help me. I tried to let it go. I knew how much danger I was putting myself into but …
“I need to know,” I said, willing him to understand. “I need to remember.”
He leaned in closer, so our faces were barely an inch apart. “There are things you don’t want to remember.”
I could feel his warm breath against my mouth as we breathed in the same breath.
I licked my lips. “I remember you … parts of you. Why don’t I remember any more?”
His voice was hollow when he replied, “Some things are too painful to remember.”
A slow, insidious chill started at the base of my spine and worked its way up, vertebra by vertebra.
My past was a black hole because there was a part of me that didn’t want to remember. This realization was like a whisper of cold air slipping under my skin, threading through my nerves.
I steeled myself and forced myself to ask, “Why, what happened?”
He stared back for the longest moment. I could almost see his mind chewing over how much he would reveal to me.
Finally, he spoke, his words measured. “What do you remember?”
“I remember you protecting me,” I said.
For some reason I started leaning toward him.
He leaned in too, as this connection—that neither of us seemed to be able to fight—drew us closer.
“I remember,” I continued, “you were my best friend.”
He froze.
I brushed my lips against his. “Why won’t you tell me your name? ”
I thought he was going to kiss me again.
“Y-you…” he whispered against my mouth, “you don’t know anything.”
He shoved off me so fast I was left reeling.
I barely blinked before he’d disappeared out into the hallway and I heard the front door open, then close again.
No. He wasn’t getting away this fucking easily.
I raced after him, following him out the front door.
But he didn’t go out the front and past the security box.
He wasn’t walking down the driveway at all.
He couldn’t have disappeared that quickly.
I scanned the grounds and spotted him slipping out a long forgotten side gate, almost entirely covered in ivy.
I made a mental note to get the locks on that gate changed.
I raced up to the gate, frowning as I pushed aside the thick green leaves and peered through the ivy.
His dark figure cut across my neighbor’s lawn with long firm strides.
I expected him to slip out my neighbor’s driveway and into a waiting car. I readied myself to remember a license plate number.
But to my surprise, he walked right up to the front door of my neighbor’s white Greco-Roman mansion.
Then he opened the door.
He walked into the house like he fucking owned it.
I could barely believe what I was seeing. No wonder my stalker had gotten here so fast when Cormac was threatening me.
My stalker had moved in next door .