Chapter 13 Seth #2
Before I get the chance to back away and pretend I didn’t see any of this, the person against the wall pushes forward enough that I can see their face.
He’s gorgeous in a punk rockstar sort of way.
He has sharp cheekbones that give him an exotic, aristocratic look, while the hooded blue eyes and shaggy auburn hair give him a bedroom appeal.
A hoop ring graces one side of his plump lower lip, which really emphasizes that punk look when combined with the thin, leather collar gracing his throat.
His blue eyes widen when he catches sight of me. With a curse, he punches at the guy pinning him against the wall. Shit, is he upset that I caught them? Are they going to beat the crap out of me?
With a snarl, he manages to break free of the other man, but instead of making a beeline to pummel me, he dashes past me and out the front door. I stand there for a moment, unsure of what I should do. Should I leave? Act like nothing happened and just get my mail?
My attention goes back to the other man as he turns around and gives me an amused look. “He likes to play hard to get.”
His voice is deep, and if I weren’t so twisted up about Frankie, I’d be interested in having him whisper all sorts of dirty things in my ear. That is, until I get a look at his eyes. They are dark, but there’s something there that makes my brain say fuck no.
This man is a predator. I can feel it in my bones. Even if he’s not some flavor of supernatural, I do not want to end up in a dark alley or behind a locked door with him.
“I’m just getting my mail,” I say softly, pointing toward the row of cubbies he’s standing in front of.
“My apologies.” He moves down the row and opens a cubby, grabbing the stack of mail. I edge up beside him and open my mail cubby. There’s the assorted junk mail and some bills, but nothing exciting.
“You’re Frankie’s boy.” There’s no inflection in his voice; just the type of monotone that makes his vibe all the creepier. Shit, is this guy a serial killer or something? Wait, how does he know Frankie? Or that he’s been showing up in my apartment?
“Um…” My brain blue screens. What do I say?
“I work with him.” He drops that bombshell on me like we are talking about the weather, but internally, I’m freaking out.
Someone who works with the mob is living in my apartment building.
Does the landlord know? The landlord probably doesn’t really care.
Hell, I got my place using a fake name on a really questionable-looking ID card.
Hell, has Frankie been gloating over fucking a sleeping guy without getting caught?
“Um…” I chew on my lower lip, giving him quick glances from the corner of my eye. “Do you have his number?” I try not to blush as he raises one brow at me. “He asked me to look for something, is all,” I end with a mumble.
“He’s doing a job right now, but when I see him, I’ll let him know you need to talk.”
“Yeah, okay, that works, too. Thanks.” I give him a quick nod, then turn and make my way back up to my apartment. I can do one last look through the letters and then get ready for work. I’m going through the mail, trashing the junk, when a postcard slips from between some of the coupon pages.
Bending down, I pick up the postcard that shows Alcatraz Island, large block letters over the top say ‘ESCAPE’. What in the world is this about? Flipping the card over, I have to grip the kitchen countertop to keep myself standing. My Uncle’s beautifully looping handwriting flows across the back.
“Wizard speaks riddles, but I know the key. Tell Vin I’m looking for the shooting star.
The shadows are closing in, the shadows are closing in, and I don’t know if I have the light to drive them away.
Your mother doesn’t know. Doesn’t know. Doesn’t know.
Know. No! Don’t let her know. Soul is splitting.
Dripping. I don’t want the shadows to take me, but I have to find my ship. ”
By the time I finish, I’m shaking so much that I have to take a stumble over to my rickety dining table to sit.
Uncle Cody just sent me a postcard, which means he’s no longer in jail.
And on top of that, he’s completely insane.
None of that letter makes any sense. But he doesn’t want my mom to know?
Why wouldn’t he want my mom to know that he’s out?
I mean, I’m sure the police will investigate the breakout so she’s going to find out one way or the other.
Pounding on the door has me jumping in my seat, the postcard dropping to the table top.
All goes quiet for a short time before it starts back up, and I scramble to my feet with a curse.
I’ve already paid for the month, so I doubt it’s the landlord.
I don’t bother with the busted viewer in the door.
The thing has been busted since I moved in, and all I can see through it is a kaleidoscope image of what I assume is the floor.
Which is why my heart practically stops when I open the door to find Jake on the other side.
I freeze, my body rooted in place as I stare at the literal manifestation of my nightmares.
Jake’s expensively styled blonde hair falls in waves to his shoulders.
Broad shoulders that I’m positive have gotten bigger since the last time I saw him.
His cold gray eyes are dark with anger, and his mouth is twisted up in a sneer. “You think you can run from me? Me! You are mine.”
My mouth is dry, and I can feel the pin pricks of tears in the corners of my eyes, but I’m not giving him any more of my tears. He doesn’t deserve them. I stand to my full height, and even though I’m holding the door handle so tightly my hand is beginning to cramp, I refuse to look away from him.
“I’m not yours. I never was,” I hiss out, proud that my voice doesn’t crack or waver. He looks at me with an expression akin to annoyed arrogance.
“Come now, little mouse. We are good together.”
“Good together!? You raped me! On more than one occasion.” My voice is rising, and I can’t make myself care.
“You aren’t thinking clearly, right now. Let me take you back home. You won’t be so confused then.”
I can’t believe this guy. Is he really that oblivious to what he did to me while we were together? How much he beat me down, destroyed my self-worth?
“Like hell, I’m going anywhere with you. Did you not hear me when I said you raped me? You are a rapist. A fucking serial rapist.”
Jake smirks –fucking smirks! “Didn’t hear you say no.”
“Because you fucking gagged me or told me you would hurt me if I complained. You did hurt me if I told you no. You beat the shit out of me. Just get out of here. I don’t want to see you. I don’t even care how you found me. Just go away.”
I can feel the tears trying to form again, and it’s getting difficult to catch my breath. Is it possible to pass out from this? It feels like it’s possible.
Something flickers in his eyes, and I know if he gets inside, I’m a dead man. “Little bitch. You are mine!” he snarls and reaches for me.
He’s fast, but I’m inside my home, and I still have my wards powered up.
There’s a sudden tightening across my skin, as if I’m standing too close to an open oven.
The wards flare to life, and just as Jake’s hand breaches the threshold, the wards snap, flinging him away from the door.
He crashes into the wall on the other side of the hallway with a surprised yelp.
Jake scrambles to his feet with a roar, spittle flecking his lips.
His face twists, pupils shrinking to slits as the irises change to a muddy yellow color.
He hisses at me, full on hisses, and I take a step back.
I should close the door, I know I should, but I can’t.
I have to keep my eyes on him. If I can keep my eyes on him, the wards will make sure he can’t get in.
Yes, it’s stupid. Logically, I know this. The wards will work no matter what.
But the panic I’m just barely managing to keep down skyrockets just thinking about closing that door. We are at an impasse, staring each other down, both of us unsure of our next move.
“You’re causing a scene.” The deep, monotone voice in the hallway has me taking a step closer to the doorway. I might have just met Frankie’s associate, but there’s no denying that’s his voice I’m hearing out there.
Jake whips toward the other man, lips peeling back from teeth that have turned into fangs.
He hisses again and then spits, a glob of liquid shooting out from beneath his forked tongue.
There’s a grunt, and then the lobby guy comes into view.
There’s an almost bored expression on his face, but his eyes are orange, and I can practically feel his anger beating at the airwaves.
“You are new here, so let me make this very clear for you.” He doesn’t even flinch as Jake spits another glob of what I assume is venom. It lands on his lower neck, and I wince as the skin sizzles. Okay, so not venom. Venom doesn’t do that, but acid does.
Oh shit, how did I not know I was dating some acid-spitting snake monster?
Frankie’s associate is close enough to Jake that they are practically chest to chest. He gives Jake a smile that just leaves his eyes colder.
“This building is under my protection. And this man is under the protection of the Vicellia Family’s Enforcer.
” He reaches up and readjusts Jake’s shirt collar, and Jake snaps.
He lunges forward, mouth opening wide to deliver a bite, and then he’s just gone.
There’s a crash from down the hall, a short scream, and then silence.
Frankie’s associate just stands there, that bored expression still on his face. He shifts his attention to me, his eyes bleeding back to their normal color. “The wards were a good idea, kid. Stay inside for tonight while I deal with the punk. I’ll let Frankie know what happened.”
“Thanks,” I squeak as I hesitantly step out of my room and look down the hall. At the other end, where a window used to be, is now a gaping hole. The sound of crickets and night traffic filters in. I can’t believe it’s night time already.
The door closest to the window opens, and an elderly woman pokes her head out. She takes one look at the guy standing in front of me and disappears back into her apartment.
“Do you think he’s dead?” I ask hopefully.
“Doubtful, but I’ll tell the crew to keep their eyes open. What is his name?”
“Jake. Um, Jake Rutledge. What exactly is he?”
He turns and looks at me, his eyes back to their normal color. “Most likely a naga. They are the only snake shifter than can look fully human.”
I nod my head, as if this is a completely normal conversation for me. “Wait, what do you mean by that? I mean Frankie looks fully human and so do you,” I point out.
He is silent for a moment, one eyebrow arched. “Is Frankie really fully human looking?” His emphasis on the word “fully” and the way his gaze flicks down to my crotch has my cheeks heating up.
“Oh. Um…I see what you mean,” I stutter. Jake definitely looked completely human, in that regard. Something I’m struggling to wrap my head around. Why do shifters have different genitals even when in human form?
I look up at the guy to ask him, but he’s turning and heading for the stairs before I can say anything else. “Thank you!” I call after him. He raises a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing through the stair well door.
With one last look at the destroyed window, I lock myself in my apartment.
I don’t feel restless anymore. It’s at that moment that my stomach makes an embarrassingly loud gurgle.
With a sigh, I head to the kitchen. Some food and an early night are in order, I think. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.