Chapter 4
4
EVELINA
W ith my clothes clutched to my chest, I felt like I’d been standing and staring at him for the longest time.
His gaze hadn’t left me, and his focus was so dark and unyielding, so intense and trained right on me, that it had every instinct in my body screaming to run. But he was between me and my escape, his massive frame filling the entire doorway. He towered over everything in the shadowy light, and I took a shaky breath.
“You’re blocking me from going to the bathroom to change,” I whispered, my voice trembling. When he didn’t move, I gestured toward the bathroom door behind him.
For long seconds, he didn’t move, but then he slowly shook his head and grunted out, “No. You can change right here.”
My heart hammered inside my chest, and I started shaking my head, but I knew it was futile. He’d make me do whatever he wanted. There was no point in arguing or trying to fight this, not if I wanted any chance of making it out alive.
I didn’t need him to say anything other than that unyielding “no” at the beginning of his response for me to understand that the power and control he wielded was absolute. Swallowing hard, I waited just a second to see if he’d change his mind, show mercy, and let me change in private. When he didn’t move, I turned around, my back to him, and forced myself to get dressed in front of him. At least, I could hide beneath the towel as I did it.
I looked at the window, but the damn thing was painted shut—something I’d been meaning to fix. I was now cursing myself for not doing it sooner because I couldn’t even escape out of it if I tried.
Closing my eyes, I bent forward to step into my panties, struggling to keep the towel up by pressing it between my upper arms and my sides when it came undone. As I slid my underwear up my legs, I lost my grip, and the towel dropped to the floor. But I couldn’t catch it and pull my panties up to cover my ass at the same time.
The cool air prickled over my skin and caused me to shiver even though I could feel his gaze burning right through me. He was undeniably taking every inch of my exposed body in with his very predatory stare.
I’d never gotten dressed so quickly in my life, and when I only had my shirt left to put on, I glanced over my shoulder. I wasn’t surprised to see his eyes were pinned on me. I’d felt him watching me the whole time, but seeing his laser-like focus on me made me even more uneasy.
His expression was one of raw, undisguised hunger, and that terrified the hell out of me. If his clothes were anything to go by, he was an escaped convict. How long had it been since he’d been with—or even seen—a woman?
I forced myself to keep dressing, and once my shirt was on, I turned around to face him, still wanting to cover myself more from his attention.
Fear coiled in every part of my body, and he hadn’t even hurt me—at least, not yet.
I’d never felt as vulnerable as I did at this moment. When he smirked, I felt something tingle and move through me—something very much inappropriate considering the circumstances. His immense body cast an imposing shadow across the room, and even with the distance between us, I felt the raw, dangerous energy radiating off of him and surrounding me.
“Sit there.” He gestured for me to sit on the edge of the bed, and there was no way I was going to fight his command. His dominance was undeniable.
When I sat on the edge, I clutched the comforter as if it would protect me or maybe be my anchor.
“I’ll just be blunt because there’s no fucking point in me trying to calm your nerves.” He stared down at me, his enormous arms crossed over his chest and making his biceps look even more massive.
I didn't respond. I just sat there like a good, little captive who wanted to live and listened to what he said.
“I’m Kane Richter, and I need a place to lie low where no one will think to look for me. Lucky for me, I found you.”
I glanced around my small, candlelit room. “Here?” The lone word came out strained but soft.
“That’s right.” He smirked again, but it held no amusement. It was purely sinister. His voice was a low growl when he asked, “What’s your name?”
I swallowed hard, trying like hell to piece together the reality of my fucked-up situation. He noticed me checking out his prison garb, and a dangerous sound left him. Keeping my name from him was pointless because he probably already knew what it was. He likely went through my shit downstairs while I was in the shower, just as he had my clothes.
“Evelina,” I finally said, giving him what he wanted.
He was a criminal, and now he was here, using me—well, my home—as his refuge. My heart thudded wildly in my chest as he took a step closer, his laser-like gaze unrelenting.
“W-What did you do to get locked up?” The words spilled out of me before I could filter them. I felt my eyes widen, heard my voice tremble despite my best effort to sound strong.
His eyes glinted with something cold and dark as he stared right into mine, maybe thinking about how to answer… or which way to kill me.
And then he sobered, any small expression on his face disappearing so all that showed was indifference.
“They say I’m a psychopath,” he said, his tone flat and cold. He spoke as if he were commenting on the weather.
The sane and rational part of me said he was full of shit. Because who would admit to that?
“I kill, little girl. And I fucking like it. It gets me off.”
I gasped and squeezed the comforter so tightly my knuckles popped. Something in that explanation, the words and how he said them, made me instantly believe him, putting my former doubt to rest. And the more he went on, the more I understood he spoke nothing but the truth.
“There’s something about the way fear looks in a person’s eyes and the way their blood stains my hands as they’re dying. It’s my obsession.”
I instinctively lifted my legs and moved backward on the bed, wanting as much space between us as possible. Not that it would make a difference because the weight of what he told me dropped onto me like an anvil, crushing me.
He took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. His violent and dangerous aura swallowed me whole.
He was a foot from the mattress, and all I could see, hear, and smell was this stranger who was crowding my space.
“And here’s the thing,” he murmured, his voice a growl that made my stomach twist with terror… and something else. “If you’re a good girl, if you listen and do what I say without a fight… then maybe— just maybe — I’ll let you live.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted the salt on my lips, and my breath hitched. His unwavering stare bore into my flinching one, and in that moment, I realized the most terrifying thing out of this whole situation.
He was feeding off my fear right now.
And as I lowered my gaze, his massive erection proved he was getting sadistic pleasure out of all of this.
“You’re going to let me stay here until the heat dies down,” he ordered. “Once I’m sure the authorities are off my tail and the hunt has moved on to somewhere else, I’ll leave.”
I heard his unspoken words: “If I feel like it.”
My mouth was dry, and my muscles seemed to be permanently contracted in horror and anxiety. “And if I refuse?” I whispered before I could stop myself.
He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound that left me feeling like he whipped it across my body. “You won’t refuse.” He said so coldly there was no doubt he believed—and I knew—it was the absolute truth.
He took one last step toward me, and I felt and heard the bed skid back an inch as his muscular legs came up against it. He hovered right over me, so tall I knew my bent knees did nothing to hide any bit of my body from his sight, and there was this glint in his eyes that beckoned me to challenge what he said.
“I guess the most important question right now is… are you going to fight me?”
My head tilted all the way back as I stared up at him, and I shook it slowly, my voice barely a whisper, as I answered, “No.”
Although he showed no emotion or expression, I knew he was… disappointed.
He wanted me to fight him even though he said he didn’t.
He wanted me to fight him because it would turn him on like the fucking sicko he already confessed he was.
He looked me over and said, “That's my good girl.”
My eyes went wide as saucers, my mouth dropped opened as my jaw unlocked, and I felt… something I didn't want to examine as it moved through me at those four words. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and whatever he saw in me right then had this dangerous sound leaving his chest.
“You’re going to do as I say. Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll make sure you’re unharmed when this is all said and done.”
And for some reason, I believed him once again.
He watched me with that unsettling, predatory stare, and I took a moment to look at him. To really look at him. His dark hair was cut short and was slightly disheveled around his head. His eyes were dark—as dark as I assumed his soul was, if he even had one. But I thought I saw a hint of blue between the shadows.
He had what looked like several days’ worth of black scruff covering his cheeks and chin, and the scar on the side of his face that curved down his neck and stopped at his collarbone made me curious about how he got it.
“You’re a killer.” I slowly looked back up at his face, shocked I wasn't afraid of uttering those words.
“I am, little girl. I’m a cold-blooded killer… and you’re trapped inside your house with me,” he said, the last part coming out almost as an afterthought. “But every single one of them deserved my wrath.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Some just like it violent, Evelina.”
It was as if the devil whispered that intimately in my ear, and I shivered at the indecent thoughts it provoked.
“So, we understand each other, right?”
I nodded, my throat too tight to respond. This wasn’t just an invasion of my home—it was a complete takeover, a violation of everything safe and familiar, and I had no choice but to accept it all.
“Take a moment to gather yourself and then come downstairs.”
But as terrifying as he was, I clung to the fact that he hadn’t hurt me yet. If I kept calm, if I didn’t push him and obeyed, maybe I would survive this like he said. I was trapped with a criminal—a psychopath—who had nothing to lose and no reason to show mercy.
So, I’d play along. I’d be the good girl he wanted me to be.
Suddenly, with him out of the room, I heard rain pelting against the window, heard the wind howling through the cracks between the logs of this old cabin. The storm had come. And it looked like it wasn’t just raging outside of my house.
My house.
My home.
That small thought replaced some of the overpowering fear I felt the past several minutes with indignation.
This cabin was mine. All mine. And no one, not even a convicted killer, could take it from me.
Doing just as he said, I gathered myself, all right.
There would be a time, sometime during this situation, when I would gather not only my wits but also my strength, turn the tables, and fight back.
And maybe then, the emotionless psychopath himself would finally know what fear felt like.