Chapter 8 Aniyah #2
“It’s nothing,” I said with a shrug. “Just another harmless admirer. See?” I pointed at the screen. “They even signed it ‘secret admirer.’ I mean…” I trailed off when his frown deepened, cutting into his face like a blade.
Without a word, he shot up and stomped around the desk, snatching the rose off the corner. He examined it in silence, each movement slow and calculated, like an angry tiger stalking prey. Coiled, on edge, waiting to pounce.
And what do you do with a tiger ready to explode? You poke it, get the explosion over with, and move on.
“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about,” I said, trying to keep my tone breezy. “It’s not that serious. They seem harmless.”
I reached for the flower, but he yanked it away, his glare sharp enough to draw blood.
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“Where did you find this?” he asked, his voice going cold, his face morphing back into that unreadable wall he always wore when he was ready to shut me out.
I rolled my eyes and pointed toward the bookcase where I’d originally found the flower and note.
He surged up and sped over to it, scanning the area like a detective with a murder case. “Was there anything else with it?” he asked without looking at me.
I hesitated.
I really didn’t want to hand over the note.
It was sweet, flattering, even. Nothing threatening.
It was just someone appreciating me, telling me all the things I already knew but still loved hearing.
But maybe, maybe if I showed it to him, he’d realize it wasn’t worth flipping out over and finally let it go.
Decisions, decisions.
With a frustrated grunt, I threw my head back, stomped to my desk, yanked open the drawer, and pulled out the slip of paper. I slapped it into his waiting hand.
He read it once. Then again. His eyes widened slightly, but the rest of him went still, eerily still. Was that a good sign? A bad one? Somewhere in between?
Then his arms dropped to his sides, and he looked at me, not angry this time, but disappointed, which was much worse.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” His voice started low but rose with each word. “Why did you hide it? You know I’m supposed to protect you, right? That’s my job!”
“It’s fine. I was handling it.” Couldn’t he see it was just another admirer drawn to something they couldn’t have? Even if they came for me, I had magic, training, and no shortage of grit. I wasn’t intimidated.
Alic stepped forward, his massive form towering over me. “Do you think I’m pathetic?”
My eyes snapped to his. “No! That’s not—”
“So, what then? I’m incompetent? A joke?” His voice was tight, sharp, unraveling with every word.
I shook my head, unable to form the rebuttal stuck in my throat.
“You think I got all of these,” he dragged his fingers across the scars lining his arms and face, “from sitting around? From only looking out for myself?”
I knew his scars were a sore subject for him. I shook my head, knowing that now was not the time to tell him I thought his scars gave him a sexy bad boy look I was totally into.
His entire body trembled, and when I glanced down, blood steadily dripped from the hand he had clenched around the thorny rose. My stomach dropped.
This had spiraled too far.
I reached for his hand. He tried to pull away, but I barked, “Listen to me!”
He froze, eyes burning into mine. I met his gaze head-on, grounding myself with a breath before pushing back. “Stop. We both know you’re overqualified. Nova wouldn’t have sent anyone less, so, please just stop.”
I gently pried the crumpled rose from his fingers. He finally let go, releasing the crushed, bloody petals into my palm.
Turning back to my desk, I pulled a healing rune stone from the drawer and placed it against his palm. Trolls could heal on their own, sure—but this? This told me he’d wanted to feel the pain.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, “for hiding it from you.”
He stepped closer until our chests nearly touched. “Why?” His voice was soft but heavy. “Just… tell me why.”
My gaze dropped to his freshly healed hand, and I traced a scar with the pad of my finger. “Because I liked the attention and didn’t want it to end. And… I didn’t want to hear your judgment.”
We stood there in silence, only our shared breath between us.
“You know this could be dangerous, right?” he murmured. I nodded. Yes, kissing each other would be dangerous right now, but I still wanted it.
His hand stayed in mine, and I took that as a positive sign until he kept going. “This is how it starts. Sweet notes. Flowers. A harmless message. Then it escalates. Urgency. Possessiveness. One day, you’re checking your mail, then they’re waiting for you.”
Oh. We’re still talking about the harmless stalker? Ugh.
He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine. “If something happened to you… if I wasn’t there.... I don’t think I could hold it together.”
I didn’t have the words to fix that kind of fear. His worst fear was something that would always be a possibility, one I could never truly fix. So, I cupped his cheek, letting him see in my eyes that I was strong, that I was here.
His gaze dropped to my lips. His tongue flicked over his lips, and the pull between us became unbearable.
The heat shifted, slow and steady at first, then anger gave way to hurt, which simmered into something warmer, heavier. Lust?
Maybe this was our moment. Maybe with him, it wasn’t meant to be fast and wild. What unfurled between us would be slow, reverent. I could do that.
I slid my hands to his chest, trailing lower. Just as I reached his waistband, he caught my wrists, shaking his head with a soft smile.
“I can’t, Ni. You’re my client and—”
I pulled away, fast and sharp. The boss mask dropped over me like armor. I would not let him see me break.
Flicking my hand dismissively, I laughed. “It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it. I get it.”
Turning on my heel, I walked to my desk, slipped on my heels, and shut down the computer. “Let’s go,” I said briskly, waving him toward the door. “We’ll come up with a game plan tomorrow.”
Burnt out, rejected, I needed my bed more than anything.
He nodded, following silently. It was one of the most painfully awkward moments of my life, and that included jungle survival training with my parents, where I had to fight without using my powers. Even that had felt less uncomfortable.
We exited the building and walked around the corner to my apartment. The elevator ride was excruciating, the atmosphere around us thick with unspoken words.
At my door, I struggled with the lock, even giving it a shoulder shove, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Here,” Alic murmured, stepping behind me. His arms circled around mine, and the scent of leather and peppercorn filled my senses. It ignited something deep inside me, something dangerous.
I nearly turned and kissed him, but before I could move, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.
Like he could read my thoughts, he guided me inside, then retreated just as fast, muttering, “I’ll be outside. We’ll talk plans tomorrow. Good night.” Then the door shut.
And I was left achy, flushed, and burning for a man I wasn’t allowed to have.
My heart went out to the little stalker. Run and hide, little stalker. Run and hide. The big, bad troll is coming for you.