12. Isabel
12
ISABEL
I stared at him breathing hard. Like a demon. A monster.
But he wasn’t either. My stalker couldn’t be my enemy if he went so far to protect me. To save me. To spare me from the horrible, crude things that man said he wanted to do to me.
Rape me.
Cut me up.
Defile me.
Kill me.
That man came out of nowhere in this alley and wanted to take me how he saw fit and kill me.
Blinking faster, I tried to focus on that. I had to keep repeating it in my mind, like a mantra. I had to force that fact to the front of my mind.
That creep had such nefarious, terrible plans for me.
And this man saved me.
I had to view it like that. I had to remind myself over and over as I went stiff in shock.
I’m alive.
I’m okay.
I’m alive.
All thanks to my stalker, I could live to see another day, to paint another mural, to inspire others. I could continue on as a woman, not a victim. I would live , not be a statistic of a raping and killing.
No matter how many times I repeated it in my mind, I struggled to actually accept it. The stark fear of losing my life and losing my dignity as a woman loomed too big to just forget about it. Cliché as it was, my fucking life had flashed before my eyes.
I’d never come that close to death, and I couldn’t simply accept that I’d escaped it, that I’d been rescued from experiencing the end of my life.
How was I supposed to adjust to this? How could I move on from such a close call?
Simple. I couldn’t . The trauma of someone trying to rape and kill me was too huge of an ugly moment to just get over. My mind locked down. My body went numb.
Blinking quickly at the rain falling steadily, I stared at the man and tried to connect with reality. To express thanks and show my gratitude for his being my hero. To get up and run out of here, to put this experience behind me and lock it down to never feel that horror again.
“Isabel.”
I gazed at him, mesmerized by the movement of his lips as he said my name.
That was me. I heard him. I saw him speaking. Because I was alive , not dead.
“Isabel.” He repeated it as he stepped over the body at his feet.
Still watching him, unable to move as my body shivered and shook, I hugged my knees as tightly as I could. I had to hold on to something or else I’d fall apart. I had to be grounded, somehow, so I wouldn’t fall completely into myself in this shell-shocked status.
“Come here,” he urged as he walked to me. Lowering his hand to me, he suggested that I take it and get up. But I couldn’t. Staring at him, numb and struggling to force myself to move or think, I sat there in the puddle.
“Isabel…” This time, my name was just a whispered plea. Maybe out of pity. But as he lowered to his haunches and reached out to me with both hands, I saw it as an offering of comfort.
“Here. I’ll help you.”
That jarred me. I shook my head slightly, snapped into focusing on him.
“You did help me,” I replied in a shaky whisper.
He nodded. “Yeah, now let’s get out of here before someone comes.”
Too numb to move, I let him put his hands on my sides, lifting me. Those hands that just killed for me were gentle now. Those hands that had rubbed me at the club were careful now.
I stood with him, too cautious as I uncurled and rose to my full height that was still less than his. He held on to me, hoisting me up but not shoving me to move any faster. My legs were stiff. My arms shook so hard, I couldn’t keep them steady. But none of that mattered. So long as I kept my gaze locked on his dark one, seeing the serious worry in his eyes, I could lean on him. I could know I wasn’t—after one of the worst experiences of my life—alone.
I was not alone.
He didn’t abandon me once I was standing. He’d said we needed to get out of here, not I . This lean and strong man was sticking with me and helping me to walk down the alley.
Over and over, he glanced at me. Each time he turned his head to peek at me, more water whisked off his face and flung out.
We were soaked. Drenched to the bone. I trembled from a tremor of fear, but he was confident and smooth, steadily and bravely leading me away from the body of my would-be rapist.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t ask a single thing. Communication wasn’t happening, but I knew sooner or later, my mind would be exploding with too many questions.
For now, just walking away from the gruesome scene of threats and blood was enough. It was more than enough, and it was all I could tell myself to do. It was all I could manage physically.
Clinging to him, feeling his saturated clothes rubbing against mine as he kept his arm around me, I relied on his presence to prevent me from being alone.
Addicted and needy for more of his presence and comfort, I didn’t think. I didn’t rationalize where we were going, what we were doing, or what could happen next. Traumatized and stunned by how swiftly danger had encroached on me, I ignored everything but the secure hold of his strong arm around my back.
Blind and numb to the details of this rainy street, I tuned out everything but the feel of him against me. My stalker who’d become my savior. My hero. Nothing else mattered but being with him and knowing he’d lead me away.
We entered the warmth of a hotel lobby. The contrast of being out of the rain was a sharp one to adjust to, and without the precipitation hitting me and keeping me wet, my trembles worsened.
“Ah, Se?or Cruz.” A hotel staff member greeted us as we headed toward the elevators. When he didn’t get a reply from us, he raised his brows. “Se?or?”
The man shook his head as the employee took in our appearance, waving him off as we got into the elevator.
“Can I assist?—”
My stalker shook his head again as he pushed a button for the elevator. “No, thank you. Not now.”
The doors closed, and the elevator whisked us up many floors. Zoned out and only letting my sense of touch keep me tethered to reality, I held on to the front of his soaked shirt. Numb, but not alone, I focused on the pressure of his warm hand on my back, keeping me close.
We landed on another floor, and I didn’t think, didn’t react. I only followed him out of the elevator and a few minutes later, into a hotel room.
He guided me inside, and without a word, he turned back and locked the door.
“Isabel.”
I would never tire of hearing his smoky, gruff voice. So deep and rich. This time, though, he said it sternly.
“Isabel, look at me.” He came around to stand in front of me, framing my face as he stared at me.
Blinking again, I focused on him, but nothing could enter my mind. I’d put up a wall. I was hiding behind a mask, locked out to let nothing in.
“Isabel—”
“Don’t.” I choked on the rest of what I wanted to say, hit with a flashback of what the man threatened to do to me. “Don’t leave me.”
His brow furrowed as he watched me.
“I don’t…” I shook harder. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to remember. And I didn’t know how to move past this. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen a dead person before.”
He exhaled a long breath as he rubbed his thumbs over my cheek.
“I’ve never seen someone killed before.”
I’ve never known someone who is a killer. Tremors hit me again as I relived the vision of that nasty creep bleeding, then the shots into his head that?—
I closed my eyes tight, wishing against all wishes that I hadn’t watched. That I hadn’t looked.
He lowered his hands until he took my left one, leading me to follow him further into the room. Once more, I followed numbly and without protest. All the way to the bathroom, where he cranked on the handles for hot water to spray out of the shower. Steam quickly built up and filled the room.
“I—”
He shushed me, pulling me into the shower. Fully clothed. Shoes on, we stepped in together. Under the warm spray, he hugged me close and rubbed those strong hands up and down my back. But still, I shook.
“I’ve never seen a man killed like that. Or anyone.”
He didn’t reply. He only embraced me and tried to soothe me as I shook from the trauma and shock.
“I’ve never…”
He leaned back to cup my face again. “It’s okay, Isabel.”
I nodded, snapping from this tension that coiled within me. Hearing him tell me that it would be all right somehow superseded when I told myself that. I could mentally chant over and over that I would be okay, but it was his deep voice telling me that when I believed it.
In his arms, hugging him back, I felt how I was still alive.
And not alone.
“Don’t leave me,” I begged, not conscious of how desperate I sounded. Not caring, either. I was desperate not to be left solo to deal with this shock.
“I won’t. I won’t, Isabel.” He leaned in closer to kiss my forehead. Water streamed between us, warming me up. “I’m right here.” He kissed my cheek. “And I am not leaving you.”
I closed my eyes, lifting my face to feel it all. The water’s heat that seeped into me and soothed me. The pressure of his lips on my skin reminding me that he was with me.
“I’m here.” He kissed my other cheek, stepping one foot closer to me and letting me feel more of him flush to my body. “And I won’t leave.”
It sounded too good to be true. It was a blessing. A gift. To go from the solitary terror of someone wanting to rape me and kill me to the bliss and security of a strong man—my hero—to insist on staying.
My eyes remained closed. It was safer behind this darkness. Led on by only the sense of touch, I turned my head and sought out his lips.
He sighed as I kissed him, tentative at first, but as I dragged my hand up to the back of his neck, I held on and pressed my lips against his harder. Brushing them back and forth, I sought his taste. His dominance.
A soft grunt left his lips as he curled his arms around me tighter.
Gone was the fear. Every trace of shock receded. In its place was nothing but the strong push of his mouth over mine. His tongue sliding along the seam of my lips until I parted and let him in.
Making out with my stalker, this enigmatic, strong man who’d saved me from the cruelest fate, I soaked up the warm water and leaned on him.
Kissing him and accepting that I hadn’t died. I hadn’t been raped.
I was saved.
By him.