Chapter 14
Xander
Where the fuck did she go?
As soon as her torturous set finished, I ran to the office, looking through the CCTV to track down her movements around the club tonight. And not once have any cameras picked her up.
My hands tremble as my eyes ping to every camera angle in this club. I want to see her. Need to see her. We have cameras in every single corner of his club, and if she’s not here, she must’ve left.
I know that performance was for me. She was exploring.
Testing. Seeing how I would react to her little show.
If I wasn’t studying every graceful movement she made, I would’ve missed the part where I clocked she was dancing for me.
The way her viridian eyes were stuck to me the whole time did nothing to tame the dire need to rip her off the stage.
I keep denying myself. It would be so easy to have her. To make her mine in every sense of the word.
But I’ll make her crave me the same way I crave her. Even if that means chaining her up and locking her away.
She will be mine.
I can still see it clearly. Her green bodysuit that didn’t even attempt to cover any portion of her ass. The way she ground on the pole in front of me, that pathetic piece of scrap barely covering her little cunt.
But something switched in her at the end.
I lock the cameras, rushing out of the club and to my McLaren. Camila’s car is gone, and I fucking hope she’s gone straight home.
My car roars to life, and I waste no time pulling out onto the roads.
I enter the gated area. Her car is already parked, and when I look to where I know her room is, the lights are off, but her window is open—like an invitation.
I slide the hood of my jumper over my head and exit the car. There’s no way I’m getting in through the front door. Last time was just luck. There’s a keypad to the side; you can only get in with a code or a key. Neither of which I have.
Craning my neck up, I assess whether I’ll be able to climb up to the sixth floor.
My Angel left without even saying goodbye. I’m getting inside one way or another.
The small cat she was carrying earlier flashes in my mind, immediately making me inwardly cringe. I hope that wasn’t hers.
It’s a long way up, but I start my climb to her open window.
I find any grip I can on each windowsill, praying that no one is awake at this time of night.
I finally reach her window, heaving myself up inside.
It’s dark aside from the yellow light of the streets casting shadows into what looks like a kitchenette.
It’s clean, and there’s nothing in sight.
Nothing that would be of significance to her life.
No picture frames, no personal items left lying about.
If I didn’t know this was her apartment, I wouldn’t think anyone lived here.
Moving through the compact space, I keep my footsteps light, undetectable. It’s completely silent, which tells me she’s probably asleep.
Something scrapes on the carpet behind me as I inch towards a closed door that looks like it might be a bedroom.
Turning, I cast my gaze to the floor next to a doorframe and almost jump out of my skin at the sight of that small, black cat she was holding this morning.
Its beady little eyes snap up to me, and the scraping stops.
“Stay the fuck where you are,” I warn lowly. I don’t know how deep of a sleeper Camila is, but that little shit could’ve woken her up and got me caught.
It sits, tail swaying behind it, little pea-head tilting to the side. Those ears pointing straight on the top of its head make it look like the Devil sent one of his minions to keep me away from Camila.
I scrunch my nose towards it, waving my hand in the opposite direction to it in an attempt to get it to go away. It lifts on its hind legs to all fours and steps towards me.
“No,” I say slowly, backing away.
It has the audacity to meow back at me.
“I swear to god, if you ruin this for me—”
It’s sprinting past me, straight into the bedroom, meowing as he passes. How can such a loud noise come from such a tiny little thing like that?
I don’t get a chance to turn around before a weight is clinging to my back, legs wrapping tightly around my torso, and the unmistakable coldness of a blade bites into my throat.
A low chuckle escapes me as I grip her legs, gently rubbing the exposed skin of her thighs as she stiffens. A million lightning strikes shoot over my skin, and a calmness flows over me at the sound of her voice. The knowledge of her being safe.
“Get the fuck out of my house before I call the police.” She forces the words into my ear in a low tone, and fuck if her threat doesn’t rush straight to my dick.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Angel.”
“Xander?” she whispers in surprise.
She hops off my back at the same time I let go of her legs, but I don’t get a chance to turn around because she’s already on me, her small body pinning me to the wall of her dark hallway.
And though I can’t see her face clearly, the anger radiating off her is palpable.
She presses the tip of the carving knife into the bottom of my chin, causing me to lift my head while her eyes sparkle in the small bit of light peeking through a window in one of the rooms.
“What the fuck are you doing inside my house? How did you get in?”
Her body trembles slightly with the aftershocks of fear from my intrusion. I don’t blame her. Maybe breaking in wasn’t the wisest idea.
I smile, bringing my hands to her waist, just below her silky crop top, and pulling her hips into me, the knife holding in place, but her grip on it faltering slightly.
“I wanted to see you. Make sure you were okay. You disappeared after your performance.” That word tastes bitter on my tongue, knowing that I wasn’t the only person watching, the only one she was dancing for. My grip on her tightens.
“And you think breaking in is the way to do it?” she seethes, the bridge of her nose wrinkling.
My fingertips dig into her soft skin with need. Need to be closer. The knife drops just a little bit lower between us. She doesn’t attempt to move. I lower my head so I can look into those emerald eyes, but it’s too dark; I’d give anything to see them in the light right now.
“Xander,” she hisses, pushing herself away from me forcefully. “You need to stay away from me.”
She struts back into her bedroom, and my head spins. I follow her in as she turns on a small lamp by her double bed, revealing her black silky shorts and top. The white sheets are dishevelled, and her bedside table is open.
In milliseconds, I’m spinning her around, caging her in against the wall, knife clattering to the floor.
Her fiery gaze snaps to me; a sudden possessiveness sucks me under its spell.
I grab both of her wrists, sliding them up the wall and gripping them both with my left hand.
The knuckles on my right hand trail down over the curved slopes of her toned arms, down the side of her ribs, and I’m locked in on the way her skin erupts in goosebumps with every inch.
I blink back to her eyes—they’re fixed on me.
More accurately, they’re fixed on my lips.
I shouldn’t have ambushed her like this. But that unremitting feeling of wanting to be near her, never letting her out of my sight, just doesn’t relent.
“I’m not leaving,” I grit out.
She blinks, eyes burning right into me. “Get out, Xander.”
“No.” I press myself into her, firmly against her flat stomach, my hand wrapping around the back of her neck and tilting her face towards me until we’re both breathing the same air.
I take this time to drink her in. The ever-so-light dusting of freckles on her face, the slope of her nose, the prominent Cupid’s bow on her plump lips.
“This isn’t normal,” she whispers, breath quickening.
“Nothing about me is normal,” I say, gently caressing her tangles of hair at the nape of her neck.
She swallows. “I need you to leave me alone.”
My nostrils flare, a twisting starting in my stomach. “That’s not an option anymore,” I whisper.
Her body presses back into me, as if she’s not controlling the movement herself.
“Why aren’t you scared of me?” I ask through clenched teeth.
It doesn’t make sense. She should be running a mile from me. She needs to run a mile. She’s not safe with me; she never could be. I’m too dangerous for her. But would that even change anything?
I can feel the pounding of her heart against me, yet she makes no effort to make me leave anymore.
“I’ve been scared of worse than you,” she mutters, her face inches from mine, expression soft.
I squeeze her neck, pulling her forehead gently towards mine. “Tell me who.”
“You need to leave. Now,” she says, but her lips pull to mine like a magnet all the same.
My body is vibrating with the need to devour her, to mark her as mine.
“I’m not leaving here until you tell me who I need to bury,” I whisper against her lips, muscles tense with the knowledge that someone more dangerous than me hurt her.
“What would you do, Xander? Shoot them?”
My hand immediately leaves her neck and reaches into the strap to the side of my waistband, pulling out a pistol from inside my slacks.
I hover it between us as her eyes drop to the weapon.
I watch as her throat works to swallow, and she slowly brings her focus back to me, the first hint of fear swirling in her eyes.
I don’t plan on letting her go, so she may as well know the truth about me now.
She flinches as my thumb slides the small safety clip down, the click of it loud in the quiet of her bedroom.
“I’d do more than that.”
Her bottom lip starts trembling, and her eyes ping to the gun. Vacant. Almost unseeing.
She’s scared.
I shove the gun back in the holster and guide her chin up towards me.
“Look at me,” I demand, and she does. “I can’t promise to protect you from me, but I will protect you from everyone else. I will kill for you.”
“That’s insane,” she whispers with that vacant look still painting her face.
Without another word, I press a kiss to her forehead and leave through the front door.