Chapter 4 - Nikki #2
She wanted to argue, but she stayed silent, still considering him.
Their eyes met, and a ripple of electricity ran through her body at the look there.
There was something about him that seemed to make her mind go blank, and all she could think about was what his hands had felt like when he’d dressed her bandages, when his thumb had lightly brushed against the gash on her side.
As if he could read her thoughts, his eyes flicked to her stomach, then back up to her.
“How is your stomach feeling?” he asked. “Do you want me to check it?”
The thought of him running those calloused hands across her bare skin sent an inexplicable rush of heat rippling through her, and she blushed, feeling childish for doing so. She coughed and shook her head.
“No, it feels fine, but thank you.” She wiped her mouth, getting to her feet. “Thanks so much for the breakfast. I should probably get home.”
Pushing herself to her feet, she grabbed her plate and placed it in the dishwasher. She could feel him watching her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn and glance in his direction. Her heart was still pounding.
She moved to the living room and grabbed her bag, still on the couch from the night before.
There was a long scratch in the leather from where it had skidded across the street the night before.
Grimacing, she tried half-heartedly to buff it out with her thumb before giving up and slipping it over her shoulder.
The bruises and other aches protested the simple movement.
Just as she was about to walk to the door, Jasper’s hand rested on her shoulder. She stiffened for a moment, then turned. Her heart leaped in her throat at just how close he was.
“You can’t leave while there’s a lunatic out there hunting for you,” he said. “I wasn’t sure about it last night, but after our conversation at breakfast, I’m certain. You should stay here.”
She laughed, thinking it had to be a joke or some offhand, unserious comment. “While I appreciate the concern, it’s not like I can stay at your place forever.”
She meant it to come out flippantly, expecting him to laugh. He didn’t. Instead, his face remained stoic. Her own smile vanished.
“You can’t keep me here,” she said. Her voice was flat, emotionless, somehow sounding both stunned and disbelieving despite that.
“I think it would be safer for you,” he said, his tone just as flat. Not quite dangerous, but something about it—the intensity, perhaps—made her skin prickle.
“I need to get going,” she repeated.
His eyes hardened just a fraction. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”
Her heart began to pound, though this time it was more with anxiety than any sort of attraction to him. She took a step back, and his hand fell away from her shoulder.
“Jasper, you do realize how absurd this sounds, right? I can’t stay here forever.”
Again, she meant it to come out flippantly. But again, Jasper didn’t smile.
“I’ve been thinking about how to make sure this doesn’t happen again, and I think the best way to keep you safe is for us to get married,” he said.
She burst out laughing because he had to be joking. Only, he wasn’t laughing with her.
She gaped at him, incredulous. “You’re serious?”
“I don’t make jokes about these things,” he said. “Lucas is going to think twice about coming after you if you’re the second-in-command’s wife. The entire pack will be hunting him down if he does something like that.”
The words rang in her ears, refusing to come together into a coherent sentence. Once again, she waited for that stern, serious facade to crack, for him to burst into laughter and tell her he was joking.
His determined expression didn’t change.
She shook her head. “No. That’s not happening. Ever.”
“I’ve made up my mind,” Jasper said, folding his arms, that handsome face stern and unyielding.
Scoffing, she shook her head. “This is one of the stupidest things I have ever heard,” she said. “I’m not even going to entertain it. I’m leaving. Thank you for looking after me, but the joke has gone far enough.”
“I’m not joking, Nikki, and you know it.”
She glared. “This conversation is over.”
She made to step around him, to head toward the door. He stepped in front of her.
“Move,” she said through gritted teeth, her rage beginning to swell and bubble over.
“No.”
For the first time, a genuine alarm began to wash over her.
The conversation before this moment had been so absurd that she’d struggled to accept it was even happening.
Now, however, it felt all too real, and it felt all too similar to the other times men had tried to control her life.
Sier, her adoptive father, Lucas. Her heart hammered.
Part of her wanted to freeze, the other part screamed at her to run.
She darted around him, dashing toward the door. Before she had gotten ten feet away, a calloused hand grabbed her wrist and spun her back around until she was facing him. She tried to break his grip, to twist out of it the way he had shown her, but he’d expected it, and his grasp only tightened.
“Let. Go. Of. Me,” she grit out.
“I’m not letting you go out there and get yourself kidnapped,” he said. “I’m sorry, but this is the best way to protect you. You have to know that.”
Her foot stomped down, trying once again to use some of the self-defense techniques she’d learned in his class. He avoided it. His expression was sympathetic, but firm at the same time.
“I know this isn’t ideal or what you would have wanted,” he said. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t have to do this. But it’s for your own protection. I’m not letting him get his hands on you again.”
She wanted to laugh in his face. Rage rippled through her, and she glowered.
But she also could tell that there was no way around this.
He wasn’t going to let it drop. In the end, she had no real say, the same way it had been for nearly her entire life.
There was nothing she could do that would stop this from happening.
“Fine,” she spat. “Fine.”
She yanked her hands out of his grasp, and he let them go. It might have been her imagination—it probably was—but she could have sworn she saw something like guilt on his features. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Without another word, she spun on her heels and stormed up the stairs.
When she returned to the guest room, she slammed the door shut and locked it.
She leaned against the door, staring out at the room, the still-messy bed.
She waited for a moment, listening for any sounds of footsteps trudging up the stairs.
When none came, she pushed herself away from the door to collapse on the bed.
She stared up at the ceiling, letting the situation sink in, willing herself to accept what was happening.
Jasper was keeping her here. Another man controlling her life, the way men had ever since she was little. How different was he from Lucas when it came down to it? Both wanted control over her life. Neither would give her a say in anything that impacted her.
She heard someone come up the stairs. She listened, not moving, as the footsteps halted in front of her room for the briefest of moments. She could picture Jasper standing on the other side, debating whether to knock to try talking to her.
The footsteps walked away.
Letting out a deep sigh, she flung her forearm over her eyes and tried to accept that, once again, she had no control over her life. She was going to be married whether she liked it or not.