2. Easton
EASTON
Iwatch her squeeze her green eyes shut, bracing for an impact that isn't coming. She thinks she’s the hunter.
For months, I’ve watched her shadow my every move, tracking her little investigation with a possessive amusement.
I let Stella think she was slick. I let her think she was the one closing the net, simply because keeping her under the illusion of control was the easiest way to keep her exactly where I wanted her: right on my radar.
But the game ends tonight. The second her boots stepped across the threshold of my inner sanctuary, the thin thread of my control snapped completely.
Years of training and well-honed instincts roar to life with a primal fury that demands absolute possession.
It was one thing to track her digital footprint and monitor her through a screen, but in person…
Goddamn, Stella is more than intoxicating.
She’s… addictive. An angel. A goddess. No, more like a valkyrie.
In a fraction of a second, I close the distance between us. Before she can even draw another ragged breath, I trap her body securely against the wall, pinning her with my weight.
She opens her eyes, and the sheer defiance burning in those vivid green depths hits me like a physical blow.
I was right. This is no angel. She’s a warrior.
I look down at her, taking in every single detail, from the flush on her cheeks to the fierce tilt of her chin.
Stella has been through a lot in her twenty-three years.
It’s written all over her face and embedded deep in her soul.
She’s a fighter, and I have to respect that.
Then there’s her gorgeous, lush curves pressed tightly against my chest. Jesus, I want to save her, protect her, yell at her for being reckless, and also fuck her right up against the server wall she was about to break into.
Something inside my soul violently clicks into place.
Mine. The realization hits me with the force of a freight train.
She’s the one. I hardly even know what that means, only that I won’t be able to take a full breath again if she’s not by my side.
I don't care that I barely know her name; my soul recognizes hers instantly. As I stare down at Stella, my Stella, I’m already mentally sizing her ring finger, picturing the exact diamond that will bind her to me permanently.
"You're done running, sweetheart," I rumble, a dark, low growl vibrating deep in my chest. "You aren't leaving my sight until this danger is completely handled." And when it’s all done, you’ll be by my side forever as my wife and the mother of my children.
Stella bristles instantly, her eyes flashing with pure fire. "Let go of me! I don't need your protection, and I damn sure don't need your permission. Back off!"
“No can do.” I wrap an arm around her shoulder, my massive hand resting on her upper arm as I pull her into my side. Stella squirms and stomps on my foot, but my steel-toed boots are no match for hers.
I love Stella’s fight and fire, but right now, she’s a target, and I’m the only thing standing between her and a bullet.
“Are you kidnapping me? I’m a reporter, you know!”
“I know.”
This makes her falter slightly, allowing me to take a few long strides without her fighting me tooth and nail. When the shock of my confession wears off, Stella digs her heels in and goes completely stiff, trying to halt my movements.
“People will know I’m missing,” she informs me as I practically lift her off the ground and drag her toward the safety of my vehicle.
“I’m not the one trying to hurt you.”
“All evidence points to the contrary,” she sasses, giving me a scathing look. I can’t wait to kiss her anger away and watch it melt into pleasure. But that will have to wait.
“You don’t have the full story yet, my little reporter.”
She sucks in a breath and knocks into me with her shoulder. “Don’t belittle me,” she threatens. “And for the record, I most certainly am not yours.”
“Agree to disagree,” I say with a shrug. The look on her face is one of shock, annoyance, and confusion.
We’re approaching my SUV when a sudden movement in the peripheral shadows catches my eye. I stiffen, shifting my body to shield hers entirely.
Beside me, Stella tenses. The fight drains out of her for a split second as she stares into the darkness. She sees it, too. The reality of the threat finally sinks in, shaking her up enough that she stops resisting and climbs into the passenger seat without another word.
I pull away from the curb, pushing the engine as I take her to the most secure fortress I know: my home.
Stella is quiet for most of the ride, just silently looking out the window while I take a winding path back home to ensure we’re not being followed.
Every once in a while, she sighs heavily, as if she thought of a way to escape but then realized it wouldn’t work.
Soon, she won’t be trying to run away. At least, I hope.
Now that Stella is in my life, I can’t let her go.
By the time I pull into the driveway, some of her defiant sass has returned. She glares at the high security gates and the concrete walls. "What is this, your private dungeon?"
A grim smirk touches my lips. I’m incredibly relieved to see her fire returning. I rather enjoy her quick wit and sharp tongue; it pairs beautifully with the tempest raging in my chest.
"Something like that," I murmur, getting out and opening her door.
I haul Stella inside, but the moment we reach the guest bedroom, she starts fighting me all over again. “This is unacceptable. You can’t just… just… this can’t be happening,” she yells, throwing her hands against my chest. "You’re just going to keep me in this room? You can't just lock me away!"
"It's for your own good," I say flatly, avoiding her ineffectual slaps and punches.
“You’re not the first dickhead to think he can control me,” she spits out. “I survived them, and I’ll sure as hell survive you, too. The bigger the man, the harder they fall.”
I’m about to argue that she doesn’t have to “survive” me, but that’s not exactly true. I’m… a lot. Scarred. Broken. Paranoid. Intense. Doubts cloud my mind, but her voice slices through the noise.
“I’ll find your weakness,” she says firmly, her green eyes narrowed as she stares right through me.
“You already have.”
She blinks at my response, her brows furrowing in confusion.
I’m rather amused by the look on her face, but soon, it twists into suspicion.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing here, mister…
mister whatever your name is. Sure, I got spooked back there, but I shouldn’t have let you take me to a secondary location. ”
“Easton.” Stella tilts her head to the side. “My name is Eastion. And your safety isn’t a game,” I tell her firmly, unfazed by her wrath. "You can be as angry as you want, sweetheart, as long as you're safe."
I step back into the hallway, pull the heavy oak door shut, and click the lock into place.
Instantly, the pounding starts, which I expected.
"Easton! Open this door! Let me out!" she yells, her fists rattling the wood. “Open up! I can’t… Let me out!”
Within seconds, the anger in her voice shifts. The volume drops, turning into a raw, breathless panic. The frantic scratching and hollow gasps coming from the other side of the wood aren't defiance anymore, they’re born of true, unadulterated fear.
“I don’t… I can’t… please, Easton, please open… I can’t breathe in here, I can’t breathe!”
The sound squeezes my heart in a brutal, agonizing way I've never experienced before. Panicked, I throw the lock back and yank the door open.
Stella is standing there, her face a stark, pale white.
Her eyes are wide and filled with terror, her chest heaving as she draws shallow, ragged breaths.
She looks entirely broken, and the sight of it tears something open inside me.
A fierce, silent vow cements itself in my chest: I will never be the cause of her fear again.
"I'll stay," she whispers, trembling violently as she grips the doorframe. "I promise I'll stay... just please keep the door open. I don't... I don't like closed spaces."
A million questions flood my mind. Who put that fear in her? What happened to her? Wanting to know a person's history is new for me, but I force my curiosity down. This isn't the time.
I'm looking at the very first crack in her tough outer shell. Unable to help myself, I reach out, my fingers moving softly to brush a stray lock of chestnut hair behind her ear.
The moment my knuckles brush her skin, she flinches.
I freeze. My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache, a murderous rage simmering in my blood as I force myself not to think about the kind of monsters who taught her to react that way. I slowly drop my hand back to my side, making my movements as unthreatening as possible.
"I will never hurt you, Stella," I tell her, my voice low, steady, and dead serious. "And I will never let anyone else lay a hand on you ever again. Do you hear me?"
Her green eyes lock onto mine, wide and searching. For a long, breathless moment, the air hangs heavy between us, charged with an intensity that becomes too much to bear. Stella breaks the connection, looking away quickly, but not before I catch the glint of tears welling in her eyes.
Every protective instinct I possess screams at me to pull her into my arms and hold her against my chest until the world stops spinning.
Instead, I give her the out she needs. I respect her pride too much to force her to show me her vulnerability.
I want to earn her trust, her story, and hopefully, her future.
"Goodnight, Stella," I say quietly.
Turning around and walking down the hallway is, without a doubt, the hardest thing I have ever had to do.