Chapter 14
Theo
Now
In a movie, this would be exactly the part where the audience would be yelling at the screen, urging me to use this moment of distraction to my advantage and make a run for it.
It’s basic instinct — to survive. I should run.
I should want to run. But instead, I feel myself wanting to stay.
It’s like one force is pulling and another is fighting for control over me.
I can’t walk away. Not right now. Not when her short blonde waves, all tousled and sweaty, are falling around her face and framing it like a halo.
Holly’s eyes remain glued to her phone, beautiful and brown and as unresponsive as a statue’s. Silence falls between us, the quiet growing too loud until I can’t stand it.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice laced with concern that borders on desperation.
Silence, heavy and suffocating is my only answer.
“Holly?”
Still nothing.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I snatch the phone from her trembling hand, my fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting connection, and look at the screen.
UNKNOWN: Roses are red, violets are blue, I have two sharp things and one of them is going inside you.
What the…
Unfiltered anger surges through me. How DARE someone threaten Holly like this? How DARE someone enter her bedroom without her permission and violate her sanctuary like this?! The audacity!
I start typing out a response.
“Theo, give it back!” Holly lunges at me, a whirlwind of fury. But I’m bigger. And despite what she thinks, faster too.
I wrap one arm around her waist and trap her arms against her side, hauling her against me. Her breath hitches as her back presses against my chest, warm and hard. A defiant snarl bubbles in her throat, and she squirms in my arm. “Let. Me GO!”
I don’t.
Instead, I turn my head to one side as the top of her head grazes my cheek.
Her perfume (daffodils and vanilla) combined with some other warm, earthy scent (probably blood or sweat) spins me in a cocoon of heady sensations.
A sharp pain spreads in my abdomen where the stab wound is, but the feel of her arse pressed up against my hardening cock overpowers it.
She squirms some more. I hold her tight and use my free hand to type out an eloquent response.
Holly: Message me again and I’ll cut off your dick.
I’m quite unclear as to why she didn’t do this in the first place.
She goes on squirming, frustration bleeding into her voice and I tighten my arm around her waist, holding her close.
My grip is firm, but not harsh. I just need her to listen.
I need her to understand the severity of this situation.
I hit “send” and immediately pride swells in my chest. I did it.
I protected my girl. A smug grin stretches across my face as I look down at Holly, expecting a grateful smile.
Maybe even a kiss to express her gratitude. Right?
Wrong. Her foot connects with my shin, sending a sharp, searing pain up my leg that makes me double over. She elbows my stomach, missing my stab wound by an inch, which is then followed by a sharp kick to my balls. The pain is sharp, instant and intense.
Holly’s phone clatters to the floor and she snatches it up, eyes blazing. “What the hell did you do!”
I'm still doubled over, clutching my groin and gasping for air.
“You asshole!” she spits. “You fucking asshole! You weren’t supposed to respond to the message!”
I groan, pushing back my hair and the movement sends a lacerating pain flaring up my abdomen. “Christ…Hollister…someone really needs to teach you how to say thank you.”
“Thank you?” She throws the shovel at her feet. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You just made things ten times worse!”
I frown. Worse? I take support from a nearby tree and manage to stand up straight. What could be worse than a stranger breaking into your home and laying out knives on your bed?
“You replying is only going to encourage this asshole!” She glances at her phone screen then back at me. “What the fuck, Theo?”
Silence stretches.
Tension crackles.
Holly goes on staring at me like she’s trying to make my brain explode. A few more seconds pass. She walks away and screams with her fists clenched by her side.
Well, I suppose that’s better than her stabbing me again.
She picks up the shovel and walks back towards me. Her stance is wobbly, fuelled more by adrenaline than technique, but the fury in her eyes is hard to deny. “Drive me home,” she orders.
“Excuse me?”
Holly’s glare turns icy. “Drive. Me. Home.”
I laugh, subtly gripping my stitched-up wound to lessen the pain.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were cracking a joke to lighten up the mood.”
“How about I crack your neck instead to lighten my mood?” she snarls, taking a threatening step forward.
There’s not a single bone in my body that doubts that she’s fully capable of delivering on the threat.
Of course, there isn’t. It’s one of the things I love most about her.
Her cold-blooded ruthlessness. Must be why I don’t have the heart to tell her that if she smacks me with that shovel then she’s going to have no one to “drive her home.” The absurdity of the thought makes my lips twitch.
Hitting me won’t get Holly home. In fact, it would leave her stranded and even more lost than before. She needs me! She. Needs. Me.
“No,” I say, my voice firm.
Holly’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief as if she can’t comprehend the reality of me denying her anything. “No?”
“You heard me.” I meet her gaze head-on. This isn’t about my pride. It’s about keeping her safe.
Holly just stares at me. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, weighing her options, calculating her next move and I think it’s adorable that the same woman who can kill me is completely incapable of driving herself home.
She throws the shovel at my feet, the metal spade clattering against the ground. “For the sake of my sanity and your well-being, I'm going to pretend that you said yes and wait for you in the car. Don't take too long.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d do anything Holly asked of me without a single thought.
She says, I do. It’s what comes naturally to me.
She has this gravitational pull around her, an unwavering aura that draws me in.
An authority that demands to be obeyed without question.
But not tonight. I’m not backing down. Not on this.
She turns to leave. I grab her hand and pull her back, spinning her around so that her chest is pressed flush against mine.
Her breath catches and she reflexively places her palms on my chest. Every cell within me ignites. “Holly, my love. Someone just sent you a very concerning text. You do understand that, right?”
“And I plan on responding in an equally concerning manner. Now let me go and drive me home.”
My grip around her waist instinctively tightens, pulling her closer. In the dim moonlight, her pupils are huge, like the eyes of a cat. “If I let you go, do you promise not to hit me with the shovel?”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll just use my hands instead.” Her nails dig painfully through my shirt, and I feel them drawing blood.
Fuck. I bite back a moan. “Jesus, Holly. Can you please stop flirting with me for one goddamn second and think about this rationally?”
My tone is harsher than I intended, and she flinches at the sting of my words, surprise flitting across her face.
But before I can apologize for raising my voice at her, something else flashes in her eyes.
A spark of…approval? At least that’s what it seems like to me.
Almost as if she likes being spoken down to by me. It's confusing, but I latch onto it.
I let my gaze drag down her body and I’m surprised to realize how much I’m affecting her; the shallow breathing, the tiny shiver that racks her body each time my eyes meet hers.
If she wanted to set herself free from my grip, she could have done so herself.
We both know she has the ability to break free if she desires.
But instead, she stays. Letting me hold her.
“Someone broke into your apartment and laid out knives on your bed,” I say it slowly, enunciating each word for maximum impact.
She lets out a laugh. Well, it’s more of a harsh scoff.
“What's so funny?” I ask.
“You just seem awfully concerned about someone breaking into my apartment.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
Holly stares at me, unimpressed. “Theo, you have broken into my apartment. Not once, but multiple fucking times. You’ve taken pictures of me when I was sleeping, you’ve admitted to stalking me for over two years and…
God knows what else. So please, forgive me if I don’t buy the whole ‘I’m concerned for your safety’ act. ”
“That’s different,” I mumble, still holding her close to me. Still surprised that she hasn’t tried to push me off.
“Oh yeah? How?” Her fingers unconsciously twist a fold in my shirt. “What exactly sets you apart from this other stalker?”
“Well, off the top of my head? Charisma, authority, style.”
She scoffs again, harsh and disbelieving and I try not to focus on how her breath tickles my jaw.
“I’m not a stranger, Holly. This other person obviously wants to hurt you. I don’t.” My hand curls further around her waist, the tips of my fingertips brushing against the bare skin on her back below the hem of her top.