Chapter 23
My arms reach up and bump against the headboard, while my legs wiggle under the cozy blanket, and my back curves as I stretch my sore limbs. I let out a sigh at the touch of the soft sheets against my naked body. I don”t remember falling asleep naked, but it”s a pleasant surprise.
Wait.
I”m in bed.
Does that mean last night was nothing more than a really horrible nightmare? A raspy moan escapes my throat, and all the tension drains from my muscles as I relax into the soft bedding. The lack of sleep combined with the fact that he is lurking in the dark must have messed with my head.
I try to roll over onto my back, but something warm and firm stops me. Perhaps one of the girls crawled into my bed last night, scared of the dead dove and worried about another prank.
I open my eyes, but instead of one of my friends, I find his calm, sleeping face beside me. I shriek, flinging a pillow at his face, and push myself up into a sitting position, putting some more distance between us. Clutching the blanket to my chest, I cover my naked body. He grunts at the impact of the pillow on his face.
”What the hell are you doing here?” I ask in a raised voice as I watch him stir and pull the pillow away from his face. My heart pounds against my ribcage.
Pushing himself into a sitting position, he leans against the bed’s headboard. His left hand comes up to rest on his right shoulder, covered in a blood-soaked band-aid. Finally opening his eyes, he tilts his head and looks at me.
I ignore the nagging urge to ask about his shoulder and focus on his face: his eyes still drowsy with sleep, his brown hair all tangled and disheveled and sticking out in all directions. He looks almost normal, like any other guy out there. At the moment, there seems to be nothing dangerous about him.
”You don”t remember?” he asks, his voice hoarse from sleep.
I jerk back as he leans over to the bedside table and reaches for a small bottle of water; he clears his throat before taking a sip. With each swallow, his Adam”s apple bobs a few inches above a perfect, bright red line–the scar I’m responsible for. I chew on the inside of my cheek, my stomach fluttering as an unwelcome warmth spreads across my cheeks. There’s no need to look so damn good while simply drinking water...
I shake my head, clearing my mind, and get back to the matter at hand. ”You broke into the house, you threatened me, you fucking chased me like I was prey, and we–”
”Had sex.” He cuts me off. ”You blacked out right after, and I carried you all the way back,” he explains, and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.
It doesn”t make any sense. If what he says is true, he could have easily killed me last night. My mind is still clouded from sleep, the memories blurry as if what happened was just a dream.
”You had it that easy and didn”t kill me?”
He shakes his head. ”No,” he says, a lazy smile on his lips. ”I have other plans for you now that you are mine.”
”What?”
”Have you forgotten already?” he asks, ”You said it yourself. You are mine now.” I flinch when he reaches for me and takes one of my hands in his own, running his thumb over the back of it. ”You really don”t remember?”
The memories of last night slowly creep back into my mind. The image of him on top of me, his face after I screamed his name, and how he said he wouldn”t kill me as long as I was good for him. I watch his thumb move up and down, tracing the thin lines of my blue veins.
I look back up at him with squinted eyes. For some foolish reason, he wants me alive. It could be a lot worse; yes, he is a lunatic, but he is also handsome, strangely cute first thing in the morning, and he fucks me the way I like it. He”s exactly the kind of man I”ve been begging for years to pay attention to me, and now, here he is, willing to give me his attention without me having to beg for it. If staying alive means I have to play the role of the good girl, I can do that. At least for a while until I know what his intentions are and until I figure something out.
”I remember a little. It”s still a bit fuzzy,” I say, ”If I really said that, I”ll keep my word.” I pause. ”As long as you treat me right.”
The smirk on his face turns into a genuine smile.
”This should be easy. I can be a real gentleman.”
My eyes almost hitting the back of my skull with how hard I roll them at his answer. I then shift my focus to the band-aid on his shoulder.
”Is that the injury from my shot last night?” I change the topic, not wanting to put up with his antics.
”Yeah, but it”s not as bad as it looks.” I don”t believe him; men are all the same, and admitting that something is painful is a sign of weakness. And he certainly can”t show weakness, not with his reputation. The gauze is soaked in blood, and the brownish iodine stains are seeping through the fabric. It must be bad.
”Can I take a look?”
”You don”t have to.” But I ignore him and crawl closer, kneeling at his side. His eyes are glued to me, tracking every move of my hands as I inspect the band-aid.
”Tell me if it hurts.” My nails pick at one of the sticky edges. When I get a good grip on the dressing, I gently peel it off, exposing the bright red gash. It”s not very deep, but I can see the underlying tissue well through the gaping skin.
”You know you need stitches, right?”
”Yeah, I know.” He snorts. ”It”s just kind of difficult with just one hand.” His gaze wanders to the injury before he looks back at me. ”Do you want to help me?”
My eyes widen in surprise at his suggestion. ”I haven”t done it in well over a year. I don”t think I”m the right person for it,” I say, ”Are you sure you want me to do this?”
”It”s like riding a bike. Once you learn it, you never forget it. The first few seconds, you may be clumsy, but you’ll get the hang of it.” He nods towards the foot of the bed. ”My first aid kit is in my bag. Everything you need to patch me up is there.”
I nod and slip out of bed. The initial shock of him being in my room has worn off, and I don”t really care that he can see me naked. I’ve never been shy about nudity. We’ve also already had sex twice, so I’m past the point of being embarrassed to be seen naked by him. I also shouldn’t forget the little show I put on just for him a few weeks ago. My cheeks heat up at the memory of that night. I have no idea what was going through my mind at the time. I was horny, and I guess I wanted to feel like I had the upper hand for once. After picking up the kit, I climb back into bed next to him.
”Do you need anything to numb the area?” I ask while unzipping the bag and grabbing the small suture kit that holds everything I need: The needle, the surgical thread, and the needle holder. I also grab the small bottle of antiseptic solution and the individually wrapped pieces of sterile gauze.
”Normally, I”d have a glass of whiskey first,” he says. ”But it”s seven in the morning, and I would like to be able to drive back home today.”
”So, no numbing?”
”No, go on.”
”Then get comfortable,” I say, and he does.
He settles into the pillows, tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and focuses on his breathing. His exposed chest rises with each inhale and falls with each exhale.
After thoroughly cleaning the area, I get to work. My tongue darts out of my mouth and sticks between my lips as I push the curved needle through the flushed edges of the gaping wound. His whole body twitches once when the needle breaks through his skin. He grips the sheets tight, his knuckles turning white, but he doesn”t pull away even as the thread weaves through his flesh, pulling the gaping wound shut. It takes me a few badly tied knots to get the hang of it, but stitching him back together doesn”t take long.
The smooth whisked eggs begin to sizzle the moment I pour the runny liquid into the piping hot pan, turning solid little by little while I stir the mixture with the spatula. The aroma of breakfast, a mix of bacon, scrambled eggs, and freshly brewed coffee, hangs in the air, joined by the smell of cigarettes. I turn to face the dining table where Noah is sitting, now properly dressed in a black turtleneck and matching suit pants.
He is sitting comfortably in one of the old wooden chairs, with a cigarette stuck between his lips and a cup of coffee in his hand. He looks calm and content, as if he wasn”t the one who chased me through the woods last night like a starving wolf hunting a frightened deer.
He is a completely changed man compared to the one I was running from. He is still a killer, but he no longer appears to pose even the slightest threat. His eyes are fixed on me, observing every little move I make.
”Can you please stop looking at me like that?” I ask, holding up the spatula and waving it in a daring gesture.
”No, you”re just too damn beautiful for me to take my eyes off of you,” he says.
My heart jumps in my chest, and I feel a warm flush spread across my cheeks. I turn away from him and focus on the scrambled eggs. Once they are fluffy and done, I set the table for breakfast, including an additional plate for him. Pouring him another cup of coffee, I watch the brown liquid flow into the cup.
”Thank you.”
”You”re welcome.” I watch him put out the small remaining cigarette stub in the ashtray. He then lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip of the steaming hot brown beverage.
”Noah, don”t you think we need to talk about some stuff?” After I patched him back together, my alarm went off, interrupting our little doctor game and reminding me that I was in charge of making breakfast today. The only other exchange we”ve had since we first came downstairs was when he was polite enough to ask me if it was okay for him to smoke inside the house. Other than that, he has been quiet.
”Yes, but not here. Your friends could walk in on us at any moment.” He puts down his cup. ”We don”t want them to find out about your little secret, do we?”
I sigh. He’s right. This isn’t the right place to discuss our situation. Or I guess I could call it a new arrangement. His long fingers curl around my small wrist as I turn away from him, stopping me from walking away. He pulls me back; tripping over my own feet, I land right in his lap, and he wraps his arms around my waist.
”What are you doing?” I ask, getting annoyed with his antics. Looking at him, I expect an answer, but all I get is a soft pucker of his lips, silently asking for a kiss. I really don”t understand this man; how can he be so affectionate after everything he has done to me? Nevertheless, I grant him his silent request, leaning in close and planting a soft kiss against his lips.
”You”re insane,” I whisper, feeling his lips curl into a smile against mine. It”s questionable where my confidence comes from to talk to him like that. I should be afraid for my life and come up with a plan to get away from him, not mess around like we are in a relationship. But his calm and domestic behavior is easy to imitate. It feels almost natural.
He doesn”t get a chance for a comeback; a choir of high-pitched squeals interrupts the peaceful morning. I jump from his lap, putting some distance between us, and turn to the now open kitchen door where my friends are standing, all still in their nightwear.
”Eve, who”s that?” Lily asks, a curious but uneasy expression on her face.
I look back and forth between him and my friends. A lie, a quick and easy lie. Come on, Evelyn, you can do this. As panic builds inside me, my stomach churns and my vision blurs, the room spinning around me.
”My name is Noah Philip Holman,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist, his big palm resting on my hip as he pulls me closer to his side. ”I”m really sorry for showing up like this. I know it”s supposed to be a girls’ weekend.” He talks in a gentle voice, so soft and captivating. All I want to do is listen to him. ”Evelyn and I have been going out for a few weeks now. She texted me yesterday about the dead bird, and I got worried and came here right after work.” He smiles.
I stare at him, my mouth falling open and my eyes widening, struggling to keep my face in check and from showing my absolute disbelief at what he just said. The sad thing is, his lie is probably the only one that makes sense.
”Wait, are you the guy she met at the wedding?” Lily asks, the expression on her face smoothing out, and only her curiosity remaining.
”Yes, that would be me,” he says.
My friends begin to gather around us, and the room, which was completely quiet just a few minutes ago, is now filled with the excited chatter of my friends asking him dozens of questions, which he is happy to answer.