Whatever nasty, creepy stalkers like him did.
That might have been too far, but at this point, I wouldn’t put it past him.
“So,” I said as we came back to the living room. “Candles and a note?”
“You want me to read it?” Vanya asked.
My stomach twisted, filled with anxiety and bile. I swallowed against the rising acid in my gullet. “Not right now. Just blow out the candles so the place doesn’t burn down.”
I heard the soft puff of his breath as he did, and then I smelled the lingering smoke as it drifted into the air. Bowing my head, I tried not to let all of this get to me, but the fact remained, Hunter had been in my house.
Walking to the front door, I touched the lock, but nothing felt broken or damaged. That didn’t make me feel better. That meant he’d likely found some way to get in without actually breaking in.
“Vanya,” I said softly.
“Yes?”
“Can you go check all the windows? See if any of them are broken or if the screens are popped out.”
“Yes, okay. You will sit?”
“I’m…I don’t know. I’m going to go make a cup of tea.” I had chamomile in my cupboard. “He clearly just wanted to freak me out, and I need to relax so I can think straight.”
Instead of moving to the other room, Vanya’s footsteps came closer. I braced myself because I knew him, and I knew what was coming. His hands—warm, firm, yet also gentle—cupped around my jaw.
His forehead touched mine, and he breathed out softly. “It will be okay.” His words were slow, each one almost punctuated, like they were a one-syllable sentence.
I nodded against him, then turned my face up. In spite of all this, in spite of myself, I wanted a kiss, and he didn’t deny me. His lips pressed against mine, urging them to part, his tongue dipping in to taste me.
He hummed in satisfaction, sending a warmth up my spine. Despite all this chaos, he liked me. He still wanted me.
As much as I didn’t want it to, it had to mean something.
“Go make tea. I will fix everything else.”
He was lying. He couldn’t fix this. But he could check the windows, and I could make tea, and we could sit together for a moment so maybe I wouldn’t completely fall apart.
Vanya left my arms with a reluctance I felt almost viscerally. Dropping my hands to my sides, I turned as the sound of his feet on the floor disappeared down the hallway. The path to my kitchen was familiar—worn and perfected by days and nights of stumbling as I got to know this place.
And my feet were almost at the tiles when suddenly, my hip crashed into something hard and painful. I let out a sharp oomph as my hand darted out to see what the fuck it was.
A…chair? My dining room chair?
God, I really was off my game. I felt around it, sidestepping the table, and I reached the kitchen. I grazed the countertop with the tips of my fingers, searching for the kettle, which should be right…
Where?
My fingers met with nothing. Air, wall, the side of the microwave.
My throat began to feel hot and thick as I moved to the right, but there was nothing except the sink…
And my paper towel holder?
That was supposed to be on the other side of the counter.
Panic set in. I reached for the cupboard in front of me, expecting to find my boxes of tea, but it was something else. Cereal? Cans of soup?
With a trembling hand, I brought down three cans, then reached into the drawer in front of me for my talking pen when something sharp stabbed me in the palm.
