Which I realize is ridiculous. He’s just my bodyguard, and by the time I’m far enough away to make a new life for myself, he’ll probably have forgotten all about me, but I don’t want that. I don’t want him to forget me, and that’s where the problem lies.
In such a short amount of time, he’s weaseled his way into my heart, and now I’m faced with a similar predicament to a decade ago.
Leaving someone in order to save myself.
It’s different now, of course. Unless immaculate conception is possible, I’m not pregnant. I’m also an adult that’s jaded enough to tell myself everything I think I feel will eventually fade.
Nothing lasts forever, including pain. Eventually it eases enough to breathe through, and if it means a fresh start, I can put myself through anything.
Mind made up, I slip from between the sheets and slide the shoes I left beside the bed on. Once I’m standing, I search the dark room for my bags, finding them leaning against the drawers at the end of the bed.
Lifting them as quietly as possible, I keep my eyes locked on Ryker’s sleeping form, the rise and fall of his chest, the sounds he makes as he sleeps.
I move toward the door, slipping my phone into my pocket as I throw another look toward the bed.
There’s one thing I haven’t considered that makes me pause with my hand on the handle.
What if Damon is lying in wait? He could grab me so easily, and Ryker would just assume I ran away.
I’d be walking right into his trap.
But on the other hand, this is my only chance of escaping.
Once I’m back at the De Marco estate, I’ll have too many eyes on me, and running won’t be an option. Sure, I might be safe there for a time, but now the Lombardis know where I am, they won’t stop until I’m dead, just like my parents.
Because they don’t believe that a person’s sins are just their own, Salvatore thinks that your entire lineage should be wiped out if your transgression is serious enough.
This is my chance to start a new life, the only chance I’ll get, and that’s what I remind myself as I slip out of the motel room with one final look at the man that made me feel something for the first time in years.
I glance around the parking lot, but when I don’t find anyone waiting for me, I make my way toward the car.
Guilt eats at me when I remember Ryker will be stranded, but he is the one that hid in my trunk like a serial killer, so I guess he kind of deserves to be left alone a few hours away from home.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself to ease the ache in my chest.
I unlock the car and drop the bags into the passenger seat, but this time I take the time to check the back seat and trunk for any hitchhikers, only allowing my shoulders to relax when I find them both empty.
So why can’t I get in the car?
Why am I hesitating?
I swallow past the lump in my throat and reach for the driver’s door.
Delaying the inevitable only increases the chances Damon will catch me before I can escape, and that’s enough to get me moving.
Until a warm body presses to my back, trapping me in place. Before I can scream, a tattooed hand covers my mouth, muffling the cry for help.
“Running from me again, Siren?” Ryker murmurs against the shell of my ear. “Perhaps now is the time I let you in on a little secret.” He tilts his hips forward, pressing the evidence of his arousal against my ass. “I really fucking love the chase.”
A soft moan tumbles from between my lips, earning me a rough chuckle.
“Oh, you like the idea of being chased, don’t you, dirty girl?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Liar. You want to be chased. You want me to hunt you.” He says it with absolute certainty, and I hate the way my thighs press together to ease the ache settling there.
There’s something wrong with me. There has to be. Because no normal person wants to be prey. No one who is sane wants to be hunted in the dead of night by a man that could kill them without breaking a sweat.
