Page 4 of Lured By Shadows

Still, I stayed where I was, letting the moment stretch a little longer just to see where it went.

I nodded, brushing damp strands of hair away from my face. “Yeah, I do. What’s it to you?”

He exhaled softly, and something in him eased, as though he had been waiting for that answer. “That is… marvelous.”

Marvelous?

Who says "marvelous" unless they own a castle or collect human organs?

He shifted slightly, his gaze lifting toward the heavy clouds overhead. “Would you accept a ride? You appear cold. I assumed you were heading toward the university, and since the rain is likely to return soon…” He trailed off, letting out a quiet breath of a laugh before lowering his eyes. “Forgive me. I am rambling.”

For all the leather, worn boots, and silver chains, there was something else beneath it. Something less polished, as though he was more comfortable with words on a page than conversations like this. The slight awkwardness dizzied me.

I let out a small huff, planting a hand on my hip. “So what, I’m supposed to hop on the back of a fancy bike with a stranger? I may sound country, but I ain’t stupid. I don’t hitchhike, buddy.”

His brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering in those green eyes, as though he hadn’t expected me to push back. The reaction was subtle enough that most people probably would’ve missed it.

Whatever.

I turned on my heel and started walking.

“I got class, weirdo.”

“Wait,” he called after me. “Do I seem insincere in my approach?”

I slowed, letting out a breath before turning halfway back toward him.

“You sound like you crawled outta some history book and hopped on a motorcycle. Respectfully, who talks like that before nine in the morning?” I muttered. “I’ll give you points for originality.”

I turned again, ready to leave, not realizing how close he had moved.

When I spun back, he was right there.

Close enough that his presence overwhelmed me.

“Jesus,” I gasped, stumbling back. My sneaker slipped on the slick pavement, and I went down, balance giving way beneath me in the damp cold.

Great. Death by hot emo biker. What a humiliating way to go.

And before the panic even had time to settle in, the first thought that came to me was that he had moved faster than anyone logically should have.

2

Before I could fall, a strong hand caught my waist and steadied me. My breath hitched as I glanced down. His gloved hand was firm yet careful, his fingers resting just above my hip. A strange, electric sensation flared where he touched me, pulsing outward through my skin in ripples.

I shoved his shoulder, flustered. My cheeks were already burning from how much I liked the way he touched me. “Hey, watch where you’re putting your hands, buddy!”

He stepped back at once, both hands lifting in surrender. “A thousand apologies,” he said. “I meant only to prevent your fall.”

I felt as though I needed subtitles and a history degree just to talk to him. A laugh slipped out of me, rough and edged with disbelief.

“You always talk like that? Because if so, I need at least ten minutes to adjust before you say anything else ridiculous in that voice.”

He paused. “I do. Is there… an issue with my manner of speaking?” There was no defensiveness in his tone, only genuine concern, as though my answer mattered to him.

Issue? Sir, you sounded one bad day away from writing poetry with a feather quill.

He wasn’t faking, though. That much showed in the steady way he held my gaze. It left me wondering whether he was some sort of performer I’d never encountered before or simply someone wired differently from anyone I knew. And strangely enough, it was almost endearing.