Page 2 of Depraved

How did I not see it before? His huge, muscular body had been obvious even when completely concealed by his black clothing as Bones. Rand has the same physique.

In our intimate moments, I even fleetingly compared my stern professor to my domineering masked man in my mind.

“Don’t be afraid,” he begs.

His voice is less gravelly, but he doesn’t have an English accent.

Because it’s fake. I always thought he sounded weirdly American.

My thoughts tangle, muddled in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. Nothing makes sense.

My gaze is inexorably drawn back to my dead stalker. His eyes are blank. Lifeless.

Just like Carter’s…

Rand’s hulking body blocks the macabre view, and his dark eyes fill my world.

“You’re safe now,” he rumbles. “He can’t touch you ever again.”

“I’m not safe,” I whisper. “I’m alone here with you.”

He reels back as though my words are a sucker punch. “I would never hurt you.”

I shake my head and scoot back farther.

“I killed him to protect you.” Rand’s—Bones’—voice is strained. “I would do anything to keep you safe, Karolina.”

“I have no idea what you’re capable of.”

His beautiful face hardens to a grim mask. “He pushed you into the river. He left you that threatening note. He tried to cut your throat just now. I won’t apologize for ending him.”

“I’m not scared of you because you killed my stalker.” I babble the truth without fully thinking through what I’m saying. “I scared because you lied to me. You’ve been lying to me all this time. I just…fucked you.” I stumble over the words, and he flinches. “I trusted you.”

“Ask me anything,” he pleads roughly. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’m still me. And you’re my Karolina.”

“Don’t say that! I’m not yours! How can I be yours when I don’t even know who you are?”

“You’ve known me for years. Please, give me a chance to explain.”

I shake my head and push to my feet, desperate to get away from the dangerous stranger who just killed to protect me.

My knees shake. Rand’s reassuring hands grasp my shoulders, achingly familiar as he steadies me before I can fall.

He’s not wearing gloves, but they’re the same hands that caressed my body on the night I agreed to meet Bones for the ill-fated, kinky hunt.

I’ve been so stupid. How did I not realize they’re the same man?

My naivete when it comes to men made me vulnerable to his deception. For years, I kept myself apart from any potential relationships, finding satisfaction in my carnal connection with Bones.

But it was clearly so much more than erotic fun to him.

Somehow, he’s followed me to England. He got a job as my professor.

I shake my head before I can ask him how the fuck he managed it.

All that matters now is getting away from him. If I allow him to explain himself, I might be fooled again.

His comforting hands are so tempting, his broad chest only inches from my face. I could so easily throw myself into his arms and cling to him for support…