Page 7 of ’Til You Break

He slipped out without saying anything. It shouldn’t upset me, but it does.

I walk back to my bedroom, my head hanging low. Guess I’ll have to try again later.

***

I cried from the moment I fell onto my new bed until teary-eyed exhaustion whisked me into a turbulent slumber. Now, enough hours have passed that a swollen full moon has replaced the sun, lighting my room through the still-open curtains. It’s beautiful, and an ethereal glow washes over me like a blanket of reassurance.

However, my body has other plans than just enjoying the moment. With a loud, desperate rumbling, my belly announces its hunger. The sound of it would convince anyone that it’s starving.

I leave my room and see the kitchen light is on at the end of the corridor. That can only mean Vik’s home. My pulse starts racing. I can’t decide if it’s from anxiety about sleeping the day away or from the exciting thought of seeing him again.

The kitchen is empty, but I hear movement from the laundry room behind it. There is grunting, the sound of heaving and cupboards slamming, and a general air of annoyance with every action.

Ah shit, he’s had a bad day.

“Hey, Vik,” I say, fending off the shiver in my voice. I don’t want him to think I heard anything. If I pretend everything’s all right, he might pretend the same.

“Hannah.” His voice is bone-chillingly cold.

I step out from behind the island that separates me from the kitchen, cautiously.

“I’m gonna make something to eat. Would you like to join m—”

Vik steps out of the laundry room before I can finish my question. The action shouldn’t be enough to knock the words out of my mouth, but it does. Vik is not wearing a full suit and tie as I expected. He’s standing in nothing but a pair of black boxers that hug his densely muscular thighs.

However, it’s not his thighs that catch my attention. It’s the bulging package straining against the front of his underwear. I’d gasp if it wasn’t so damn awkward already. Of course, him walking around half-naked isn’t a problem, per se. I’m in his house after all and he shouldn’t feel he has to change his habits for me, but seeing him like this is wrong.

Especially since I’m locked onto parts I should never see.

The rest of his body is a great distraction, though. His broad shoulders, thick muscular chest, and sharply defined six-pack are a lot to take in. His defined muscles are the canvas for a myriad of tattoos that stretch over his pecs and down his right arm. Without seeing it, I can tell his back is also littered with them.

God, get a grip.

I have to fight to stay focused on his face instead of the inked body he usually keeps hidden beneath several layers of clothing. But, as soon as I meet his gaze, I regret it more than ogling the rest of him. His stone-cold face doesn’t give anything away, but his blue eyes are burning with fury.

“What did you say?” he asks, stepping closer to me.

And with that, my head instinctively drops. Not to stare at him, but from nervousness. That’s when I notice that his artwork acts as a cover for old scars beneath the tattoos. Scars from cuts and scrapes that no one should have in such abundance.

There’s one place in particular, square in the middle of his chest, where jagged scars circle a long, surgical cut.

“You hungry?” I ask meekly, as I tilt my head to the side. “Want something to eat?”

He stops walking, inches away from me, and his hand moves up to my face slowly. He presses his palm against my cheek, guiding my face back to his.

My heart skips a beat on the first contact, and my unease is amplified by a strange, familiar scent that I never expected to smell on him. It’s coppery, stale, and unpleasant.

“Not yet,” he says. The corner of his mouth twitches before he turns and leaves.

I have no time to wonder why he chose those words, and not not now, not tonight, or whatever else he might be famished for.

All I can do is wonder why Vik smells like blood.

Chapter Four

Vik

She was sleeping when I came in.