AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I could still feelthe tingle of Rook’s kiss on my lips as I entered Briar Hall, almost knocking into a student in my daze.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pausing to stare before limping past me to go outside through the back door.
Judging by his small gasp, I had to assume I looked like death warmed over. Or worse. I definitely smelled worse. The trademark lemon pledge scent of these halls was almost completely covered over by it. Ugh.
A deep silence followed me as I made my way up the long staircase to the apartment and something about that seemed off.
Was it a school day? No.
Sunday.
It had to be Sunday.
That’s why it was so quiet at this time of the morning.
Not like it mattered.
Numbly, I fumbled with the door to the apartment, shoving the key in the lock only to find that it was already open. I frowned, lifting my back straight as I twisted the handle and pushed the door in, ready for an attack.
The creak of someone shifting their weight in a chair forced me further inside, a lick of heat rolling up my spine. My adrenaline sparking but seemingly unable to ignite, its resources utterly fucking spent.
A man, unarmed, sat at the long stone counter on the living room side of the kitchen.
My heart jumped into my throat at the thought that this could be my stalker as he lifted his gaze to mine. Lack of energy be damned, if it were him…
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in here?” I sneered, picking out the knife block across the other end of the kitchen, judging my ability to get to it before he could stop me.
He was a big guy. Over two hundred pounds for sure, but much of that weight looked to be muscle. He’d be strong, but slow.
The big guy followed my jerking gaze to the knife block and back again, unbothered by my question. Unbothered that I was considering carving his eyeballs out with the paring knife. His bald head, partially covered in tattoos, gleamed as though freshly polished in the light and that’s when the finer details started to take shape.
There was a heavy black canvas bag on the counter next to him. Beside it sat several small plastic cups that almost appeared to be the lids off plastic bottles. Filled with blue and black ink. A tattoo gun rested next to them, and a stack of paper towels and a small container of petroleum jelly waited next to it.
“Diesel sent me,” he explained simply, indicating the stool next to him. “Depending if you want anything additional to the fleur-de-lis, this will only take about thirty minutes.”
I blinked, the reality of exactly what was happening right now dawning on me like a smack upside the head. Unable to help it, I began to laugh.
“Fucking, really?”
He didn’t look like he was joking. The man watched me with a wary disdain. Fuck, he almost looked bored. And my laughter didn’t seem to throw him off in the slightest.
“Sit down,” he said plainly, reaching for a pair of black plastic gloves in his bag to tug them over his large hands.
I shook my head, the laughter dying on my lips. “Get out.”
He lifted a brow.
“I said get the fuck out. Now.”
I couldn’t deal with this right now. When he didn’t make a move to leave, an ache formed behind my eyes and I pinched the bridge of my nose to try to ward off the frustration headache from getting stronger.
“Look, girl, I’m here to do my job, not deal with a fucking tantr—”
“If you don’t leave right now, I am going to slice off every one of your fingers and shove them up your ass.”
He had the decency to look at least a little put off by the threat, but he didn’t seem to think I would make good on it. Clearly, no one had told him about me. I was far from kidding.
He held my gaze for another moment before grimacing as he tossed his gear back into his bag, leaving the ink pots on the counter as he shouldered it and slid off the stool.
