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Abby
Ican feel my heart thudding louder with every step I take. I fist my hands against the urge to look back and increase my pace. Damn this semi-dark lonely alleyway. Maybe I should have listened to my gut and spared the money for a taxi tonight. Then perhaps, I wouldn’t have to deal with a creepy stalker.
He moves with practiced stealth, yet his presence feels too strong to go unnoticed. He’s been following me for a while, perfectly blending in with the shadows.
I stop abruptly in the middle of the empty alleyway. “I’ve had enough of this crap,” I murmur to myself and turn around to face the direction from which I was coming. “Why don’t you come on out here and do your worst, creep!” I scream into the empty street.
If anyone saw me, they’d think I’m a raving lunatic. I don’t care, though; I’d rather be perceived as being crazy than be terrified of an unknown threat. My not-so-humble request is met with a swollen silence.
Despite every nerve in my body telling me to take to my heels, I stand my ground. It could be anyone hiding out there. I’ve heard horror stories of rapists, muggers, perverts, murderers – and even soul-sucking witches. The last category is a stretch, but one will hear all sorts of absurdities here in New Orleans. Against my better senses, I remain in the same spot with my hands on my hips as I glare at my unknown adversary in the dark. The eerily flickering street lamp isn’t helping matters either. Even I don’t understand my strange bravado. But, for some weird reason, I feel the need to…engage him? The feeling is inexplicable. It’s like an invisible rope that binds us, compelling me to pull while he pushes.
“Well?” I taunt in a loud voice. “I know you’re hiding somewhere in the shadows. Who’s the coward now? Back the fuck off, asshole!”
I’m about to stalk off when I hear a deep rumbling sound.He’s…laughing?
I’ve just started to curse my stupidity when a huge dark figure appears from the dark like a magical conjuring. I gasp softly, and my heart froze in terror. He’s walking toward me in slow yet deliberate predatory strides. His eyes glint dangerously in the dark, making me think of tigers when hunting their prey. I can’t seem to move an inch, even when my brain is clamoring for me to take to my heels and run as far away as possible. The street lamp suddenly flickers on, illuminating his features for all of three seconds, but that is all it takes to stamp his face in my memory. He has glistening black hair that seemed tousled by the wind. His eyes are a piercing green color. His nose is slightly crooked to the left like he’s gotten into one too many fistfights. His lips are thin and firm. He has well-sculpted cheekbones that would give royalty a run for their money. These distinctly remarkable features combine to make a striking and undeniably handsome face. If I were an artist, I’d paint his face on an easel and make millions from it.
He doesn’t stop when he gets to me. He keeps walking, forcing me to back away. He advances slowly, his thin lip pulled up in a predatory smile, while I retreat slowly, my eyes opened wide in fear. My back suddenly hits a wall, and I gasp softly. I gulp nervously as the realization of my situation dawns fully on me. For all I know, I’m trapped between a wall and a potential murderer.
“I can hear your heart racing a thousand miles per second,” he says quietly, his lips pulling up in an amused smirk. His voice is a sexy baritone, deep, with just the right texture of roughness. I never thought the English language could sound exotic, but his Cajun accent added some kind of kick to the words.
A handsome potential murderer with a sexy voice…maybe my death wouldn’t be so horrible.
“You’re scared shitless yet amused,” he continues, looking directly into my eyes. “Are you making some internal joke right now?”
I narrow my eyes at him in surprise. How the hell did he know that? A mind-reading witch? That’s impossible…magic and witches don’t exist. That’s just one of the many gibberish notions that fly around her. The people of NOLA seem to think the land is steeped in magic and that it runs in their veins. I’ve never believed any of it – and I won’t start now.
“You know…,” he drawls, shaking his head at me. “I can’t seem to decide if you’re brave or just plain stupid. How could you wait when you know you’re being followed? “
“You will not insult me,” I say, glaring at him, even though my heart is thudding painfully hard against my chest. “If you were discreet enough, I wouldn’t have had to call you out.”
He actually laughed. “Feisty, huh?” he asks with a scoff. “It’s cute.”
“What the hell do you want?” I snap in annoyance. I raise my purse and push it against his chest. “This? Take it and get the hell away from my face.”
He suddenly grabs my wrist and pulls me fiercely against his chest. I gasp sharply. “Wh…what are you doing?”
“I’m no thief, girl,” he says, scowling at me with those startling green eyes.
“Wh…who are you, then?” I ask with false bravado. “What do you want from me?”
“Oh, I think you know me well enough,” he replies softly, emphasizing how lethal he really is.
I may be in more trouble than I imagined….
Now that I’m looking closely at him, he does seem familiar. I blink rapidly, trying to recall his remarkably handsome face. Then, like a light switch, it suddenly comes to me. It’s strange I didn’t remember him immediately, though…maybe it’s because my brain is all muddled with fear and… some elusive yet disturbing emotion.
I glance at his face again…one should never forget a face like that, but somehow I hadn’t recognized him until he mentioned it. I remember thinking he smelled like pine and earth the first time I met him.Freedom…was the word that came to mind. I also remember thinking he looked dangerous in his black leather cut, ripped jeans, and boots, but I never pegged him for a stalker.
“You’re the man from the office, right?” I ask hesitantly.
“Oh, we go way back, ma petite,” he replies, his brows raised amusedly. “Don’t you remember? You watched me jerk off and climax at the den of Eden.”
“What?” I blink rapidly in confusion. “The den of… What on earth are you talking about? I’ve never met you before,” I gasp loudly as his hand suddenly grips my throat.
“Don’t lie to me!” he snarls. There’s no hint of the lazy amusement that was playing in his eyes just seconds ago. “Did you follow me there? Oh, and Bones, you set him up, didn’t you? Did Anderson put you up to it?”
“I…I don’t…know what you are talking about,” I say, barely managing to get the words past my throat.
