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Would Donavan actually follow through? Would he have pulled the trigger if Blaine, Rick, and Landon hadn’t acted the way he told them to?
A slow smile spreads across my face because I know the answer without having to think about it very long. He doesn’t want me dead. He didn’t so much as issue a threat when I hit him earlier today. He’s all bark no bite, and unlucky for him, I desperately need to feel his teeth on my skin.
My body reacts to his threat of violence in ways that it shouldn’t. Instead of shaking or cowering, a rush of arousal hits me when I think about the cold metal that was pressed to my skin last night.
The heat of his body—twice my size—and the damage he could cause thrills me in ways I never thought imaginable.
Even as the cheers and shouts of purple-and-black, voices filled with school spirit, echo around me, I find myself still searching the shadows, praying he’s hidden somewhere in the darkness, waiting to hurt me again.
Chapter 10
Donavan
Most people can feel someone following them. I’d say nine out of ten people have that instinct inside of them that warns them they’re in danger. I imagine it’s one of those things left over from when we as a species were more animal than human, and it was a requirement to staying alive.
It’s happened to every one of us, the urge to run when those tiny hairs stick up on the back of your neck, warning you of impending danger.
Alani is a different breed. The second after she freezes, her eyes darting to the shadows, a slow smile spreads out across her face.
She can feel me following her, but instead of running, she walks slower. Instead of staying inside her dorm at night, she ventures outside into the darkness as if challenging me to step out from the shadows.
The woman doesn’t have an ounce of self-preservation, and it’s starting to drive me fucking crazy.
I’ve been following her off and on for weeks, leaving town for a few days when I get sent out on a job. Instead of going back to the small apartment I rent over the hardware store back in Mission, Texas, I find myself a couple hours north in Lindell, keeping my distance but also keeping my eyes on her.
It’s not nights like tonight that drive me insane. It’s knowing she’s putting herself at risk when I’m not lurking in the shadows.
Silence from Cortez’s crew means nothing. They’re probably getting their shit together after taking such a hit to their organization weeks ago when Nash and Ayla were pulled from that hell they’d been in. Thinking they’ve given up on the younger Warren sister would be a huge mistake. If anything, they’re biding their time until she’s able to breathe a sigh of relief, and then they’ll make their move. Scaring and traumatizing the women they take is as much a part of the thrill as putting them to work is.
I don’t care that Angel claims to have his sights on Raul Cortez. It doesn’t mean shit to me that the threat to Alani is low. Any threat makes my skin crawl, and Cortez and his crew aren’t the only ones capable of causing the woman harm. There’s no shortage of predators and sick fucks that could see her wandering around alone and decide to take advantage of the clear situation she’s all but offering them.
I haven’t stepped out of the darkness once since she walked away with that Cerberus member the night of the bonfire, although I’ve been tempted to more times than I can count. She needs to be taught a lesson, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to be the one to do it.
I consider letting someone grab her, rough her up a little so she’ll fucking learn, but I know I’ll rip anyone limb from fucking limb if they even look at her wrong.
It’s what stops me every time I get the urge to make my presence known other than that feeling she gets in her gut when I trail her. I shouldn’t want anything from anyone. I went years without needing anything other than to make some money and shed blood.
She went to Nash and Ayla’s place two weekends ago, and as happy as I was to have a break, I found myself hovering on the edge of his property. She showed up late Friday afternoon and never reemerged until late Sunday evening when she drove back to campus.
I hated the way my skin itched that entire weekend, being so close yet unable to set my eyes on her.
I refuse to think about the way Nash asked me to fucking dinner at the office on Friday like he suspects I haven’t been able to keep away from her. I consider that I may be watching Alani, but he may have someone watching me.
