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Run.
The word swirled in my head, and I tried to calm my breathing, judging the best exit points out of the house aside from the front door.
The spare bedroom faced the backyard, a clear path to a narrow road that led to the main street. Without another minute to think my plan through, I walked silently out of my room.
As I walked deeper toward the back of the second floor, I passed the narrow staircase and my gaze lowered to the front door.
I could hardly breathe from the pressure that kept constricting my lungs and the weight of panic dragging my senses.
“I’m going to count to two before I bust this door if you don’t answer.”
Ilias.
My shoulders shook from the hard exhales of relief that drowned inside me.
“One,” he counted, and I rushed down the stairs knowing he would be able to hear me nearing closer. Yet, he didn’t stop. “Two.”
I opened the door.
His eyes widened and looked me over before his gaze moved past me and inside the house. And all I could center my attention to was his eyes.
“Are you all right?” Ilias’s voice lowered, but his body stood alert.
“Yeah, you just...” I dropped my gaze to the ground and noted the large paper bag with fresh food inside.
“I scared you, didn’t I?”
I met the feel of his frosty gaze. There was no reason to deny it, not when his icy eyes softened.
“Where’s your car?” I asked, but my voice rose, sounding more as a demand.
Ilias’s eyes narrowed. “A street over, I couldn’t find parking.”
Nodding, I took a quick look back to the brown paper bag and wrapped my arms around me, calming my heart. You’re safe.
“I brought breakfast and lunch,” Ilias said carefully, and all I did was look at him in silence, focusing on the right now. Something alive and present to center me back to the world of the living. Him.
It was the first time I saw him without his black cap on. Blond hair waved naturally away from his face back to his head. The scruff over his pronounced jaw was a shade darker, and just as the rest of his large body, his lips were full, inviting. The denim jacket that rested over his broad shoulders highlighted the color of his eyes, as the white tee underneath brought his lightly sun-touched skin to life.
Ilias looked poised, confident with his own body and certainty to protect.
That was true beauty.
My emotions bubbled because of how far I felt from that kind of beauty, that kind of confidence I lacked. My feet took a step back as my eyes veered to the side, trapping the brewing warm tears. I didn’t want to look weak, but I was a mess. And all it took was a good look at him to understand how I never left the streets of New York.
“She’ll just be another life taken by the streets,” Tattoo had said, and he was right. I might be alive, but my life was gone.
“Hey, now.” Ilias took a step forward. “Come here,” he whispered. Then his arms were wrapped around me, pressing my cheek into his chest.
He smelled like sea breeze and sandalwood, and he felt like a promise—hope. Gripping him and the feel of hope tighter, I didn’t care about boundaries.
I stood in his arms until my breathing no longer ached, and the tears that threatened to fall vanished. Even then, I hesitated when my arms dropped to my sides and took a small step back.
“Better?” His slight smile was anxious while his eyes filled with uncertainty and questions.
With a thin smile, I answered.
“Good, now I need to put this food in the refrigerator before it spoils.” Ilias twisted his body and headed toward the front door, not waiting for my response.
