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Dragging a breath, I slowly count to ten to get myself to relax. It seems to be working because the numbing in my body eventually dissipates. I’m about to get up when I hear footsteps again.
What now? Is there no end to this nightmare?
Hiding behind the boxes, I freeze when I see a man who appears to be well over seven feet tall thunder down the shadowy halls. His hair’s whiter than frost and straighter than a sword’s blade. It tumbles from a prominent widow’s peak down to his waist and flutters behind him like the body of a ghost.
I gulp, taking in his black leather coat and leather boots and I’m envious against my will. I wish I could have something just as warm. There’s no shirt under his coat, just bare skin but it seems to be covered with something...tattoos maybe. His face is sharp and severe and I’m guessing he’s late thirties or early forties.
My hand twitches when I realize I’m inspecting him a little too closely. Why? I gulp. I guess it’s because I’ll need to describe him to law enforcement later. It’s obvious he’s not someone with the purest intentions.
The way he moves is lethal as is the way his eyes scan the area. His eyes are nearly colorless, like vapor and I cower to avoid him seeing me. He seems on edge, suspicious but maybe this is just his personality.
Peeking behind the boxes, I’m relieved to see that he’s not staring straight at me but his shoulders are still tense, and he sniffs the air. I go numb again. Can he smell me? Pulling my sweater to my nose, I inwardly groan.
Earlier in the day, I snuck into a perfumery and rubbed on some fragrance oil to cheer myself up. It was the highlight of my week but man do I regret this now. It so wasn’t worth it if it means the scariest male I’ve ever seen is going to blow my worthless cover.
I brace myself but he stops sniffing the air and turns his attention to the dead body. He gives the man a shove with his boot before saying something in a foreign language. Maybe it was a curse, sounded like one anyway.
I’m expecting him to be sad or angry, thinking maybe Leno is somebody he knew but then he pulls out a tarp and I figure he’s probably chummier with the giants who were here earlier. The ones who killed the man. The murderers.
Oh, this male is definitely not one of the good guys.
Since I’m cornered, I have no other option than wait for him to finish his business. Somehow he manages to stop the man’s bleeding and rolls him up in the tarp. Grabbing a bucket of water, he begins scrubbing the floor and his role dawns on me.
He’s here to clean up the murder scene. Cover all tracks so there’s no evidence left for the cops.
Shuddering, I stare while he goes on with his business and I’ve never seen someone move so fluently and effortlessly. He rises so fast, I barely get a chance to blink and then he grabs a bottle of something that smells antiseptic and drizzles it over the floor.
It looks like he’s painting a canvas and I tilt my head to the side.
He’s so...phantomlike. Like he’s barely there and just part of a fever dream of mine. I’d be surprised if I would actually feel flesh if I reached out and touched him. I wonder what he’d feel like under my fingertips. Probably like steel and my cheeks heat when I feel a ceaseless throbbing between my legs.
There’s obviously something wrong with me. It must be from the lack of good nutrition and good sleep. There’s no other explanation for it. It’s just not normal to be aroused by a terrifying stranger right after witnessing a murder.
But there’s something about the male that gets to me. In another life, I would’ve liked to have gotten to know him. Pinching my lips, I exhale from relief when the male gathers up his stuff, getting ready to leave but then I catch a movement from the corner of my eye.
We have another visitor and the male doesn’t notice. For some reason, I want to cry out a warning and I have no idea where this protectiveness is coming from. I don’t know him, I’m not going to get to know him but I don’t want to see him get caught off guard.
For some reason, I don’t want him to get hurt.
To my relief my male notices someone else is here and he sneers, turning around so fast his edges almost turn into a blur and he’s on full alert.
“Where’s Leno?” the newcomer asks and my male growls,
“Who the fuck’s Leno?”
The dead guy! I want to cry but I keep my mouth shut, right until I realize the newcomer has a gun behind his back. I’m unable to hold down a whimper, squeaking like a little animal and it faintly echoes in the warehouse.
Two pairs of eyes turn to me. I’ve been discovered. Then everything turns into a blur. My male and I lock eyes and it feels like I’ve been dipped in the smoothest, iciest diamond lake. His gaze is rich, desirous, adoring and he looks at me like I’m the only girl left alive.
We connect and intertwine but then the newcomer takes out his gun.
“You brought your female?” he snarls and I panic when he raises the weapon and points at...my male.
Terrified and without thinking, I shove the boxes to the side and throw myself in between.
And the bullet...
Pierces right through my flesh.
