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“The fuck?” Alex says, walking over and crouching down in front of me, holding my chin as our gazes collide. “How the hell could this be your fault? You were asleep.”
“Yeah, but . . . what if it was the guy who’s been sneaking into my room?” I say, my hands shaking with the thought, terrified that if the Grim Reapers were to come to the same conclusion, my life would be in imminent danger. “Every night those bikers sit in front of my building. They never get off their bikes, just sit there smoking their shitty cigarettes. But Viper changed the rules. He got off his bike, and the only reason he would have done that is if he saw something, right? And when I was woken by the sirens, my window was open again, meaning my stalker had been here again.”
“Mace,” Alex says, his tone shifting with concern.
“What if my stalker did this, Alex?” I ask, the tears now streaming down my face. “Viper was here to protect me, and my stalker was here because I’ve failed to do anything about it. What if Viper saw him leaving my apartment and confronted him? What if Viper’s throat was slit because of me?”
“Fuck, Mace,” Alex breathes, grabbing my hips and yanking me off the couch and into his arms. I drop down, my knees falling on either side of his strong thighs as he wraps his warm arms around me. “It’s going to be okay, Kyah. This isn’t your fault.”
“The Grim Reapers might not see it that way,” I tell him. “What am I supposed to do? If I keep this from them, I look guilty, but if I tell them, I could be leading myself into an early grave.”
“I’m sorry, Mace. I really don’t know what to tell you, nor is it a decision I can make on your behalf,” he tells me. “But if I were you, I would use today to grieve. Cry all your tears, get fucking wasted if you have to. Then come tomorrow, we can work out a plan.”
I lift my teary gaze, my heart racing so fast it hurts. “We?” I ask, sniffling.
“Yeah, Mace. We,” he tells me, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple before pulling back, the sweetest boyish grin gracing his face. “You didn’t think I was about to leave you to face a mob of angry bikers, did you?”
A small smile pulls at the corners of my lips, and as his eyes sparkle like the night stars, I take his hand and lift it to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Careful now,” I whisper. “You’re gonna make me fall in love with you.”
“Good,” he murmurs, reaching up and brushing the tears from my face. “Because I think I’m already there.”
32
KYAH
It’sbeenonehellof a long day, and a terrifying one at that.
Today, I was a special guest at a biker burial, and if it weren’t for the fact that I was allowed to have Big Jim accompany me, I don’t know if I would have been able to make it. Alex was a firm no to the point I didn’t even bother asking if he could come with me, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to put Nat in that position. Hell, knowing her, she probably would have tried to jump in one of their beds and accidentally pick one who was already attached. Though to be honest, I think she might still be getting her rocks off with Sullivan.
Considering many of them already know and trust Big Jim, he was the most logical option, and he was honored to accompany me. Though, when the president sat me down and started asking me questions, Big Jim was more than on edge. But I swallowed the fear and told them everything they needed to know. Though the video surveillance from my apartment still fails to show anyone entering or exiting, so, they didn’t consider my stalker a viable suspect for Viper’s death. Hell, a few of them even questioned if my sanity was intact, but the good ones, the ones who actually give a shit whether I live or die, promised to look into it.
The rest of the burial was more of a wild party. Once everyone had said their goodbyes, they opened the bar and everybody started to fuck around. I saw club whores sucking dicks in the middle of the bar, men snorting cocaine off coffee tables, while some scrawny dude who was screaming about being innocent was duct taped to a wall and used as a human dart board. Which is exactly when Big Jim and I decided it was a good time to bail.
It’s been three days since Viper’s death, and since then, my creepy bedroom friend hasn’t swung by to pay me a visit despite the window remaining unlocked. Though considering the crime scene beside my apartment complex, it’s probably not a great idea to get caught sneaking around.
Despite the club’s denial that my stalker might have had anything to do with this, there’s something in my gut that’s screaming at me that they’re wrong.
I think about it the whole way home from the clubhouse and barely manage an audible goodbye to Big Jim before he drives off, making sure to hang around until I’ve entered my building. I make my way up to level three, and despite how desperately I want to collapse into Alex’s arms, I find myself detouring past his door and shoving my key straight into my lock.
Since Viper was found dead, I haven’t been able to stop considering the very real possibility that my stalker was the one to do it, and I haven’t been able to shake the fear that I’m putting Alex in danger.
I’m falling head over heels in love with him, and after already losing Crew and Viper, I’m not sure I can emotionally handle losing Alex as well, and I think he knows that. I’ve been pulling away, and considering everything that’s gone down, he’s allowed me my space, but it won’t last much longer. He simply doesn’t possess the self-control to keep away. And honestly, I think I love that about him. He knows when to push and when to hold back, and more importantly, he knows exactly how to do it in a way that always leaves me wanting more.
Making my way into my apartment, my gaze lifts right to the window, and I despise the little flash of hurt that soars through my chest at finding it closed.
He hasn’t been here, but why the hell should I want him to?
It’s been days since he’s been in my room, days since he touched me last, days since I felt that strange rush of electricity as his fingers brushed over my thigh. I shouldn’t want him like that. Hell, I don’t even know what he looks like, still don’t even know his name, but I can’t help myself. I still crave that wicked presence.
Maybe it’s the danger or the thought of being forced to put my trust in a man who desires vile things from me, having to trust that when he touches me, he’ll do it without force, that when he puts his mouth on me, he’ll only take as much as I’m willing to give. But most of all, I have to trust that if he ever grows bored and is ready to slip into another woman’s apartment, he’ll leave me with the ability to keep breathing.
I hate that I don’t know his intentions, but considering how quick I am to assume he’s responsible for Viper’s death, I think I might already know the answer to that.
My stalker is a bad man. He’s dangerous and capable of terrifying things, so why the hell am I still so wildly attracted to the thought of him sneaking into my room at night? Of him closing his mouth over my clit? Of him pushing his fingers deep inside my pussy? I’ve been dreaming about how it would feel when he fucks me. How he would feel. If he’ll take me rough and slam me against the wall. Will he demand to have me on my knees? Does he think about how it would feel to fuck my mouth? I can guarantee that I’ve thought about every possibility.
After kicking off my shoes, I trudge into my bedroom and slap my hand against the light switch. As I turn toward my bed, my feet falter, and my jaw goes slack.
The most delicious black lingerie set lays on my bed, and I suck in a breath as I take it all in. The skimpy thong and bra are gorgeous yet somewhat standard in sets like these, but it’s the black bondage-style harness and thigh-high stockings that make my breath catch in my throat. The harness clips around my waist with straps leading down my thighs to hook onto the top of the stockings, and while I dreamed about doing a boudoir photoshoot in a set like this once my tattoos were completed, I never got around to actually buying it.
