Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Was it them?
Had they come back?
To make good on their silent threat?
I had already worked myself up into an epic panic when a voice called through the door.
“Siana?”
Siana?
Who the hell knew my name and address aside from, like, my mother and Kylo? I didn’t even think the other neighbors on the floor had ever asked my name.
“Siana, it’s Alaric,” he said.
Alaric?
I damn sure didn’t know anyone named Alaric. That was a name that kind of stuck with you.
“From the video calls,” he added, voice a little lower.
From the video calls?
The biker?
Alaric, that was his name.
My first thought was that it suited him.
The second was wondering how the hell he knew where I lived.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “I’m too late.”
There was something tortured in his voice.
And I was responding to it before I could even form a single rational thought.
I climbed off the couch, made my way to the door, and reached for the knob. I turned it before I could think better of it.
Then there he was.
In all his gorgeous glory.
God, he was even more handsome than I remembered from the hotel, than I’d seen in the poor lighting of the video chats.
His model-worthy bone structure, his light green eyes, his sun-streaked hair.
He was taller than I remembered, too.
I had to crane my head up to look at him.
And on that handsome face, I got to watch fear morph into relief.
Until his gaze moved down and took in the blood covering my hands, legs, and a big stain on my t-shirt I hadn’t seen before.
“Are you hit?” he asked, voice rough. “Hey,” he said when I couldn’t seem to force any words out. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said.
Those words, because I needed so badly to hear them, because no one had really said them to me, seemed to break that dam inside once again, making tears stream down my cheeks.
“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he said, reaching for me as he moved into my apartment, and pulled me into his arms.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alaric
I hadn’t even heard any footsteps before the door was pulled open.
Then there she was.
The first thought, after a night like this, shouldn’t have been about how fucking pretty she was.
But, fuck, she was.
Up close like this, she was even smaller than she’d seemed at the hotel. I towered over her. She had to crane her head up to make eye contact.
Something about that smallness had an even bigger surge of protectiveness building inside me.
When I could finally force my gaze off that pretty face, finding her glasses missing this time, and I decided I missed them, though, I was reminded why I was there.
Because she looked like a fucking horror show. Her hands up to her wrists were covered in dried blood. More of it covered her legs from just above the knees down. Even her white tee had a big stain on it.
“Are you hit?” I asked, even though I could clearly tell she wasn’t. Some part of me just needed confirmation. “Hey,” I said when she stood there, staring up at me with glistening eyes. “Hey, it’s alright,” I said, even though, to her, it clearly wasn’t.
Those words were what made the tears stop swimming and start pouring down her cheeks, her body immediately racked with sobs.
I’d never had such a strong urge to pull a woman into my arms before. So that was exactly what I did as I stepped forward into her apartment. “Okay, it’s okay, baby,” I murmured as I crushed her to my chest, one arm anchored around her hips, the other around her upper back, my hand holding the back of her neck.
I didn’t ask for anything right then.
It seemed like she just needed someone to be there, to hold onto her while she let herself fall apart.
The stream of tears seemed to be fed by an endless well, soaking through my shirt, and making her sniffle hard until, finally, the sobs eased, and her breathing started to level back out.
“Come here,” I said, turning her away from me, but keeping my arm around her waist as I led her toward the sink in the kitchen.
I turned on the tap, running the water warm, then moving behind her, so I could pull her hands under the running water.
We both stood there watching the red turn pink as it mixed with the water before sliding down the drain.
Siana stood there numbly as I poured soap, then sudsed up her hands, working my fingertips into her cuticles to try to get all the blood off.
Done with that, I dried them as she just stood there, watching.
Shock.
Clearly, she was in some sort of shock.
I reached for her again, turning her, then sinking my hands into her hips, hopping her up onto the counter, then grabbing bunches of paper towels, wetting them, and working on her bloodstained legs.