Page 23 of Primal

Ahmad’s nostrils flare. He raises his fist like he’s about to punch me in the face, but a dark voice behind me says, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I freeze.

I know that voice. I’ve dreamed of that voice almost every night for the past three months.

Slowly, I turn and see my stalker standing a couple feet away, deep blue eyes shooting daggers at Ahmad. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, as usual, and he’s wearing his mask, too, but this one is smooth and covers his mouth and nose so only his eyes are showing. With his hoodie pulled over his head, he looks like the Grim Reaper in the middle of this complex.

Ahmad lowers his fist and advances toward Zyran. “This doesn’t concern you, brother.”

They’re the same height and build, which means whatever intimidation tactic Ahmad is trying to use isn’t going to work.

“Anything involving my butterfly concerns me,” Zyran says with deadly calm. “And I want you to try to lay a finger on her. I fucking dare you.”

I can’t see Ahmad’s face, but his back is straight, shoulders pushed back, and I can practically see the anger rippling off him in waves.

Heat pools between my legs. Seeing him standing there defending me is so sexy.

“Get in the car, Kiara. Make sure your friend gets home safe.”

Without a second thought, I do as he says and haul a half passed out Yolanda to my car. Once she’s safely settled into the passenger seat, I run around and hop in before putting the car in drive and peeling out of the parking lot.

When I look in the rearview mirror, Ahmad and Zyran aren’t there anymore.

CHAPTER 19

KIARA

I had to pull over once to let Yolanda puke, but she passed out shortly after that. The drive from Ahmad’s place to mine took about twenty minutes, and the entire drive I found myself thinking about Zyran. How did he know I was at Ahmad’s house? Had he been following me all night?

He’s a fucking stalker, that’s why.

After I helped Yo into the guest room bed, I made sure she had some water and medicine on the bedside table before going back downstairs.

A part of me wanted to drop her off at her house—and I almost did after I’d read the text from Zyran—but I would have felt like the worst kind of friend if I just dumped her there and left her to fend for herself. I mostly don’t want to risk waking her up with what I plan to do with Zyran.

I’m coming for you, butterfly.

That’s all the message says. Now, I’m sitting on the couch and wringing my hands nervously. The fluttering in my stomach is wild.

He didn’t say when he’d come, but I really hope he gets here soon.

My wish is answered in the form of a dark shape appearing to my left. I whip my head in the direction of the darkened hallway, wondering how in the hell I didn’t hear him come in.

“You came,” I whisper as I stand up. I start to take a step toward him, but I hold back.

“I told you I would.” His deep voice sends shivers down my spine. I swallow the lump in my throat.

He starts to walk toward me, but I put a hand up to stop him. He stands right in the pale gray moonlight shining through the cracked blinds of the window. He’s still wearing his mask, and those indigo eyes watch me carefully, waiting.

“Yolanda’s asleep upstairs,” I say quietly. He doesn’t respond.

I let my eyes travel over him, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. The image of Malcolm’s large body lying in the alley floods my thoughts, and then I remember that he most likely did something to Ahmad, too.

Have I been yearning for the attention of a fucking serial killer?

“Who are you?” I ask him again, for the second time since I first met him.

“Yours, baby,” he says quietly, deeply. The sincerity of his words and the intensity of his gaze set my skin ablaze. “I’m yours.”

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