Page 9 of Black Heart

He slowly withdraws his arm from around my waist and pushes off me, his lean, muscular frame rising in a fluid motion that hints at a disciplined rigor. I remain sprawled on the sidewalk, struggling to process what just happened.

I stare up at him with wide eyes, still a deer.

“Are you alright?”

The voice is low, rough like gravel under the tires that nearly killed me but oddly soothing, lending an unexpected warmth to this horrible morning.

I nod mutely as he extends a hand to help me up. His grip is firm and steady, easily pulling me to stand. My legs wobble, but he keeps me upright with another hand on my shoulder.

His touch seeps through my windbreaker, unravels my sweater, and all but hands my breasts over to him.

“Thank you,” I manage to stutter, my voice trembling as much as my limbs.

I’m acutely aware of his palm still pressed against me and radiating heat while his eyes stare into mine, dark and fathomless yet a startling blue.

How can someone’s eyes be both? Yet his are.

Being the center of his focus makes my cheeks flush. I take in the jagged scar cutting across his cheek, the tension in his broad shoulders clad in a long black trench coat. He seems coiled like a spring and ready to react to any threat.

His hand on my shoulder relaxes, and for a split second, there’s a flicker in his frostbitten gaze, like he regards me as more than just another wayfarer in this gray city who nearly got flattened by a car. I’m no stranger to people giving me a second look once they notice my different-colored eyes, butthis is new. He’s taking in everything—the curl of my hair against my cheekbone, the trembling of my lips as I try to regain my composure, and the way the chill has painted color across the apples of my cheeks.

His grip moves from my shoulder to my arm, fingers sliding down my windbreaker, but not before brushing over the dip in my collarbone—a touch light enough that it might have been accidental if it hadn’t been for the way his eyes followed it.

I watch him curiously, my heart pounding a fierce rhythm against my ribs.

An irrational fear that he could be yet another danger pricks at my senses, but I discard it. He’s just saved my life.

“Layla,” I finally introduce myself, a little breathlessly.

He withdraws his touch as if burned. “Be more careful next time.”

“I usually am,” I sputter, still trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. My legs feel like they could give out at any second.

He just gives a curt nod. I feel utterly exposed, as if he can see right through me. Nervous energy thrums through my veins.

“Well ... thank you, again.” I repeat because gratitude seems inadequate against the weight of what he just saved me from.

The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly as if he can read my thoughts. But it falls as quickly as it came. He glances back toward the road, where the car has vanished into the foggy ether. “Don’t make me do that again.”

He studies me for a moment longer before he turns away. One moment, a savior; the next, a stranger detaching himself from my life as easily as he entered.

I shake my head, clearing the haze in my mind. “Hey! What’s your name?”

He doesn’t answer, his long strides carrying him down the fog-shrouded street until the mist swallows him whole.

I’m left standing breathless on the sidewalk, tracing the space where he stood only moments ago. Shoving my hands into my pockets for warmth, I force myself to walk in the opposite direction.

The fog has slightly lifted by the time I reach Pulse Dynamics. Its imposing glass building reflects a distorted image of Greycliff’s oldest district, a reminder of how easily the new encroached on the old. I swipe my ID through the scanner and try to shake off thoughts of my early morning encounter.

Whoisthat guy?

And why does a part of me wish he hadn’t left so soon?

My grumpy savior was terrifying to look at.

And gorgeous.

It takes four hours and a long wait at Whispering Waves Café, as well as downing two salt spray espressos before his face becomes a little more blurred in memory, and I can focus on the day ahead.

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