Page 15 of Devil's Thirst

You.Maybe his answer was more literal than I thought.

I turn back to Isaac but have trouble meeting his perceptive stare. “Was that man following me?” I finally ask, trying to sound less rattled than I feel. I know the answer but don’t want to explain to Isaac that I may have a stalker—I just met the guy, after all. And even more importantly, an admission like that would stir up questions I’m not going to answer.

“I’d say so by the way he pulled up short when you stopped.”

I nod. “Probably harmless. The city’s full of weirdos.”

Isaac stares up at me. His assessing eyes feel like they strip me wide open, exposing every last one of my ugly secrets. I have to wrap my arms around my chest to keep from feeling utterly naked. I don’t know how he does it or why, but I’m about to make a hasty retreat inside when he stands and tells me, “Wait here.”

I swivel in place and watch in stunned surprise as he starts walking straight toward my watcher. Lightning fast, he’s suddenly moving at a dead sprint. The man in the hood catches on but not soon enough. He only makes it a few steps before Isaac snags the back of his sweatshirt. I gasp, my hand pressed to my mouth as Isaac clamps his arm around the man’s neck, easily overtaking him.

Isaac’s back is to me, his body between me and the other man, so I can’t fully see what’s happening. The two seem to have words. They stand in place but struggle against one another. I’m sure it’s only a matter of seconds, but it feels like time slows to a crawl. Then, in a burst of movement, Isaac releases the man only to pull back and punch him squarely in the face. The hoodie guy reels backward. I try to see his face, but the two are close to an alley entrance ensconced in shadows. I never get a clear look.And then it’s over as quickly as it began—my stalker fleeing into the night while Isaac strolls casually back to me.

I can hardly believe what I’ve witnessed. I’m still standing with my jaw hinged open when Isaac approaches. He shakes his fist a time or two, then runs the other hand through his hair.

“That should take care of it,” he says as if he’d sprayed for bugs to help with an ant problem rather than chased down and beat up a stalker.

Who is this guy?

Not everyone covered in tattoos is dangerous, but men like Isaac are the reason the stereotype exists. I get the sense he doesn’t suffer from the burden of fear like a normal person. He truly is half wild.

I re-examine him with new eyes, though it’s pointless. I still have no idea what to think about my new neighbor or my growing attraction to him.

“Did you seriously beat up some stranger?”

“You busting my balls for helping you out?”

“What? No. I mean, we don’t even know if he was actually following me.”

“Yeah, which is why he only got a warning,” he says in a chilly tone. “Not a fan of men who prey on women.”

Holy crap, that’s so freaking hot and terrifying at the same time.

“You’re bleeding,” I say dazedly. “If you come to my place, I have bandages.”

He inches closer, a smirk teasing at his lips. “Changed your tune already, have you? That was quick.” If it weren’t for the tiny creases in the corners of his eyes, I might feel the urge to slug him in the stomach.

“To clean up your bodily fluids, not exchange them,” I jab back at him. “Now come on. There’s no telling what kind of germs are getting in that cut as we speak.”

I walk to the glass doors and reach for the handle. His arm snakes around behind me and grabs it before I can. A waft of his spiced scent finds me through the lingering smoke remnants, and the heady combination leaves me breathless for more.

I don’t know what’s come over me. I’ve always hated smoking, yet it seems to add to his appeal. How is that even possible? What is it about his unapologetic lifestyle that draws me in and makes me forget who I am? It wasn’t ten minutes ago I was contemplating how dangerous he is, and suddenly, I’m asking him up to my place.

He did risk his own safety to protect you.

True. It would be rude of me to ignore such a selfless action.

Some antiseptic and a thank-you is the least you can do.

Am I rationalizing a way to spend more time with him? Probably.

Do I care? Not until the elevator doors close behind us, sealing us inside.

CHAPTER 9

AMELIE

We standon opposite sides of the elevator facing one another. His unrelenting stare roots me in place while his indomitable presence fills the space between us so thoroughly that my lungs struggle for air.

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