Page 24 of Devil's Thirst

A cascade of tingles like twinkling starlight trickles from the top of my spine down my extremities. I wish I could say it’s fear, but I know the thrill of excitement when I feel it. Isaac is trying to stake some sort of claim on me, and I’m not repulsed like I should be.

We hardly know one another.

He chased down a man on the sidewalk and probably broke the guy’s face. He’s covered in tattoos and gives new meaning to the word domineering. I should bepetrified, but there was no mistaking the cloying need I felt when his lips left a trail of scalding kisses along my wrist. The heat from his touch was so intense, I’m surprised the skin didn’t blister. My body’s responseto him isn’t normal. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I don’t know how to stop it.

My fingers trace the impeccable stitching of the leather seat in an attempt to ground myself. It’s a gorgeous car. Expensive. So’s the apartment he lives in. His finances are the last thing I should focus on, yet that’s what I do because everything else is so damn overwhelming.

“The car’s brand new, isn’t it?” I ask, taking in the exquisite high-end features. This thing cost a small fortune. Maybe even a large fortune.

“Got it last week.”

My eyes finally cut over to him. He’s devastatingly handsome behind the wheel—commanding in a casual way that oozes confidence.

“What do you do?” How does he make this sort of money? I’m pretty sure investment bankers don’t show up to shareholder meetings with bloody knuckles and ink rising up past their collars and into their hairlines.

“I’m sort of between jobs right now. Trying to decide what path I want to take.”

“You’re lucky to have that sort of freedom.” So maybe family money. I come from a similar situation, so I can’t fault him for that.

We arrive at our apartment building quickly since it’s not far from the theater. He stops out front and gives the keys to the valet service, who seem to know him well. I don’t wait for him to open my door. This isn’t a date. I don’t know what it is, but I intend to find out soon enough.

Tension builds on our way through the lobby, thickening exponentially in the bright lights of the elevator. Once the escape route of my apartment door is within view, I force myself to say what needs to be said.

“Isaac, I know I reached out to you for a ride, but you can’t read more into it than that.”

His eyes light with what looks to be amusement. “Why not?”

“Because you can’t assume what I’m thinking when you don’t even know me.”You’ll be in for a world of disappointment if you do.

“I know you feel safe with me. You wouldn’t have asked for a ride if you didn’t.” His tattooed fingers reach out to guide a strand of wayward hair back behind my ear. “And every time I touch you, your eyes dilate, and your entire body quivers with desire. That tells me plenty.”

I want to stomp my foot because he sort of has a point. “But I’m more complicated than that. And maybe you feel like you know me, but you don’t know everything, and I knownothingabout you.”

The glint in his eyes sharpens with ardent intensity. “Then give me a chance to show you.”

“You haven’t even told me your last name.”

“That’s meaningless. I said give me a chance toshowyou who I am. I’m not like any other man you’ve met before. I’m not easy to label or categorize. The only way to know me is to set aside your fears and expectations and see me as I am.”

I’m at a total loss.

How do I argue with that? I feel crammed tightly between a rock and a hard place because I desperately want to tell him yes, but I don’t see how I possibly can. He’s the sort who will ferret out every last one of my secrets. He’ll leave no stone unturned.

I can’t allow that to happen, which means I have to find a way to keep him at bay.

“I have to think about it,” I force past the rapidly swelling ball of emotions clogging my throat. “I need to go now.” If I don’t hurry, he’ll see me cry, and I absolutely cannot let this man see me cry. “Thank you for the ride. I really do appreciate it.” Ipunch in the code to my door and give him a quick smile over my shoulder before escaping inside, taking with me the snapshot memory of his face carved in determination.

I come fullyawake in the night, eyes open and senses alert, though I have no idea why until I detect that familiar sensation of being watched. At first, I wonder if I’ve had a hyper-realistic dream about my stalker. I’d been dwelling on my situation for hours when I finally gave in to sleep, so the feeling of fear could have stuck with me when I woke.

I lie perfectly motionless, straining to keep my breathing slow and steady while I get my bearings, but it doesn’t take long to rule out the dream theory. I can feel his presence in my bedroom like the touch of a heavy fog coming off the bay. I have no idea how I know, but I’m certain I’m not alone.

Oh God. What do I do? Would it be best to pretend to sleep?

That might make me look like an easier target. Maybe showing him I’m awake will scare him away.

Or trigger an unwanted confrontation. Maybe he prefers a challenge.

Adrenaline spikes my heart rate and coats my skin in a sheen of sweat. I’m not sure what the right choice is, but I don’t think I can lie here a second longer, regardless. I have to see. I have to face what’s coming.

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