Page 6 of Some Like it Violent

His gaze hadn’t left me, and his focus was so dark and unyielding, so intense and trained right on me, that it had every instinct in my body screaming to run. But he was between me and my escape, his massive frame filling the entire doorway. He towered over everything in the shadowy light, and I took a shaky breath.

“You’re blocking me from going to the bathroom to change,” I whispered, my voice trembling. When he didn’t move, I gestured toward the bathroom door behind him.

For long seconds, he didn’t move, but then he slowly shook his head and grunted out, “No. You can change right here.”

My heart hammered inside my chest, and I started shaking my head, but I knew it was futile. He’d make me do whatever he wanted. There was no point in arguing or trying to fight this, not if I wanted any chance of making it out alive.

I didn’t need him to say anything other than that unyielding “no” at the beginning of his response for me to understand that the power and control he wielded was absolute. Swallowinghard, I waited just a second to see if he’d change his mind, show mercy, and let me change in private. When he didn’t move, I turned around, my back to him, and forced myself to get dressed in front of him. At least, I could hide beneath the towel as I did it.

I looked at the window, but the damn thing was painted shut—something I’d been meaning to fix. I was now cursing myself for not doing it sooner because I couldn’t even escape out of it if I tried.

Closing my eyes, I bent forward to step into my panties, struggling to keep the towel up by pressing it between my upper arms and my sides when it came undone. As I slid my underwear up my legs, I lost my grip, and the towel dropped to the floor. But I couldn’t catch it and pull my panties up to cover my ass at the same time.

The cool air prickled over my skin and caused me to shiver even though I could feel his gaze burning right through me. He was undeniably taking every inch of my exposed body in with his very predatory stare.

I’d never gotten dressed so quickly in my life, and when I only had my shirt left to put on, I glanced over my shoulder. I wasn’t surprised to see his eyes were pinned on me. I’d felt him watching me the whole time, but seeing his laser-like focus on me made me even more uneasy.

His expression was one of raw, undisguised hunger, and that terrified the hell out of me. If his clothes were anything to go by, he was an escaped convict. How long had it been since he’d been with—or even seen—a woman?

I forced myself to keep dressing, and once my shirt was on, I turned around to face him, still wanting to cover myself more from his attention.

Fear coiled in every part of my body, and he hadn’t even hurt me—at least, not yet.

I’d never felt as vulnerable as I did at this moment. When he smirked, I felt something tingle and move through me—something very much inappropriate considering the circumstances. His immense body cast an imposing shadow across the room, and even with the distance between us, I felt the raw, dangerous energy radiating off of him and surrounding me.

“Sit there.” He gestured for me to sit on the edge of the bed, and there was no way I was going to fight his command. His dominance was undeniable.

When I sat on the edge, I clutched the comforter as if it would protect me or maybe be my anchor.

“I’ll just be blunt because there’s no fucking point in me trying to calm your nerves.” He stared down at me, his enormous arms crossed over his chest and making his biceps look even more massive.

I didn't respond. I just sat there like a good, little captive who wanted to live and listened to what he said.

“I’m Kane Richter, and I need a place to lie low where no one will think to look for me. Lucky for me, I found you.”

I glanced around my small, candlelit room. “Here?” The lone word came out strained but soft.

“That’s right.” He smirked again, but it held no amusement. It was purely sinister. His voice was a low growl when he asked, “What’s your name?”

I swallowed hard, trying like hell to piece together the reality of my fucked-up situation. He noticed me checking out his prison garb, and a dangerous sound left him. Keeping my name from him was pointless because he probably already knew what it was. He likely went through my shit downstairs while I was in the shower, just as he had my clothes.

“Evelina,” I finally said, giving him what he wanted.

He was a criminal, and now he was here, using me—well, my home—as his refuge. My heart thudded wildly in my chest as he took a step closer, his laser-like gaze unrelenting.

“W-What did you do to get locked up?” The words spilled out of me before I could filter them. I felt my eyes widen, heard my voice tremble despite my best effort to sound strong.

His eyes glinted with something cold and dark as he stared right into mine, maybe thinking about how to answer… or which way to kill me.

And then he sobered, any small expression on his face disappearing so all that showed was indifference.

“They say I’m a psychopath,” he said, his tone flat and cold. He spoke as if he were commenting on the weather.

The sane and rational part of me said he was full of shit. Because who would admit to that?

“I kill, little girl. And I fucking like it. It gets me off.”

I gasped and squeezed the comforter so tightly my knuckles popped. Something in that explanation, the words and how he said them, made me instantly believe him, putting my former doubt to rest. And the more he went on, the more I understood he spoke nothing but the truth.

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