Page 11 of Stalked

“Do you… do you know why Billy was there beating the shit out of him?” the less angry one asks.

“No,” the angry one grunts.

I don’t like this conversation. I don’t want to be a part of any of this. I should have never dated Billy; I knew he was trouble from the beginning. And when he threatened me, I should have told Zion. Zion definitely would have made sure they never found his body again.

“Have Emilia look into him; I want to know everything there is to know,” the angry one orders, not long before the door opens and closes once more. I can’t explain the feeling, but I know he’s still here. But the feeling is different from a moment ago. My body was on edge, confused, but now, I feel safe. The same feeling when I woke up to find a paint brush, to find my apartment cleaned after Billy first hit me and I had trashed it.

It’s him.

“I know you’re awake.” His thick accent is there. It’s clear, better than the day before. Russian, and fuck he sounds so damn hot.

Peeling my eyes open, I sigh in relief when not only are the blinds down, and not much sunlight comes in, but that my head isn’t pounding as hard as it was when I first woke up.

Only when I finally take in my surroundings, I’m hit with that same mint and smoke smell. His hair is styled and slicked back. The suit he always seems to wear fits him well. God, he is just as hot as he was then, only now I’m not feeling nervous or scared. I feel drawn to him, and my cock definitely takes notice of his hands again. The one I still want wrapped around my throat.

“How do you know Billy?” he asks, his voice demanding and I’m weak. I’m so weak when it comes to men, especially this man. But what will he think of me when I tell him that Billy was my ex?

I must have been quiet for too long because the brush of his thumb against my skin, let alone my cheek, causes too many reactions. First and foremost, I hiss, the pain to my face, but also my cock likes his touch and aches for more. Just a little more south.

“YA ne lyublyu povtoryat'sya, no, kazhetsya, ya ne mogu sderzhat'sya, kogda delo kasayetsya tebya.”

I’m shaking my head the moment he starts speaking. I don’t understand what he’s saying.

“How do you know Billy, Little Rabbit?”

His thumb hasn’t left my cheek, the cool sensation oddly feeling nice, a shiver cascading down my back.

“He’s my ex,” I whisper.

His face scrunches up, a look of pure disgust.Why does he look like that?

“I don’t like the sound of that.” I’m not sure who is more shocked, him or me. My eyes widen at the same time his does. Only he’s quicker to recover, whereas I’m shocked to my toes in what he said, just not understanding what he’s saying.

“Has he hit you before?”

“No,” I immediately answer, before I realize that’s not quite true. “One time.”

“One time?” Oops, he’s back to being angry, only it’s at me. And I do not do well with men who get angry. I do the opposite, the total and complete opposite. I shut down, I get flashbacks, and shit… I don’t like this feeling, not one….

“You hear that!” Dan screams at me, laughing in my face. The sounds of my sister’s screams echo around the small hallway. I might be ten, I might be a child. But I know what they’re doing. I know what is happening. And no matter how much she begs or that I beg, they laugh. We’re jokes to them.

“It’s all your fucking fault! It was you! You’re the one who keyed the bike!” Dan yells once more just before Izel screams at the top of her lungs begging them to stop.

“I–we, no we didn’t. I–didn’t do anything!” I cry, fisting my hands at my side, hating myself for being born, hating that I’m the reason she’s going through all this. I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t ask our mother to cheat on Dan, to get pregnant. I didn’t ask for any of this.

“It’s your fault I’m so fucking angry!”

“Shhh, come on, Little Rabbit.” That accent floats back to me, bringing me back. Heavy breaths reach my ear, wondering who's breathing so heavy, only to realize it’s me. I’m the one who's breathing so hard. “That’s it, come back,” he coos, the cool touch of his hand brushing my hair from my face.

“I–I’m sorry,” I croak out, hating the break in my voice. And hating even more he’s witnessing my panic attack. Izel and Zion are the only ones who see them, and usually it’s Izel who has to bring me back.

“Don’tapologize.” His voice once again sounds angry, and I can’t afford to have another flashback. I can’t, not with him right here.

“Billy,” I mumble, trying to go back to our previous conversation.

He growls again, and I grit my teeth.

“Yes, him. He’s only hit me once, once before…”

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