Page 11 of Our Secrets and Scars

Owen spends the rest of the two-hour lecture continuing to make me uncomfortable and disregarding each and every signal I send him that I’m not interested in whatever it is he’s offering. By the time class is dismissed, I feel like I need to shower to get the feel of him off me, even though his breath is the only part of him to have touched my skin.

“Violet, wait!” he calls after me as I bolt from the room, but I don’t turn around.

I learned early in my life that as a woman. I’ll often be in situations where men make me uncomfortable, cautious, frightened even. I’ve been taught to be polite, to smile, and to act in a way that isn’t threatening to their ego or that could come across as rude. To appease them however I can to maximize my chances of keeping myself safe.

And it’s not that Owen did anything particularly intimidating. It’s just that his complete disregard of my obvious disinterest took me from being simply uncomfortable to feeling fearful.

Because, as most of us women can attest to, men like Owen can be unpredictable.

It doesn’t help that I can hear his heavy footfalls behind me as he rushes to catch up. My heart thuds harder as I walk faster and pretend that I can’t hear him calling my name. My eyes are glued so forcefully to the floor that I don’t even notice someone standing in front of me until my head collides with a hard chest.

Large hands grasp my elbows to steady me. And the warmth of them, though I’m yet to see who they belong to, bring me a feeling of calm that somehow manages to cut through the anxiety burning through my veins.

“Violet!” Owen’s voice is loud now, as if standing right behind me, and I flinch instinctively.

The stranger’s hold on me grows tighter, and I raise my eyes to catch sight of the person who is anchoring me so completely. Concerned eyes bore into mine, and my breath catches at the sight of them. Gray like rolling clouds in a thunderstorm, though they sparkle like precious silver. It’s a bewitching contradiction that makes me want to look away for fear of being hypnotized.

His hair is dark, almost black, and is short on the sides but a wild, untamed mess on top. The slightest stubble dapples his sharp jaw as if he was supposed to shave yesterday but forgot. I like it though. It’s masculine in an easy, unintentional kind of way. High on his cheekbone, just below his left eye, is a small tattoo of a crescent moon.

He’s the kind of beautiful that traps the air in your lungs.

It is physically impossible to breathe while looking at him. Not least because he’s imposing at way over six foot and built like a professional football player, but his presence is almost as arresting as his physical frame.

The expression on his face morphs from concerned to amused as he watches me check him out, a gentle smirk pulling at his full lips. He has me so enchanted that I almost forget to be self-conscious about my face.

Almost,but not quite.

I drop my head and stare at the ground. His hand reaches for my chin, but a throat clearing behind me has him gripping my shoulders and spinning me around instead.

Owen watches us with a twitching jaw.

My savior goes rigid behind me.

“Violet?” he says. “Who’s this?”

The look he gives the stranger at my back has my shackles rising. It’s pure, unadulterated hatred, so intense that it’s impossible to understand how he can feel something so strongly toward a man he has never met. It makes me all the more cautious of him.

I cast a glance up at the man behind me and find his silver eyes glittering with something akin to mischief. Behind it, though well masked, hostility stares back at me.

He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me into him, resting his chin on the top of my head. The smell of him, masculine like chopped wood, engulfs me and makes me want to breathe it in forever.

“Her boyfriend.” His voice is velvety, smooth as the most decadent chocolate, and it sends bolts of electricity through my body, awakening feelings within me that have been asleep for so long.

Who is this man? And why am I reacting so strongly to him?

Owen’s eyes narrow, contempt pouring from every feature, every crevice on his face. “You didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

I wouldn’t have been able to even if it were true with how he spoke at me throughout the entire lecture. But if he’d asked if I was taken, I probably would have lied and told him, yes, just to get him to leave me alone. But he didn’t. Probably because it didn’t occur to him that a woman wouldn’t be interested in him.

“That true, little one?” the tattooed stranger says, smirking down at me.

I don’t know what possesses me to do it, whether it’s the willingness to do whatever necessary to make Owen leave me alone or that the temporary attention of this bewitching man makes me feel desired in a way I haven’t felt since before the fire, I go along with his little game.

“Only because I was too busy taking notes, baby. Not because I’m keeping you hidden.”

He grins, and the hold he has on my waist tightens. I let myself melt into his body, if only for a moment.

“Oh, right,” Owen says, looking between us in both confusion and irritation. “Guess I’ll just see you around then, Violet?”

---