Page 13 of Stolen
Just breathe, Jules.
This strangely beautiful man saved me. But I don’t know whether to thank him or run.
He’s justtoo much.
Tall. Too tall.
Broad.
Too still. Frozen in his stance.
A statue carved from smoke and silver.
He steps forward, and the air shifts around him like it knows to get out of his way.
Dangerous.
But not in the way that makes me want to run.
Not in a way that reminds me of the jerks inside, or the creeps who wait too long outside the bar pretending they’re looking for a rideshare.
No, this is different.
This is the kind of danger that pulls at something inside me.
A quiet voice that doesn’t scream,run. Instead, it whispers,watch.
Wait.
Want.
He’s not like the men I deal with every night.
Hell, he’s not like anyone I’ve ever seen.
There’s something too perfect about him.
The way he moves. Like he’s not bound by the same rules of motion the rest of us are.
Fluid.
Controlled.
Predatory.
That stupid question floats through my head, unbidden. You know the one.
Would you rather be alone in the woods at night with a man or a bear?
And every woman knows the answer.
Bear.
But this man?
Something about him tells me he could take on a bear and win.
With nothing but his hands and a calm, clinical sort of precision.
