Page 2 of Taken By The Wolves
“It’s good,” I admit, swallowing quickly. “Better than expected.”
“I’ve had one before. You’re safe.”
His gaze flicks to my blouse, lingering a moment too long. I shift slightly in my seat, the air between us cooling. He’s not subtle, but he is my type.
“You new in town?” he asks.
“Just passing through. Business.”
“What kind of business?”
“Furniture,” I say. My tone is clipped now, a little defensive. Something about his presence grates.Beware of strangers,my mom’s voice echoes in my head. She’s obsessedwith warnings about danger. When I was a kid, it was about men who would come and take me away with sweet temptations or maybe cute puppies. When I was a teen, it turned to men who were going to come to steal my innocence. In recent years, there have been warnings about men who will hurt me. Mostly, I’ve brushed it off, much to her annoyance. She tells me that I won’t understand how hard it is until I’ve had a child of my own. I haven’t told her it’s never going to happen. There’s a niggle inside me, though, a niggle that makes me wonder if maybe she senses something bad in my future.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Buying or selling?” He gulps some of the beer the barman placed in front of him. He must have a tab because he isn’t asked to pay.
“Making. I’m here to buy raw materials.”
He laughs, a low chuckle that vibrates in his chest. “You don’t look like a carpenter.”
My hackles rise immediately. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
“And what does a carpenter look like?”
The guy leans forward, his eyes leering and expression hungry. Call it intuition, but I don’t like him. I’ve met men like this before. Men who poke your sensitive places to get a response. Men who end up trying to destroy you in the end. “They’re usually bigger, with more facial hair than you.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” I take another bite of my burger to stop myself from saying more. I don’t need an altercation with this man in a strange bar in a strange town. I need to keep my wits about me.
I nod, still chewing. I wash it down with a long slug of beer, hoping he realizes from my food and my drink choicesthat I’m no salad-eating, mimosa-drinking wallflower. I wish I had the guts to tell him to leave me alone now. His presence is taking the edge off my delicious meal and leaving me with a sour taste in my mouth.
“I bet they can,” he says, eyes gleaming. “You, for example. You wear your clothes crisp and white, but I bet you’re nothing like that underneath.”
“What I am underneath is none of your business,” I say coolly. “And now I need to eat my burger. Enjoy your night.” I swivel a little on my stool so my back is directed toward him, hoping he’ll take the hint.
“Oh, it’s like that,” he says, laughing ominously. “I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”
I don’t reply and use my phone as a distraction while I chew a mouthful. Mom has sent me a message to ask me if I’m okay. Her Spidey sense is working in full force. I wonder what she’d say if she could see me now. She’d probably lock me in her basement and throw away the key. At least until my handsome prince comes knocking.
I type back, ‘All well. I checked in at the hotel. I’m having dinner.’ She sends me a smiley face emoji that makes me laugh. Until last month, Mom didn’t know what an emoji was. Now, she’s at the point of overusing them.
I don’t turn to check if the man has gone. I know he has. It’s strange how deeply I sense his absence, like the air around me shifted back into place. He never touched me, but there was an unsettling clash between his presence and my aura.
The burger and fries hit the spot, and the beer warms and relaxes me. The clench of anxiety he left behind eases. No one else bothers me while I eat, and by the time I’m done, the bar is busier and noisier.
It’s time to leave. I don’t want to be here when the night turns rough.
Sliding off the barstool, I tuck my phone into my purse and sling it over my shoulder. My thoughts are already with the creaky motel bed that waits for me like a quiet reward.
Eyes trail me to the exit. Men always look. It’s instinct. Predator to pray, desire disguised as curiosity. My ex used to do the same. Always watching other women, thinking I wouldn’t notice. He called it harmless. He accused me of being paranoid, then he proved me right.
My skin prickles, a warning wrapped in a memory, and I can almost hear their thoughts.What does she look like under that blouse? How tight are those jeans when they’re peeled off? Do those spiked boots mean she wants to be handled roughly?The man at the bar certainly thought so. He looked at me like I was something to unwrap and consume.
Truth is, I don’t know who I am when I’m naked anymore. With Kade, sex was a performance. Something choreographed for his benefit, full of fake gasps and gentle submission. I played the part. The demure girlfriend. The grateful lover. But it was never about me.
The first gust of fresh air hits me as I push through the swing doors. The sky has shifted into full darkness, and Braysville is wrapped like a forgotten town tucked beneath a dark blanket. The lights outside the bar are dim and few. I should have driven, but the night felt mild earlier, and I needed to move after the long haul on the road.
I head toward the lot, heels clicking against the uneven gravel, purse tucked close. It’s not far to the motel, and once I’m there, I’ll be safe. The wind picks up, brushing strands of red hair across my face like warning banners. I smooth them away with one hand, senses on edge. The woods flankeither side of the road, thick and close, their shadows dancing with the wind. Every rustle is a whisper, every creak a warning.
A twig snaps behind me.
