Page 88 of His To Erase
He shrugs.
Okay…because saving me from a back-alley murder attempt and peeling me out of my bloody clothes was just some casual Tuesday cardio. Like I’m the one being dramatic.
“You were bleeding,” he says, keeping his voice maddeningly calm. “Didn’t seem like you were in the mood to call an Uber.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You could’ve taken me to a hospital.”
“Could’ve, yeah.” His lips twitch. “But I wasn’t in the mood for answering questions.”
That shuts me up for exactly one beat. Because what the actual fuck. He drops into the chair across from the bed, arms draped over his knees like this is just some casual little chat. Still shirtless. Still smug. And still the exact kind of danger I should be running from—if I could run.
My gaze flicks to the tattoos again.
Mistake.
“What the fuck were you doing in that alley?”
I blink. “Taking out the trash and going home. What did it look like I was doing?”
“Alone?”
“Glad you were paying attention.”
His jaw ticks. That cool, untouchable mask of his slips—just for a breath—before snapping back like it never moved.
“Are you always this reckless?”
“Are you always this obsessed?” I shoot back. “You’ve got a real problem with following me. You know that, right?”
He tilts his head like I’m amusing. “You were bleeding in the street.”
“Yeah, and now I’m bleeding in a stranger’s bed.” I hiss the words. “That’s not creepy at all.”
“You’re not bleeding anymore.”
“And you’re still a fucking asshole.”
He leans back in the chair, smiling like he wants to carve his name into somewhere I’ll never wash it off, then watches me like he’s memorizing every twitch of my face just to use it against me later.
“You gonna tell me who that guy was?”
“Why? Are you jealous?” I smile—regretting it the second his expression changes.
His eyes go dark. “If I was,” he says slowly, “he’d be dead already.”
My breath catches, but I cover it with a smirk. “Charming.”
He stands up and I flinch—just a little, barely more than a blink—but he sees it and freezes.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Ani.”
My stomach coils with the way he says my name.
Wait.How does he know my name?
I glare, breathing hard through the pain. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
His jaw tightens. That faint tick again—like it wants to say something, but won’t. And then he stalks closer and every instinct in my body screams run.
