Page 35 of Savage Stalkers
My stomach drops. “The guy from the coffee shop,” I murmur. “I broke his hand.”
She looks up at me then, and the fear in her eyes is like a knife to the chest. “What else?”
“Nothing else. I don’t hurt innocent people. Just the ones who hurt what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours!” The words explode out of her. “I’m not anyone’s! I’m a person, not a possession!”
“You’re right. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“How you feel about me?” She laughs bitterly. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you take your coffee with two sugars and no cream,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. “I know you listen to Teddy Swims when you’re sad. I know you’re stronger than you think you are, and that you’re terrified of ending up in a marriage like your mother’s.”
Her breath catches. “Stop.”
“I know you fake your orgasms with the men you date because they don’t take the time to learn your body. You crave danger because your life has been wrapped in cotton wool since the day you were born. I know you took off those pearls because you’re finally ready to choose who you want to be instead of who everyone expects you to be.”
“Stop,” she whispers again.
“I know you signed that contract because you wanted to feel alive,” I continue, leaning toward her. “Because you wanted to feel wanted, truly wanted, not for your name or your money or your connections, but for you. Just you.”
A sob escapes her throat. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know you’re still here.”
She goes completely still, her tear-filled eyes locked on mine.
“You could have run,” I say softly. “At the gala, in the garden, or when Kain picked you up. You could have screamed, fought, demanded to go home, but you didn’t. You’re here in this car. You listened to me confess to stalking you and you’re still here.”
“Because I’m in shock,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
“Are you?” I ask. “Or are you here because part of you has been waiting for someone to see you? See therealyou.”
She’s crying now, and I can’t stand it anymore, so I reach for her. For a moment I think she’s going to let me touch her, but then she jerks back, pressing herself against the car door.
“Don’t,” she whimpers. “Don’t touch me. I can’t—I can’t think when you touch me.”
The admission sends hope shooting through my chest like adrenaline.
“Then don’t think,” Zay says from the front seat. “Just feel. What do you feel right now, pumpkin?”
She closes her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I feel—” she starts, then pauses. Skye opens her eyes and looks directly at me. “I feel terrified.”
My heart sinks, but she’s not finished.
“I’m terrified because I should run away. I should call the police and press charges, then get as far away from you as possible.” Her voice breaks. “But I’m not moving. You tell me you’ve been stalking me for months, and all I can think about is how no one has ever looked at me the way you are right now.”
I lean forward, desperate to close the distance between us, but she holds up a hand.
“I’m angry,” she continues. “So fucking angry that you lied to me. That you manipulated me into thinking I was choosing this when really you were pulling all the strings.”
“Skye—”
“I’m not done,” she snaps, looking me dead in the eyes. “I feel stupid for not seeing it sooner. For not connecting the dots when all three of you showed up at the gala. And I feel like an idiot for trusting strangers.”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, smearing her makeup.
“But mostly I feel alive,” she whispers. “For the first time in my life, I feel completely and utterly alive. And I hate that the most intense experience I’ve ever had was built on lies.”
