Page 8 of Like a Hurricane

How does that stunningly devastating face look now that it’s rested, and not scowling in every direction, like she had a personal vendetta against the world?

Unraveling this woman was a need like an itch under the skin. A craving dug so deep the only way to sate the need was to fill it. And she was the drug to light up my veins.

I gently lift a section of her hair, feeling the silky black strands catch on the roughness of the callouses on my fingers, becoming a little bit obsessed with how her soft feels against my rough.

Her hair was beautiful, a color so dark it could rival the night sky and long, straight and glossy that I wanted to wrap around my fist and pull, stretching out her long, elegant neck ready for my teeth.

God damn there wasn’t another woman like Arryn.

Bending slightly, I lift the hair I have in my fingers to my nose, inhaling the smell of her coconut shampoo.

And then I spend an ungodly amount of time watching her sleep, tucking myself out of sight so she can’t see me if she wakes, and I observe each roll and twitch of her body. She tosses and shifts several times, moving to her back and her stomach, her eyes remaining closed and yet she appears restless. Her breathing turns from even to rapid, breaths coming out fast and hard and then she just stops…

And she sits up, a hand clutched to her throat while her stormy eyes scan the room.

Smart girl…

My grin tugs up a little at the edge knowing she won’t see me despite her nightlight.

She looks for a long time, searching for that one thing that feelswrong. And when she can’t find it, she checks her phone left to charge on her nightstand and then settles back into her bed.

It’s only when I can see she is clearly back asleep that I slip out the door, pulling it back to the position I found it in and set the alarm, booting up the cameras again once I’m clear of the house.

I may be able to get through her security, but I’ll be fucking damned if I leave it open for anyone else.

Arryn doesn’t know it yet, but she is nowmine.

Chapter Four

“Sundays are sacred, dad!” I hiss into the phone while I try to find the other shoe to the nude stiletto I have in my hand, the dress hugging my body pulling taut until I hear a stitch pop, since I was contorting myself into some odd positions to try and rifle through the closet looking for the damn shoe.

I could wear a different pair, but the nude heels were my favorite and the most comfortable pair I own. And if I have to be presentable on a Sunday, I am going to wear my favorite pair of shoes damn it.

“I know, honey,” He placates, “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t require you in attendance.”

“Why exactly do I need to be there?” I shove a couple of boxes out the way, spotting the toe of the missing shoe. “Got it!” I exclaim.

My father huffs, “They’re investors,” He says, “They’ve asked for you to attend since you’ll be taking over one day, likely sooner rather than later since I’m not getting any younger.”

“Dad,” I sigh, the shoe dangling from my fingers, “You have loads of time.”

But my dad just chuckles, “When will you be here?”

“Give me an hour, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Arryn,” He sighs, “I knew I could count on you to show up.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, “See you soon.”

The line cuts off when I hit the big red button on the screen and sag against the wall. I didn’t even have time to check over the notice that my cameras went down last night before my dad called to request my attendance.

I’d woken to the oddest sensation of being watched, it had roused me like a warning siren blaring inside my head. But my security was top notch, and yet a niggling thought has me shoving off the wall and moving in the direction of the security panel. I open the log, swiping through the backlog until I see it, and my heart drops into my stomach.

Right there, on the touch screen pad attached to the wall shows my security system unlocking by pin. Only me, my dad and Suzy had the code for my security panel. Even with the stalkers I’d had before, none of them had been able to get close to me.

Pulling out my cell, I dial the company in charge of my security and get through to a woman who sounds bored and a little tired, if the groaning yawn is anything to go by.

“Yes, this is Arryn Lauder,” I say before reeling off my security information, allowing her to access my account, “Can you advise if there were any malfunctions last night? Between the hours of eleven PM and two AM?”

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