Page 18 of Like a Hurricane

Intricate ink has been tattooed into his pecs, a design of sharp curves and edges on one side and the other was etched with the head of a tiger, smoke and shadows surrounding the art. Across the ribs was cursive writing in a language I couldn’t read.

Mors vincit omnia.

I trace the letters with the tip of my finger, wishing I knew what it meant.

The past twelve hours have moved in a blur of motion, from dinner to the sidewalk kiss that ultimately ended with us both naked and moaning. I’d feared Everett would be like the rest, selfish, controlling and not worth a minute of my time, but I’d been wrong.

That man knew exactly what he was doing, and he did it with such precision, there wasn’t a single part of my body that had not been caressed by him. He used and owned me so thoroughly I couldn’t tell where I ended, and he began. He certainly did not disappoint.

He was arrogant and mischievous, a playful smirk constantly pulling on his mouth. I would have placed him in the same box as all the other playboys I’ve met over my years, but that wasn’t being fair to the man.

But something was wrong.

I’ve been feeling it the whole night, this tugging at the back of my mind that wanted my attention but couldn’t fully come out. It’s what woke me from my sleep. Soft light filters in from the bathroom where Everett had left the light on, and I realize for the first time in years, I forgot to switch on my nightlight. I was so tired it didn’t even cross my mind.

The dark terrified me, I never forgot but I did tonight…

My brows tug low as confusion fogs my mind. What was it that I was missing? I didn’t think much on the light, he probably just forgot to turn the light off before he came to bed but there was definitely something not quite adding up.

I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing next to me while my mind tries and fails to fully grasp the thought that initially woke me.

I play through the past twenty-four hours, starting from the minute I found Everett in the hotel and waking up just a moment ago. I replay every conversation, every minute of this interaction and then it clicks, and my heart gets lodged in my throat.

How did he know where I lived?

I didn’t give him my address and it wasn’t public knowledge.

My breathing starts to increase as panic overwhelms me. How did he know!? And then I’m thinking about the security panel, how it went down, and the convenient excuse made by the company. Could he have been here before? Did he know the code? The company?

Dear god, what did I just invite into my bed?

“Arryn,” Everett’s raspy voice sends fear straight through me. I scramble out of bed, darting for my robe to cover my naked body. I ached everywhere, was sore between my legs but I couldn’t focus on that as Everett sits up slowly, glacial eyes narrowed on me. “Arryn.”

“Who are you?” My voice comes out far steadier than I feel.

“What?”

“How did you know where I lived, Everett?”

He holds up his hand, “Arryn,” He starts.

“Don’t fucking lie to me either!” I snap loudly, “How. Did. You. Know.”

I could feel my hands shaking, my heart pounding so hard behind my ribcage it felt like it was about to burst right out of my chest.

He remains quiet.

“Have you been here before?” I ask.

“Yes.” He answers.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, “Oh myfuckinggod!”

“Princess,” He climbs out of bed, covered only by the white boxers he put on before we went to sleep. He was all hard muscle and honed perfection, a body that has been meticulously worked to be the best it could be. But he is littered with scars, old and new. They carve up his tan skin, silver, and pink marks in various shapes and sizes.

“Don’t fuckingprincessme,” I growl, reaching blindly behind me as if I could find something to defend myself with, “You’re a fucking psycho!”

“I’m a lot of things,” He replies in a calm and steady tone.

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