Page 57 of Marek

“Jesus Christ,” Aleksander growls. “What the hell have you done?”

“Leave,” Marek orders, not even giving Aleksander a glance as his eyes remain locked on mine.

“Seriousl...”

“Leave,” Marek thunders, and the tone of his voice has Aleksander turning to me, his face stoic.

“I’ll come and see you tomorrow – if you need me, at all, you call.”

“Thanks for staying with me,” I whisper, as he walks out of the caravan, shoving past Marek as he goes.

When he disappears into the night, I look back to the man standing on the ground, still looking up at me.

“What are you doing here, Marek?”

He holds my gaze, but I’m confused as to what it is he’s actually here for. Shaking my head as he takes a step up,then another, I move backwards, the smell of blood filling my caravan.

“I killed a man, tonight,” he growls, low. “Because he came in and tried to kill everyone in this camp in an attempt to get away with stealing from me.”

My body trembles as I press my back to the caravan wall. Marek keeps coming in until he’s in front of me, not touching me but close enough that I can see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?” I whisper.

“Did you hear him scream, Ellie Mae?”

What sort of sick, twisted game is he trying to play?

“Marek,” I croak, shaking my head. “Stop.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

His voice has a slight shake to it, and something inside my chest lurches. I want to throw my arms around him, as delusional as that sounds. I want to, but I won’t. I made a promise to myself, and I have to keep that promise, even though everything inside me is fighting against it.

“No,” I rasp, and it’s the damned truth.

“Why?”

“Because I’m just not. Why are you here?”

He studies my face, his eyes dragging over my lips. I can smell the strong scent of blood, and it makes my stomach turn a little. Mostly because I know it isn’t his blood. He’s staring at me like he wants to kiss me.

“You want me to kiss you, even though I’m coated in somebody else’s blood,” he growls, placing a hand on the wall beside my head and leaning down.

I hold my breath, shaking my head even though my heart is racing so hard I can’t focus.

“You’re wondering what it would feel like, to have my mouth on yours,” he taunts, his lips so close I can taste the coppery scent of blood.

I don’t turn away.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“You’re willing to give everything to me, even though you try so hard to act like you feel nothing...”

“I’m not the one acting,” I whisper. “You’re the only coward here, Marek.”

He pushes away from the wall and turns, as always, walking towards the exit of the caravan.

The moment I challenge him, the moment things get hard, he runs.

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