I grow still at the scene in front of me.
Two guys lie on the ground, their noses and mouths bleeding while they twist and wriggle in pain. Over them stands Jeremy, his fist bloody and his expression blank and freezing.
It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him this close and I almost forgot how absolutely huge his build is. His leather jacket stretches against the corded muscles of his biceps and the heaving of his wide chest.
I have no doubt that he’s the one who made them like that, and now, I wish I hadn’t stopped to inspect the scene.
Just when I’m thinking about the best way to escape, he strides toward me. I’m too stunned to move and he reaches me in a few steps.
I flinch when his hand shoots out at my face, but he doesn’t grab me. He yanks out my earbuds.
The loud music still reaches me even as he engulfs them in his big hand with veins extending from the back of it to his long fingers.
“Why the fuck—” he cuts himself off, then starts again with a more collected tone. “Who listens to loud music while they’re walking alone at night?”
He’s talking to me. Blimey. Why is he talking to me when he’s made it his mission to only watch me?
My skin heats and I think I’m hyperventilating. No, I’m sure I am.
The savage weight of his stare stabs me as he waits with growing impatience to hear my reply.
“I didn’t think—”
“You obviously didn’t think. Do you even do that?”
“Don’t insult me.” I breathe harshly. “I wouldn’t have put on the loud music if you weren’t following me like a creep.”
I pause.
Damn it. Damn it.
It was an unspoken rule to not admit I was aware he was stalking me, but I went ahead and divulged that I knew all along.
I expect anger, maybe a lash of his freezing coldness, but a slight smirk lifts his lips. “Like a creep, huh?”
“I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t mean what? The creep part?”
“I’m… I’m going home.”
“No, you’re not.” He clutches my elbow. “Since I’m already a creep, might as well act on it.”
8
CECILY
I’m stunned into long, thick silence.
And Jeremy uses the chance to drag me behind him. He doesn’t do it gently, doesn’t wait for any cues from me. He just digs his fingers into my elbow and pulls me along.
I’m wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, but my skin tingles and burns where he’s gripping it.
The sudden, nonnegotiable motion might as well be an ambush that strips away all my defenses.
I’m not used to being treated this way—stalked, manhandled, grabbed with brutal strength.
I gradually snap out of my shocked state and try to wrench my arm free.
His powerful, much bigger hand engulfs my elbow in a merciless hold, fingers digging further in the skin until I can feel a bruise forming there.
“Where are you taking me? Let me go.” I hate the tremor in my voice, the helplessness in it.
I’ve always prided myself on being confident and having the ability to conquer anything in my path, but this is a lot different from anything I’ve experienced.
Jeremy Volkov isn’t a person who I can stand up to and hope to come out of the encounter unscathed. He’s not an entity that can be dealt with logically and hope for favorable results.
The more I see him, the deeper I’m trapped in his night-like aura. Ruthless, heartless, boundless.
“J-Jeremy…” I purse my lips at the stutter and my skin heats. It starts where he’s touching me and spreads through the rest of my body.
He doesn’t answer me, doesn’t acknowledge my existence as his sharp strides cut the distance through the night. The muscles in his back are rigid, rippling beneath his black leather jacket.
It’s a fact that Jeremy is a big man, probably the biggest I’ve seen, aside from Nikolai. But right now, he’s like a giant animal.
No, not an animal.
A hunter.
He’s been chasing me ever since the initiation, and I was insolent enough to run away once and stop him the second time.
And maybe that’s what led us to this predicament. Maybe that’s how I ended up being targeted by the most dangerous man I know.
The one whose name is whispered in university halls, fight clubs, and the streets. The one who comes with gruesome rumors attached to his name.
The most prominent of all is how he makes people disappear.
My body goes rigid at that reminder. Maybe it’s my turn now. Maybe he’s had fun tormenting me by following me around, and now, he’ll execute the next step that involves getting rid of me.
“Jeremy!” I call again, much louder this time.
He glances at me from the corner of his eye, looking no different than a monster in sophisticated clothes.
“So you do know my name, yet you chose to address me as a creep.”
I swallow. He’s not going to let that go, is he?
“I—”
“Don’t.”
“You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”
“I don’t need to. If you’re going to blurt it out without mulling it over in that head of yours beforehand, then it’ll only piss me off further.”
My mouth opens, but I force it closed.
So he is mad.
It’s hard to tell when he appears angry all the time.
He tugs me forward and I stumble, nearly dropping my books as we come to a halt in front of a huge bike.
The same bike I’ve caught glimpses of him riding a few times.
This thing is monstrous, and I resemble a stray mouse next to it. Jeremy, however, fits the vibe.
He looked to be in complete harmony the last time I saw him on it. He had one leg on the ground, helmet on, and his hands hung nonchalantly on the handlebars.
Jeremy finally releases my elbow and I resist the urge to massage the spot where his fingers assaulted my skin.
He plucks a helmet out of the saddlebag and leans toward me. It’s really bad for my self-esteem whenever he’s in my vicinity, because the only thing I can think about in this current situation is how to escape.
One of my legs steps behind the other and I jolt when my back hits the bike.
I jerk one hand up. “Stop it!”
He swats it away effortlessly, as if it’s nothing more than a cardboard prop, then shoves the helmet on my head.
I try to resist and grab his wrist to push it away.
He pauses and glares at me silently, so silently that it’s creepy.
How does he not want me to call him a creep when he scores a hundred for the vibe alone?
The moment he stops strapping the helmet in place, my struggle stops, too. Mostly due to his glare.
“If you want to touch me, all you have to do is ask. There’s no need to play hard to get for it.”
Heat flares in my cheeks when I realize I’m cradling his wrist, fingers stretching across his warm skin. Now that I’m not fighting him, it’s like I’m trying to grab his hand or something.
I release him with a jerk and he uses my flustered state to finish strapping on the helmet.
“Can you let me go?” I ask, softly this time, imploringly even.