Page 11 of Savage Don

This isn’t a face I recognize.

… But it isn’t a face I want to run from, either. Not yet.

A conflicting dread twists in my gut as the handsome stranger approaches.

There’s a ferocious dignity to him. An air of almost noble savagery. He has salt and pepper hair—slicked back on top and worn in well-kept stubble around his chiselled jaw. His strides are long and purposeful, and his deep dark eyes pull me towards him, no matter how badly I want to back away.

He’s older, but he moves like a panther in his prime.

Those eyes hold me in their gaze and command me not to move.

I listen.

But not because I’m scared.

It’s because I’m strangely interested. Curious.

Aroused.

Fuck me.

He’s hot.

2

Ray

“Here, let me help you.”

Crouching down, I start to collect the books that Francesca dropped at the sight of me.

“Uh, no… please… sorry… It’s fine,” she stumbles, quickly bending down to help me pick up her fallen textbooks.

“These things are expensive, you know,” I smile, purposely brushing my fingers over the back of her hand as she reaches for her things. “And very delicate.”

“I didn’t mean to drop them,” she replies, pulling back from my touch like it just electrified her.

“No one ever does—here, that’s the last of them.”

Handing over the final book, we both stand up again.

I tower over the tiny girl.

She tries her best to look anywhere but back into my eyes, but I saw the way she subtly bit her bottom lip when I stepped out of the shadows.

It’s a look I’m used to getting. Still, I’ve never been so excited about seeing it on a particular person.

Francesca Galli.

My obsession.

My prey.

She’s even more beautiful up close.

Her dark raven hair bleeds into the night, and her bright hazel eyes twinkle against what little light there is. But I don’t get to stare at them for long.

Looking back over her shoulder, Francesca stares at the locked doors.