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The wind is knocked from me, and I decide I don’t need to breathe as long as his lips are on mine.
I ache for him, for more of his touch, to taste him again and again.
Hunter pulls back, his eyes boring into mine. “Don’t go. I want what is mine... you.”
I hold my breath at his words. “I’m not yours. You can’t claim me.”
“I can, and I plan to, Little Red.” He practically growls.
The truth in those words hits me in my core. Could this entire situation be a moment of weakness caused by lust between us? There is a connection, like an invisible cord pulling us together, but still, this could be a terrible idea.
“As much as I want to say yes, the stubborn part of me tells me to run away as fast as I can,” I admit.
Hunter’s arms tighten around my waist, holding me against him. I rest my hands on his firm chest and play with a button on his crisp white shirt, not wanting to meet his gaze.
Hunter sighs. “If you want to go, I won’t stop you. You have your grandmother’s phone number and mine. I will walk out that door now and never return if that’s what you truly want.”
I glance up at him.
He’s giving me what I want.
I push away from the security of his embrace. His demeanor changes from the soft, wanting, and gentle man he was while holding me into the cutthroat leader of the underworld that he is.
I clutch my hands at my chest, coldness seeping from my heart through my lungs like a morning frost settling over my body.
“I want to go.”
9
Loneliness settles into the pit of my empty stomach as I walk out of my apartment, wheeling my suitcase behind me. During the last six months, I’ve saved as much as I could in case something ever came up.
Leaving Hunter in my apartment was hard. I needed to do it, though. I don’t want to be a part of what he’s offering. I’m sure there’s something between us. It was overwhelming, the way he made me feel secure, not lonely, as though I had someone on my side, and best of all, he wanted to keep me safe from my family and his.
He isn’t a monster. At least, I hope he isn’t.
I could be very wrong, though.
Stopping on the sidewalk outside my building, I don’t know where I’m going. I left with no plan, no direction.
I grab my purse, digging for my journal. I started it six months ago, keeping pictures of places I’d like to go. Opening it, the first place that pops up is New York. But instantly, my internal alarm bell starts ringing.
Isn’t that like the crime capital of the States or something like that?
However, it’s only a couple of hours away, and it’s a start. I need to start fresh, and I’m sure I can find somewhere safe in the surrounding towns.
* * *
While I sit at the bus station waiting to board, I put some sort of plan together in my mind—find a halfway house or backpack and hide out until things settle down.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll through news articles about crimes I should be aware of, and a message pops up.
Hunter:
I really wish that you stayed with me. I just received a phone call from my father. It’s not good. Your father contacted mine to tell him that you are alive. Reconsider, please. Go to your grandmother’s. She can keep you safe.
Reading those words, your father, causes my chest to tighten with fear. It weaves its way under my skin, wraps around my insides, and twists with each word I read.
Me:
