Page 43 of Coveted

Panting, I look up.

Another figure rapidly moves toward us, silver streetlight hitting his distinctive features.

It’s Lucan, running at full speed. The cold fury in his face chills me.

My captor hisses in my ear. “See you soon, Sadie.”

As Lucan closes in, the man hurls me forward.

An instant before I break my teeth on the sidewalk, Lucan catches me in his arms. He swings me upright and sets me deftly on my feet.

Further up the side street, a car door slams and brakes squeal.

Lucan holds me steady, letting go only when he sees I can stand. The car speeds past us and flies around the corner.

He scoops up a loose brick from the gutter and pitches it at the car. The throw is fast and brutal, his arm whipping forward. With a loud crunch, the brick slams into the car’s rear window.

The glass spiderwebs with cracks, but the car keeps going. It hurtles up the street and disappears around another corner within seconds.

The stench of burnt rubber hangs in the air.

Lucan strides to me. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Heaving for breath, I shake my head. “I don’t know. He grabbed me and pulled me along. I think he was taking me to his car.”

“Who was it?”

“No idea.” I grimace. “I thought it was you at first.”

His eyes narrow to slits, like he can’t believe what I just said. “Really?”

“How can you blame me? You’re a stalker!”

“I’ve never tried to stuff you into a car, Sadie. After tonight, you should want someone watching your every move. You need somebody looking out for you.” His gaze drops to my wrist, which I’m rubbing. “Did he hurt you?”

The brief indignation filling me deflates like a balloon. I hunch my shoulders, unexpectedly stung by his words about needing a protector.

Maybe because I don’t have anyone to look out for me. I never have, really. I don’t know what that feels like.

“I’ll manage,” I say. “I always do.”

“Except just now. He nearly kidnapped you.” Lucan’s rough voice softens. “Please tell me if he hurt you.”

I shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“Show me.”

Pulling up the sleeve of my sweater, I hold out my wrist to show him the red fingerprints on my skin.

The marks are just minor bruising, but Lucan’s jaw tightens like I’ve been stabbed.

“I’m fine, I swear.” I pull the sleeve down, so he stops glaring at the redness. “I guess I’m glad you came when you did,” I add stiffly.

Lucan’s a stalker, but he saved me. The contradiction only adds to my overall confusion.

If the killer really is after me, maybe Lucan’s the lesser of two evils.

But he’s still evil.