Three
Stana
Weeks turn into months and soon, it’s been five months since I was attacked. I refuse to go out after dark alone and instead of walking, I take a cab or find a co-worker to give me a ride home after work. I feel like the darkness I’ve been living in has gotten even worse than before. Some days I have the hardest time just getting out of bed.
Just remembering the man grabbing me from behind and the way he pulled my leggings… No. I won’t let him overpower me today. I’m going to be strong. Closing my eyes, I lean against the building I live in and take a deep breath. I have to get to work in thirty minutes, and it’s at least a twenty-minute walk from my apartment.
Sighing, I wrap my scarf around my neck once more before I hike my purse on my shoulder and start to trudge down the busy street towards the office.
Every time I hear heavy footsteps behind me, I start to freak out in my head, and soon the darkness begins to overtake me. A heavy hand grabs my shoulder, and I barely register that I’ve grabbed the new knife that I started keeping in my bag. I whirl around and lunge forward with it. A hand grabs my wrist, and it’s pulled behind my back.
My eyes are wild as I start to panic and I fight the best I can against the person who has their hands on me. “Stana.” His accent, his cologne. My body instantly reacts to him, and I can feel all the tension and darkness slowly dissipate.
Our eyes meet for the first time in months, and part of me is excited to see him. When I’m not freaking out, my brain is always thinking about him – the man who saved me. God, I sound like one of those people who fall in love with the person who saved them. Hero-worshipping at its best. I can’t even think of what they call people like that. I mentally smack myself a few times before I look up at him again.
He towers over me, and when I look up at his face, it’s a mistake. I instantly think about the kiss and the way my body felt when he had his hand tangled in my hair. No. I won’t think about that. “Are ye alright lass?” I slightly nod my head, but he doesn’t buy it.
“Ye don’t look okay,” he murmurs into the top of my head. He releases me and then takes a step back almost like he’s trying to read my body language. “Come on. I can give ye a lift to work.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He just grabs my hand and leads me to a sleek looking black Audi R8. As he opens the passenger door, he motions for me to get in. Slowly I take a seat, and once I’m situated, he closes the door and jogs over to the driver’s side.
“So…” I start when he gets inside the car, but I don’t know what to say to him. How did he find me again? I was sure that I would never see him again. I doubt he comes to this side of town just for shits and giggles. I mean, it isn’t the safest, but I know it’s not the worst either.
“Yer wondering why I’m here, aye?” I turn to face him in the seat and nod my head.
“Yes, I guess I am.” I stare out past him and through his window, watching the people walking by. The car starts moving towards my work, and I don’t even think about the fact that he seems to know where he is going.
“Well, I saw ye and ye looked frightened. I gave ye me number to use if ye were ever afraid.” His gaze burns my skin. I can feel every inch of skin that his eyes travel over, but I refuse to look at him. I can’t look at him.
When the car comes to a stop, I look out the window and see the building I work in. My head snaps in his direction, and I see a smile forming on his lips. “How did you…” I trail off. Maybe I don’t want to know that he is following me or something. What if his plans for me are worse than just knowing where I live and work? Oh, my God. It’s my fault that I let him walk me home. I should have called the cops after I was attacked and he saved me. I’m such a moron.
“This may sound creepy, but I’ve been worried about ye. I followed ye to make sure ye were safe and that yer attacker didn’t come back.” My body tenses and I reach for the seatbelt to try and undo it quickly, but his hand stops me.
“I couldn’t just call ye. Ye don’t have a phone, so I worried.” I think back to the night he gave me his number. I’ve thought about calling it so many times since that night, but I always talked myself out of it. Since the attack, I’ve felt alone, even more so than before. I feel almost like part of me is broken and I’ll never be able to fix it.
“You don’t have to worry,” I say, picking at my nails.
“Aye, I do. I’m worried about ye.” He reaches over me and opens the glove box. I watch him with bated breath as he pulls something from it. When he rights himself in his seat, he looks back at me and hands me a box.
With shaking hands, I take the box and stare at him. When I look down at my hands, I see that it’s a phone box. Looking back at him, I’m sure I have a strange look on my face. “What is this for?” I ask not understanding why he handed it to me.
“It’s paid fer. I want ye to be able to call for help if ye need it. I programmed me number in the phone already.” He reaches his hand over the center console and cups my cheek, the same cheek that was bruised for weeks.
“Why?” I don’t understand why he wants to help me or I don’t know, save me. I’m sure he can get any girl he wants with that square jaw and high cheekbones. He’s like perfection wrapped up in a bad boy package. Even his rusty brownish hair is sexy in its messed up look that he seems to sport.
“Stana, ye need not worry. I won’t let anything happen to ye,” he murmurs. His body leans forward, and before I can get my brain to work again, his mouth is on mine. His kiss starts out soft before it turns urgent. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me closer to him. Going willingly, I kiss him back. All logic escapes me, and the only thing I can currently think of is him.
When he finally breaks the kiss, he bites my bottom lip giving it a tug before releasing it and pulling back. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Why does he keep kissing me?
“Ta tu go halainn.” I stare at him in confusion, and he starts to grin. “Ye are beautiful.” He finally says after a few moments of silence.
I blush at his compliment. I don’t remember the last time someone told me I was beautiful. Most men don’t even look at me twice. “Stana, believe me when I say it. Ta tu go halainn.” I slightly shake my head, but he stops me. “Don’t.” He closes the distance between us again and presses his lips to mine. “Don’t make yerself feel less than ye are.” Closing my eyes, I just feel his lips as they glide over mine, claiming them.
Breathless, I pull away and look at the clock on the dashboard. Shit. I’m going to be late. “I need to get inside. I’m going to be late.” My voice is winded like I’ve been running for miles. He affects me in a way no one else ever has. He gives me one last kiss before he pulls away and opens his car door. I watch him as he walks around the car and opens my door like a gentleman.
“Ye need a ride home, send me a text.” I nod my head, and he reaches in and helps me out. “I don’t want ye walking alone.” His breath is on my cheek, and it causes my body to break out in goosebumps.
“I can protect myself.” I finally forced the words out.
“Aye, but I want to know yer safe. I will pick ye up and take you to work and home.” Finally, I just give in. It doesn’t seem like anything I say will get him to change his mind. As much as I am flattered that he even wants to give me rides, I’m taken back. He doesn’t know me other than saving me from that man. Shaking out all evil thoughts, I finally agree to what he wants. A free ride won’t hurt me, hopefully.
“Okay. I’ll text you when I’m getting off.” My cheeks heat when I think about the double meaning my words have. I cover my face with my hands and shake my head. “That totally came out wrong,” I say. His grin widens, and he wraps an arm around me pulling me closer to him.
“I like the way it came out. I’d be happy to hear from ye when yer about to get off too.” His eyes darken, and my body reacts to his. The box in my hand slips and clatters to the ground. He looks down at me once more before he bends down to pick it up. His eyes are right at the bottom of my skirt, and I feel his hand reach out and skim over my bare legs.
A chill runs up my spine, and I try to hold still. I don’t even know why I am letting him touch me when I barely know him. When my brain finally plays catch up with the way he touches me, I feel like I’m going to be a puddle at his feet. I can’t lose myself to someone else. I can’t do the whole Rhett thing again. My mind won’t be able to handle it; I won’t be able to handle it.
I didn’t eat for weeks after he left. I laid in bed and cried myself to sleep every night. I couldn’t function, and I lost so much weight that I looked unhealthy. I’m finally back in a good place. Well, I was until the attack. I still can’t wrap my head around what happened that night. I was lucky that I only suffered a few scrapes and a bruised jaw. It could have been a million times worse.
“Yer thinking about that night?” He asks as he stands up to his full height. I didn’t even notice him take his hand off my calf. I nod my head slightly, and he frowns. “I told ye, I won’t let him hurt ye again.” I don’t know what to say or do.
How do you trust someone that you don’t even know? Better yet, can I even believe him?
Sure his brilliant smile and bad boy looks make me weak in the knees, but I don’t know a thing about him. He could be a killer for all I know. Oh my God! What if he is a killer? What if he’s going to kill me?
“Text me when yer ready,” he says pulling me from my internal rambling. Instead of doing the usual thing and saying that I don’t need his help, I simply nod. Turning away from him, I walk towards the office building and make my way inside.