I’m dead tired when I fall into bed, my hair still damp from a quick shower. I don’t care enough to dry it. Tucking the pillow under my cheek, I close my eyes. Then immediately open them.

Something feels…off.

My cell is on the nightstand. I pick it up and reply to Tess’s long string of texts complaining about how Craig annoys her at work. He trapped her in the freezer for ten minutes, and he constantly brags about being the café’s best barista. She tells me she misses me, to please come back so I can stop her from strangling him to death.

Normally this would make me laugh. Instead a frown pulls at the corners of my mouth. In just a few short days, the carefree beauty of that life has been replaced by darkness and uncertainty. Even jokes about killing are uncomfortable.

There are no new texts from any unknown numbers. I stare at the one from this morning, trying to find meaning behind that one short sentence.

There’s nowhere you can go.

Nowhere I can go…as in nowhere I can hide? Nowhere they can’t find me?

Frustrated, I delete the text and shove my phone away. I don’t want to give this psychopath the satisfaction of keeping me awake. Turning off the lamp, I roll over and try to get some sleep.

A lingering feeling grows in the pit of my stomach, that same feeling I used to get while being watched. Cracking open my eyes, I scan the room.

The window.

It’s open.

Why didn’t I notice that before?

A shadow hangs over the side of the bed. Something cold and metallic touches my collar bone, just above the hem of my shirt. I suck in a breath. There’s someone there. A shadowed silhouette, looming over me.

Thinking it’s just a figment of my imagination, I blink several times. But the silhouette only becomes clearer as my eyes adjust to the dark. I’m not imagining things. He’s right there, standing over my bed.

Oh God.

My heart thumps hard and fast. It’s definitely a he, too. Dressed all in black, but I can see the bottom of his face. It’s covered in a short, dark beard. The outline of his broad chest and shoulders sharpen into view. The cold metal presses into my skin. Knife—he’s holding a knife.

I try to scream, but it catches in my throat. There’s a point of fear I didn’t know existed. It becomes so overwhelming; it’s impossible to cry out for help. I sound like an old man, gasping for breath. My voice feels broken. That only makes me panic more, and I gasp harder.

This is it. This is the moment my life ends.

Calm down, Amelia. Calm down so you can call for help. Casper is in the next room over. He’ll hear you.

He runs the knife along my collar bone. It doesn’t penetrate the skin, just grazes the surface. Except for me trembling, my whole body feels paralyzed beneath the tip of that knife. I can’t move.

The whites of his teeth shine in the dark. Tears sting my eyes; he’s enjoying this.

Call for Casper, dammit! Scream!

He removes the knife, sheathes it, and slides it into his coat pocket. Before I know what’s happening, he’s making his exit through the window.

I take one giant gulp of air and scream at the top of my lungs. At first it comes out in a whimper, but as I find my voice, the sound carries louder and louder. Until I sound like a wailing siren. I don’t stop screaming.

Moments later, Casper barrels into the door that adjoins our rooms. I scramble to find the light switch beside my bed, fumbling until I get it turned on. He looks at me, confused at first, then around the room.

Lifting a shaky arm, I point to the window. “He went through there.”

He runs to the window, peers out, then swings one leg over the ledge.

“Are you crazy?” I say, running to catch up with him, tripping over the sheets that follow me out of the bed. By the time I get to the window, Casper has already jumped to the ledge below, wearing only his boxers for God’s sake.

“Casper,” I cry out, unable to help the emotion in my voice. He can’t leave me here alone. He just can’t.

What if it’s a trap? The man had a knife—Casper doesn’t have anything. “What are you doing? You don’t even know which way he went.”

He looks up at me, then down at the alley four stories below. There’s no sign of anyone. It was obviously a well-planned exit.

“This could be our only chance!” I can see how torn he is by the way he’s looking back and forth. He doesn’t want to let the guy get away, but he doesn’t want to leave me either.

“You’ll never find him in the dark.”

“Oh, I’ll find him,” he grunts.

To what effort? To be stabbed in the back? To be shot, if by some awful luck the guy just so happens to have a gun? No way.

“Please, Casper.” The teary sound in my voice isn’t all for effect. The thought of him leaving is causing me to panic all over again.

He stares hard at the alley for several seconds before reluctantly nodding. “Okay, I’m coming back up.”

Thank God.

Releasing the breath I’m holding, I move away from the window to allow him room to come inside. Once he’s through, he closes the window with a little too much force. “What happened?” he asks, turning to face me.

“I don’t know. One second I was alone, the next—”

“Your chest—that son of a bitch!” he growls in a low, furious voice. “Are you all right?”

My chest? I need a mirror.

In the bathroom, I check myself out. Across my chest, a hair-thin red line grazes the surface of my skin where his knife pressed. Enough to remind me of his visit for days to come. Enough to remind me it isn’t over. Enough to remind me the nightmare only ends when I’m dead.

There’s nowhere you can go. Nowhere he won’t find me.

* * *

By the time the hotel staff, security, and police leave my room, I’m in a state of numbness. Staring at a blank wall with an empty gaze kind of numb. Explaining what happened, filling out reports—it’s all useless. The Serra killer is too smart. He’s been doing this for too many years.

When Casper first told me the truth about my family, I was swept up in the romance. Having a living parent, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins seemed so exciting. My life as an only child being raised by my grandmother was boring and sad in comparison. I could finally be part of something greater. I’d found my tribe.

Now there’s a big ol’ spotlight shining on the reality of my situation. Which, really, is simple: someone is trying to kill me. And at this rate, that someone may actually succeed.

There it is. In black and white. Maybe I’ve been delusional about my own death; maybe it’s only a matter of time.

Casper kneels beside my bed. He’s dressed now, having pulled on a white tee and a pair of jersey shorts just before security showed up at my door. I’m still in my purple polka dot pj’s. “Mila,” he says carefully. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“What?” I shake my head. “No, he wasn’t here long. A matter of seconds or a couple minutes at the most.”

It felt longer than a couple minutes; terror seems to have that effect.

He sets a can of soda from the vending machine on the side table—he thinks I’m going into shock again.

“I’m okay, really.”

Why does that sound like a lie?

Frowning, Casper unfolds the sheets and gets into bed beside me, propping a pillow behind his neck. My entire awareness centers on him filling the space next to me. Fully clothed, but next to me, in my bed.

The numbness is quickly wearing off.

He levels me with his gaze. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going back to my room.”

“I’m grateful you’re not.”

He picks up the remote to the flat screen hanging on the wall opposite us. “Want to watch some TV? Since neither of us stands a chance at falling asleep anytime soon.”

“Yeah, TV sounds good.”

But he doesn’t immediately switch on the television. “Hey…are you sure you’re okay?”

I swallow. “I’m fine.”

Tears sting at my eyes, but I hold them back. Weakness isn’t going to help me stay alive. I need to be strong. Casper isn’t always going to be here to save me. I have to learn how to survive on my own.

“Ah, shit.” Casper lets out a ragged breath. “Come here.”

He pulls me against him, cocooning me in his arms. I rest my head against his chest, breathing in the scent of his soap. I only realize how bad I’m still trembling by how tightly he holds me. The adrenaline is still there, racing through my veins. His presence surrounding me calms me down, little by little. I stay still for several moments, absorbing that calm. Eventually the blood pumping through me returns to a normal pace, and Casper’s hold loosens.

Without an excuse to stay in his arms, I let out a small sigh and look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You shouldn’t have been dragged into this. It’s too much for anyone.”

Our eyes lock for several long moments. There’s a fiery intensity to his reminding me of the way he looked at me out in the street. Tension fills the air, and I hold my breath. His gaze travels down to my parted lips, lingering there. In the street, it was easy for him to come up with a reason to stop what was happening. Here, I don’t think either of us can stop ourselves.

“Let’s get something straight; I wasn’t dragged into this.” Casper’s hands grip my shoulders. He shifts me around to face him. “I’m here because I want to be.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking about London or my bed.

He leans in. Slowly.

“What are you doing?”

“Something I shouldn’t.” His face is so close I feel his breath against my lips. “Tell me to stop, Mila. Tell me to stop this now before it goes any further.”

Tell him to stop?

Are there any good reasons? I’m sure there are plenty, but they’ve all fallen out of my head. Nothing in me wants him to stop.

Doesn’t matter anyway. Casper isn’t giving me any more chances. His mouth closes over mine. Careful, at first. As if he’s anticipating rejection. I reach my hand behind his neck to pull him closer, letting him know there’s nothing he’s doing that I don’t want him to be doing.

That’s all it takes.

His lips turn fierce and full of life as they prod mine open. His tongue delves into my mouth, slashing across my tongue. He tastes like mint and heat and something highly addictive. It’s exciting, but somehow terrifying, too. Terrifying because he tastes too good. I don’t think I could ever get enough of this. I’m pretty sure I could kiss him for hours.

He shifts my body, swinging one of my legs around him until I’m straddling his lap. His fingers dig into my ribcage as he pulls me closer, his mouth never leaving mine. I grab onto his shoulders to steady myself, moaning against his lips when I feel the hard bulge press against me…Oh, God…right there. If I ever had any doubt, feeling how much he wants me erases it. “You taste so fucking perfect.” His breath tickles my ear, echoing my own thoughts about him.

I’m going to lose myself in this. Do I care? Not at the moment.

He flips me over so fast it makes my head spin. He’s suddenly on top of me, his arms caged around my head. Tingles soar across my skin as he trails hot kisses up my neck, then over my jawline, and back to my lips. Our breaths are growing rapid, and the two of us are quickly treading into territory there’s no turning back from.

Casper breaks the kiss to lift his head. “Do you want this to happen?” It takes a while for me to realize what he means by this. “I need to know it’s okay.”

Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes and try to form rational thought, which is so much easier said than done when all of my thoughts are centered around the way he’s making me feel.

Focus, Amelia. Focus.

Yes, I absolutely want this to happen.

But…dammit. Arghhh.

This isn’t me. I don’t hook up with guys I’ve known for a few days. Eight months of dating Ethan never even got me to this point.

What am I thinking?

I know what I’m thinking. I’m thinking I’ve never met anyone who has made me feel so much. I’m thinking I don’t really care how temporary this is. I’m thinking I’ll regret it if I don’t keep going.

Then again, I might be getting all my emotions mixed up. An hour ago, I thought I was going to die. Two days ago, I found out I have a family I never knew existed. Casper is tangled up in my giant web of emotions, and I wonder if that’s part of his appeal.

I look down at his perfectly sculpted muscles, and back up to the gorgeousness that is his face. Nope, the guy has appeal all on his own.

Besides, I was attracted to him after meeting him on the beach, before ever finding out who he was. There would still be this much chemistry between us without all the other baggage. Well, maybe. Does it even matter?

Casper notices my warring emotions. I flinch as he hits the headboard behind us. “Fuck, Mila. This is wrong. I can see how wrong it is all over your face.”

“That’s not what—I don’t think it’s wrong.” He moves away from me, and I instantly regret my indecisiveness.

Sitting up, I curl my knees to my chest and watch him leave the bed. He stands, running a hand through his dark hair. “Just to be clear, I came here to help you. I wasn’t angling for anything else.”

“I never assumed that.”

He walks across the carpeted floor, then back again. “You needed my support, and I took advantage of the situation.”

“That’s not what happened.” He’s acting like he’s the only one dancing in this tango, which is really annoying. “I can be attracted to you without it being your idea, you know.”

He looks directly at me, letting out a ragged breath, as if he’s in physical pain.

“Why did you stop?” I ask him.

“Because you weren’t sure.”

“Only because you made me question everything. God, I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. Why can’t it be that simple?”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “I live my life by those words. But something tells me you’re not wired the same way.”

He’s right. I’m not wired that way. I really, really wish I was. Then there wouldn’t be a problem.

Taking a few slow steps closer, Casper sits down beside me again. “You told me how you feel about sex, remember?” He reaches for a strand of my hair, twisting it around his index finger as he watches me. His rough voice turns remarkably gentle. “You need it to be…more. I don’t think I can give that to you.”

My heart sinks. I should’ve known. What were his exact words earlier? I don’t like being tied down. Meaning there could never be anything more than sex. As much as it hurts, I respect him for telling me. He could’ve just taken what he wanted, then disappeared later, like Noah. The memory sends a sharp, painful twinge through my chest.

“I understand.”

He stares at me with so much longing, and I wonder what internal battle he’s fighting. “I’m going to regret this so fucking much.”

As screwed up as it sounds, a small, twisted part of me is gratified by that. Because I know I’ll regret this too.

Casper sighs, uncurling my hair from his finger. He reaches for the remote again and switches on the TV. British accents take over the room, some witty sitcom playing. Everything feels awkward, and I don’t know what to do with myself. Shifting back under the covers, I try to get comfortable. It doesn’t work.

A few seconds later, Casper wraps his arms around me, snuggling me into his side. “Relax,” he says. “I’m just going to hold you.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Because it wasn’t the last time.”

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest beneath my cheek. “I promise to keep my hands from wandering. Try and get some sleep.”

Yeah, like that’s happening.

There’s something oddly comforting about the way Casper holds me though. Feeling his hard body beneath me feels warm and safe. It transports me somewhere miles away from everything dark and threatening.

Whatever this thing is between us, it’s unusual.

I sigh.

I’m really going to hate it when he leaves.