When I was a teenager and heard all of the other girls talking about whoever the latest celebrity or fictional Prince Charming was, I used to think how foolish and silly they were. It wasn't just that there was no white knight coming to save the damsel in distress. There weren't any men as good as the ones they thought were real. They didn't understand that the celebrities were played up by their agents and PR people. They didn’t get that those guys weren't as cute, sweet or sexy as the media made them out to be. As for the fictional guys, they were just that. Stories. Make-believe. I liked to read, but I never confused fantasy for reality. Just like I knew there weren't any unicorns, werewolves, vampires or hobbits, I knew that there was no such thing as true love, a man worth dying for or a man who could be completely trusted and make me feel safe.

I'd recently come to realize that last bit wasn't necessarily the truth. There was one voice that I would immediately respond to, one voice that made me feel safer than any lock or weapon could.

The moment I heard Rylan say my name, the surge of relief that went through me was so intense that I stopped fighting against Christophe for a full second. Fortunately, he was just as distracted by someone at the door and calling for me. He froze. My paralysis didn't last as long and I yanked one hand free and punched him as hard as I could.

Pain flared through my knuckles and up my arm, but it was worth it to see him knocked off balance.

Less than ten seconds had passed since Rylan had knocked on the door.

“Rylan!” I yelled as I pushed against Christophe, trying to use his surprise to my advantage.

Christophe backhanded me and I tasted blood.

“Jenna?” Rylan's voice was more urgent and I heard the doorknob try to turn. “Are you okay?”

“Stupid bitch!” Christophe snarled as he grabbed my hair and twisted.

I cried out in pain as my neck was forced into an awkward angle.

A loud bang from the hallway told me that Rylan wasn't going to wait for me to ask him to come in.

Christophe slammed my head against the side of the couch and I was suddenly glad I didn't have a coffee-table. It hurt, but not half as bad as I knew hard wood would've. Hot pain flared across my cheek and I felt blood spill as Christophe's knife cut me.

“How many scars you think I can add to that body of yours before the boss gets in here?” His breath was hot against the side of my face.

He pushed against me, trying to force my nose and mouth against the fabric. I pushed back, ignoring the rug burns on my knees and legs as I fought for every inch.

Another second bang, followed by a loud cracking sound, and then Christophe was being pulled away from me. He held onto my hair, yanking me backwards. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

“Get the hell away from her!”

I'd never heard Rylan so angry. If it had been directed at me, I would've been terrified.

“She's mine!” Christophe shouted right back and let go of my hair.

I rolled onto my side, gasping, but needing to see what was happening almost as much as I needed air.

Rylan's fist connected with Christophe's jaw and the other man's head snapped back. Christophe stumbled, but didn't fall.

“He has a knife!” I barely managed to get the words out, but it was enough to give Rylan the warning he needed.

Christophe swung with the blade and Rylan jumped back, the knife missing him by several inches. I pushed myself up, watching as blood dripped onto my carpet. The thought popped into my head that my landlord was going to be pissed if that didn't come out and I wondered how hard I'd hit my head.

“It's over, Christophe,” Rylan said. He sounded calmer, but I could still hear the anger running under his words. He was controlling himself. “The cops are on their way.”

I wondered if that was true. I certainly hoped so. Rylan was in amazing shape and I had no doubt that, in a fair fight, he'd beat the shit out of Christophe. The problem was, I didn't think Christophe would fight fair. The simple fact that he was stark naked and swinging a knife instead of trying to run spoke to the lack of rational thinking at the moment.

“No!” Christophe shook his head. “She's mine. You can't have her. I've watched you go from girl to girl since I started working for you, and I know you were doing the same thing before that. She's just another notch on your belt, but to me, she's everything.”

If Rylan had called me 'everything’, I would've been thrilled. Christophe's words just creeped me out. I finally managed to get to my knees. I still felt a bit too light-headed to try standing on my own. We were like three points of a triangle, with Christophe being too close for me to get to the door, even if I'd been standing. Rylan would've been able to make it out, but I already knew he wouldn’t go for that.

“Why don't we just sit down and talk?” I tried to make my voice soothing. “The three of us.”

“You don't want to talk to me,” Christophe spat. “The entire time we were watching the movies, you didn't want to talk. I could tell.”

He took a step toward me and Rylan launched himself the short distance and tackled the other man. The knife went flying. With Rylan and Christophe trading blows, I went for the knife.

As my fingers closed around the handle, I heard the sound of flesh against flesh, and then a sound of pain coming from Rylan. Panic gave me strength and I rolled back toward the fight. I saw blood at the corner of Rylan's mouth and anger overshadowed everything else I was feeling. For the first time in my life, I was furious on behalf of someone other than myself.

I was still on the floor, so I didn't have many options, but I wasn't exactly going through a list of things I could do. I acted without thinking.

The knife was as sharp as I'd hoped, easily going straight through the top of Christophe's foot and out the bottom, into the floor.

He screamed, swinging down at me even as he tried to yank his foot up. I barely managed to get out of the way. He grabbed the handle of the knife and I knew it wouldn't take much to get it out.

In the distance, I heard sirens. Even if Rylan hadn't called the cops, someone had. Not surprising. I was sure most of the apartments around me had heard at least the last couple minutes of what was going on.

“I'm going to fucking kill you!” he growled as his fingers slipped on the handle. “I'm going to have you, slice you up and kill you.”

I heard the solid thunk before I even realized that Rylan had hit him again. Christophe's eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments and then he dropped to the floor. His leg twisted under him and the knife pulled. I could almost hear the flesh tearing. It came free from the floor and I caught a glimpse of a bloody half-inch of steel before I looked away.

I heard a deep, shuddering breath that sound almost like a sob, and it took me a moment to realize that it was me.

“Jenna.” Rylan's voice was soft and he was close.

I turned toward the sound. He was on his knees next to me, his expression pained beyond concern or worry. One hand was stretched out toward me, but he didn't touch me. I could see in his eyes how much he wanted to. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

His fingers brushed across my cheek and I felt them slide across the blood. “Oh, love, what did he do to you?”

My eyes burned with unshed tears. His lip was swollen and there was blood smeared next to his mouth. One cheek was red and already swelling. But it was me he was worried about.

His thumb traced under my bottom lip and I winced as he touched one of the tender spots. Anger blazed for a moment in his eyes and then faded behind other emotions.

“I want...” He stopped and shook his head.

“What?” I put my hand over his.

“What do you need me to do?”

Love swelled inside me. I couldn't call it anything else. That's what it was. Love. I knew it as well as I knew anything.

“What do you want?” I asked. My fingers tightened around his. “Tell me.”

“I want to hold you.” The need was there, raw on his face. “But after...” His mouth twitched. “I don't want to touch you in any way that would–”

I practically threw myself against him, burying my face against his chest so he wouldn't see the tears that I couldn't hold back anymore. The pain in my face was still there, but as his arms wrapped around me, they were all I could feel. He was all I could feel.

“I'm so sorry,” he said. “I didn't know. I thought you were safe. You should've been safe.”

One hand moved up and down my arm. The other made circles on my back. I began to shiver, unaware that I'd been cold until the heat from Rylan's body began to seep into me.

“You didn't do anything wrong.” My voice was muffled.

“How could I not know what kind of man he was?” Rylan shifted. His finger hooked under my chin and tilted my face up until I was looking at him. “I should've done a better job. I should've protected you.”

“You couldn't have known,” I said. It hurt my heart that he was blaming himself. Hurt my heart, but also made me love him even more. I knew that there were plenty of men who would've blamed me. They would've asked what I'd done to deserve this, how I'd led Christophe on.

I opened my mouth to tell Rylan everything, but stopped when a pair of police officers came through the broken door, guns in hand.