Hell, it’s been so many weeks, but he’s still not giving up on watching me and trying to find any clues as to why I was at the initiation.
Even now, I can feel that savage intent radiating off him in waves. Goosebumps erupt on my skin and I shiver as if I’ve been drenched with cold water.
I retrieve my earbuds and put them in, then raise the volume to the max in a helpless attempt to drown out my surroundings.
It doesn’t matter if my hearing is gone. I can still feel his aura flaring around me, prickling my skin, nearly suffocating me.
Something happens behind me and I pretend I haven’t sensed it and march on.
A sudden movement jolts me to a stop and I slowly turn around.
I grow still at the scene in front of me.
Two guys lie on the ground, their noses and mouths bleeding while they twist and wriggle in pain. Over them stands Jeremy, his fist bloody and his expression blank and freezing.
It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him this close and I almost forgot how absolutely huge his build is. His leather jacket stretches against the corded muscles of his biceps and the heaving of his wide chest.
I have no doubt that he’s the one who made them like that, and now, I wish I hadn’t stopped to inspect the scene.
Just when I’m thinking about the best way to escape, he strides toward me. I’m too stunned to move and he reaches me in a few steps.
I flinch when his hand shoots out at my face, but he doesn’t grab me. He yanks out my earbuds.
The loud music still reaches me even as he engulfs them in his big hand with veins extending from the back of it to his long fingers.
“Why the fuck—” he cuts himself off, then starts again with a more collected tone. “Who listens to loud music while they’re walking alone at night?”
He’s talking to me. Blimey. Why is he talking to me when he’s made it his mission to only watch me?
My skin heats and I think I’m hyperventilating. No, I’m sure I am.
The savage weight of his stare stabs me as he waits with growing impatience to hear my reply.
“I didn’t think—”
“You obviously didn’t think. Do you even do that?”
“Don’t insult me.” I breathe harshly. “I wouldn’t have put on the loud music if you weren’t following me like a creep.”
I pause.
Damn it. Damn it.
It was an unspoken rule to not admit I was aware he was stalking me, but I went ahead and divulged that I knew all along.
I expect anger, maybe a lash of his freezing coldness, but a slight smirk lifts his lips. “Like a creep, huh?”
“I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t mean what? The creep part?”
“I’m… I’m going home.”
“No, you’re not.” He clutches my elbow. “Since I’m already a creep, might as well act on it.”
CECILY
I’m stunned into long, thick silence.
And Jeremy uses the chance to drag me behind him. He doesn’t do it gently, doesn’t wait for any cues from me. He just digs his fingers into my elbow and pulls me along.
I’m wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, but my skin tingles and burns where he’s gripping it.
The sudden, nonnegotiable motion might as well be an ambush that strips away all my defenses.
I’m not used to being treated this way—stalked, manhandled, grabbed with brutal strength.
I gradually snap out of my shocked state and try to wrench my arm free.
His powerful, much bigger hand engulfs my elbow in a merciless hold, fingers digging further in the skin until I can feel a bruise forming there.
“Where are you taking me? Let me go.” I hate the tremor in my voice, the helplessness in it.
I’ve always prided myself on being confident and having the ability to conquer anything in my path, but this is a lot different from anything I’ve experienced.
Jeremy Volkov isn’t a person who I can stand up to and hope to come out of the encounter unscathed. He’s not an entity that can be dealt with logically and hope for favorable results.
The more I see him, the deeper I’m trapped in his night-like aura. Ruthless, heartless, boundless.
“J-Jeremy…” I purse my lips at the stutter and my skin heats. It starts where he’s touching me and spreads through the rest of my body.
He doesn’t answer me, doesn’t acknowledge my existence as his sharp strides cut the distance through the night. The muscles in his back are rigid, rippling beneath his black leather jacket.
It’s a fact that Jeremy is a big man, probably the biggest I’ve seen, aside from Nikolai. But right now, he’s like a giant animal.
No, not an animal.
A hunter.
He’s been chasing me ever since the initiation, and I was insolent enough to run away once and stop him the second time.
And maybe that’s what led us to this predicament. Maybe that’s how I ended up being targeted by the most dangerous man I know.
The one whose name is whispered in university halls, fight clubs, and the streets. The one who comes with gruesome rumors attached to his name.
The most prominent of all is how he makes people disappear.
My body goes rigid at that reminder. Maybe it’s my turn now. Maybe he’s had fun tormenting me by following me around, and now, he’ll execute the next step that involves getting rid of me.
“Jeremy!” I call again, much louder this time.
He glances at me from the corner of his eye, looking no different than a monster in sophisticated clothes.
“So you do know my name, yet you chose to address me as a creep.”
I swallow. He’s not going to let that go, is he?
“I—”
“Don’t.”
“You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”
“I don’t need to. If you’re going to blurt it out without mulling it over in that head of yours beforehand, then it’ll only piss me off further.”
My mouth opens, but I force it closed.
So he is mad.
It’s hard to tell when he appears angry all the time.
He tugs me forward and I stumble, nearly dropping my books as we come to a halt in front of a huge bike.
The same bike I’ve caught glimpses of him riding a few times.
This thing is monstrous, and I resemble a stray mouse next to it. Jeremy, however, fits the vibe.
He looked to be in complete harmony the last time I saw him on it. He had one leg on the ground, helmet on, and his hands hung nonchalantly on the handlebars.
Jeremy finally releases my elbow and I resist the urge to massage the spot where his fingers assaulted my skin.
He plucks a helmet out of the saddlebag and leans toward me. It’s really bad for my self-esteem whenever he’s in my vicinity, because the only thing I can think about in this current situation is how to escape.
One of my legs steps behind the other and I jolt when my back hits the bike.
I jerk one hand up. “Stop it!”
He swats it away effortlessly, as if it’s nothing more than a cardboard prop, then shoves the helmet on my head.
I try to resist and grab his wrist to push it away.
He pauses and glares at me silently, so silently that it’s creepy.
How does he not want me to call him a creep when he scores a hundred for the vibe alone?
The moment he stops strapping the helmet in place, my struggle stops, too. Mostly due to his glare.
“If you want to touch me, all you have to do is ask. There’s no need to play hard to get for it.”
Heat flares in my cheeks when I realize I’m cradling his wrist, fingers stretching across his warm skin. Now that I’m not fighting him, it’s like I’m trying to grab his hand or something.
I release him with a jerk and he uses my flustered state to finish strapping on the helmet.
“Can you let me go?” I ask, softly this time, imploringly even.
For someone who obviously gets off on violence, countering it with the same medicine probably wouldn’t be as effective as trying the exact opposite.
“Not yet.” He grabs the top of my books and I hug them further to my chest, which causes his fingers to brush against my breasts.
A zip goes through me and my hold falters around the books. Jeremy all but yanks them out of my arms.
The man doesn’t have one gentle bone in his body.
He dunks them in the saddlebag. “Why are you confiscating my books?”
“You’ll get them back when we’re done.”
“Done with what?”
He casts me a glance, and I can’t help noticing the smudge of blood on his palm that he got from beating up those guys.
Then leaving them wailing and groaning in the middle of the street.
That’s the type of person Jeremy Volkov is. A man who solves problems with his fists and likes stealing other people’s identities just to teach me a lesson.
So how come I’m caught in his web?
“You’ll find out.” His tone is final, prohibiting any other questions.
He straddles his bike and revs the engine. I’m pretty sure he sees me flinching at the loud sound, and unless I’m imagining it, there’s a twitch of his lips, too.
I’ve always hated superbikes, sports cars, and anything with loud engines and crazy horsepower.
The sensory overload hurts my ears and makes me want to hide in the nearest nook.
I cast a glance at my surroundings. The lot he parked in is isolated, but there are two roads ahead. Surely, if I run, I’ll be able to find a passerby—
“Don’t even think about it.”
My wide eyes land on Jeremy, who’s casually sitting on his bike and watching my every move.
“How do you know what I’m thinking about?”
“You’re a lot more obvious than you realize.” He strokes his index finger on the clutch, back and forth, as if he’s performing some sort of a ritual. “If you want to run, go for it. But you should know that I’ll chase you, and I can’t guarantee what I’ll do to you the moment I catch you, so if that’s an option you’re willing to gamble on, by all means, go ahead and run. If not, I suggest you hop on, peacefully.”
A whole-body tremor goes through me, and it’s due not only to his calmly spoken threats, but also to his words.
The innuendo behind them. The deepening in his inflection when he said them.
He wants to chase me.
I can see it in his dark, ash-gray eyes that he wants me to run.
No, he’s wishing for it. He’s hoping I’ll run so he can get off on chasing me.
Like in that forest.
He’ll pin me down, rip my clothes off, and have his way with me. He’ll unleash the animal inside him and devour me.
My legs shake and a crazy part of me yearns to actually run and hide. Run and be chased.
I internally drive the idea out of my foggy brain. Just what the hell is wrong with me?
Head trauma.
That’s the only explanation. I must’ve hit my head when he shoved me to the ground that night. That explains all the craziness I’ve been thinking about since then.
Or the last words he said to me.
Come back when you’re ready to be fucked properly.
A sling of heat ripples through me and I force those thoughts away.
Jeremy doesn’t break eye contact, his soulless eyes singlehandedly attempting to barge into my soul.
Looking at his face for even a few seconds is the most draining thing I’ve ever done.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even blink. Just stares.
I break eye contact first and climb onto the bike.
I try to, anyway.
The thing is huge and I’m not used to it. My foot slips and I grab onto his leather jacket at the last second.
Jeremy clutches my elbow, the same elbow that he held on to for dear life earlier, then jerks me behind him in one go.
“That’s what I thought.” He speaks with a mocking edge, as if he wouldn’t expect anything less from me.
Before I can respond, his bigger hand envelops mine and then plants my palm on his lower abs. My arm is all wrapped around his hard, sculpted waist and my fingers tremble slightly over his jacket.
“Hold on.”
“I can grab the back of the bike.” Or his shoulders. Why the hell is he making me touch him?
A slight twitch of his lips is all the answer he offers as he revs the bike forward.