“Don’t scream,” I say. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Her hazel eyes look wild, and I know she’s not really processing what I’m saying. All she sees is a mortal threat, and she’s reacting accordingly. In another few seconds, she’ll either faint or become hysterical, and neither would be a good thing.
“Sara.” I make my voice hard. “I’m not here to hurt anyone, but I will if I have to. Do you understand? If you do anything to attract attention to us, people will die.”
The mindless panic in her gaze abates slightly, replaced by a fear that’s more rational, if not any less intense. I’m getting through to her.
It helps that I’m not bluffing.
“W-what do you want?” Even with the layer of lipgloss over them, her trembling lips are pale. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you,” I say, pulling her with me through the crowd as I maneuver away from the cameras positioned around the bar. Sara’s bare arms are tense in my grasp, her skin chilly to the touch, but as expected, she doesn’t scream.
From everything I know about her, the little doctor would sooner die than endanger a bunch of strangers.
“Dance with me,” I say again when I have her where I want her—next to a wall in a dimly lit part of the dance floor, where the crowd forms a human shield around us. To facilitate her compliance with my request, I release her arms and clasp her waist, being careful to keep my grip gentle.
Her body is as stiff as a block of ice as I hold her close, but to everyone around us, we look like any other couple swaying to the music. The illusion is only strengthened when her hands come up and her palms splay against my chest. She’s trying to push me away, but she’s too shocked to put much strength behind it. Not that it would help if she put all her strength behind it.
I can overpower most men with minimal effort, much less a woman as slight as her.
“Don’t be afraid,” I murmur, holding her gaze. Even on a crowded dance floor, I can smell her scent, something delicate and flowery, and my body reacts to her proximity, my cock hardening at the feel of her slender waist between my palms. I want to pull her closer, feel her body against mine, but I force myself to keep a small distance. I don’t want to scare her with the intensity of my need. As it is, the look in Sara’s eyes is that of a small animal caught in a trap, all blind fear and desperation. It makes me want to pick her up and cuddle her against my chest, but that would just terrify her more. There’s no action of mine that wouldn’t terrify her at this point; I could invite her to sing karaoke, and she’d have a panic attack.
“What do you want from me?” Her breathing is fast and shallow as she stares up at me. “I don’t know anything—”
“I know.” I keep my voice gentle. “Don’t worry, Sara. That part is over.”
Confusion edges out some of the terror in her eyes. “But then why…”
“Why am I here?”
She nods warily.
“I’m not really sure,” I say, and it’s the absolute truth.
Over the past five and a half years, vengeance ruled my life. Everything I did was in pursuit of that goal, but now that I’m almost through with my list, the future lies dull and empty in front of me, the path ahead shrouded in a bleak fog. Once I kill the last person responsible for my family’s deaths, I won’t have a purpose. My reason for existing will be well and truly gone.
Or so I thought until I met her and saw the pain in her doe-like eyes. Now she consumes my dreams and haunts my waking moments. When I think of Sara, I don’t see my son’s torn body and Tamila’s bloodied face.
I only see her.
“Are you going to kill me?”
She’s trying—and failing—to keep her voice steady. Still, I admire her attempt at composure. I approached her in public to make her feel safer, but she’s too smart to fall for that. If they’ve told her anything about my background, she must realize I can snap her neck faster than she can scream for help.
“No,” I answer, leaning closer as a louder song comes on. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
She’s shaking in my hold, and something about that both intrigues and disturbs me. I don’t want her to be afraid of me, but at the same time, I like having her at my mercy. Her fear calls to the predator within me, turning my desire for her into something darker.
She’s captured prey, soft and sweet and mine to devour.
Bending my head, I bury my nose in her fragrant hair and murmur into her ear, “Meet me at the Starbucks near your house at noon tomorrow, and we’ll talk there. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”