You Are Mine(140)

Stopping by the counter, she handed him the hangers and the tags she’d obviously removed from the clothes. “Here. You’ll need these.”

He took them from her and pulled out his wallet, adding up the prices then extracting some cash and dumping it on the counter. The sales assistant clearly had the phone attached to her ear because she didn’t stop talking, but he wasn’t waiting. He didn’t need the change anyway.

Grabbing Violet’s arm again, he tucked her in close as they headed out of the store.

The walk back to the apartment was far more tense this time and she made no effort to talk to him, which he appreciated. It was hard enough trying to keep his mind on what he was supposed to be doing and not on the way the smell of the leather of her jacket combined with her scent to make something new and utterly sensual.

Fuck, this was ridiculous. With any luck Jericho would be getting in contact real soon and then she wouldn’t be his problem anymore.

They came to a stop by a street crossing, waiting for the signal. His building was just up ahead and he was running over in his head his plans for when Jericho got in contact, where he was going to get the man to meet him and how that was all going to play out.

Then Violet suddenly jerked away from him.

Because he was a little distracted, his reaction wasn’t quite what it should have been, his fingers closing around her arm just a fraction too late.

He cursed viciously, but she was already running, flinging herself across the street heedless of the traffic, ignoring the sounds of car horns as she dodged them. And for a second he found himself watching in amazement, because shit, the gall of the woman. She just never gave up, did she?

Then he was running himself, plunging into the crowded mass of vehicles after her. Tires squealed, more horns sounding, the shouts of drivers echoing as he slid over the hood of one car then dodged a motorcycle. He ignored all of them, his attention fixed on a small figure in black running for her life down the sidewalk.

She hadn’t a chance of course. He was stronger and faster, and although fear must have given her wings, his anger was rocket fuel. She was his only chance to get to Jericho and he was not letting her get away.

The distance between them decreased by the second and when she turned her head to look behind her, it decreased even more as she slowed. She whipped her head back around and tried to put on a burst of speed, but even that wasn’t going to save her.

He wasn’t even near to being winded.

There weren’t a lot of people around, but even so he had to catch her and catch her quickly in case someone decided to take action and call the cops. Which would be the last fucking thing he needed.

He ran faster, closing the distance.

Violet was heading towards a group of people standing on the sidewalk up ahead and chatting, but she must have realized she wasn’t going to reach them in time, because she suddenly changed direction, darting down what must have been an alley way between two buildings.

Bad idea.

He reached the alley seconds later, racing after the dark figure in black fleeing down it.

Catching her at the halfway point, Elijah reached out and grabbed her, hauling her around then pushing her up against the rough brick of one of the buildings bordering the alley.

She struggled at first, pushing against him, and then, when he didn’t move, she went still, lifting her chin and staring up at him. She was panting, her skin flushed pink with exertion, her blue-green eyes glittering. Fear flickered there, unmistakable. Yet not as much as he’d thought. In fact, she looked more angry than anything else.

Christ. This woman.

“What the fuck was that?” He put a hand on her shoulder and pinned her against the wall. “You do that again and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

She stared at him, the fear disappearing, replaced by a kind of determined defiance. Then, shockingly, her mouth curved and she gave a breathless laugh. “Oh, come on. I had to try, right?”

And for some reason he couldn’t possibly fathom, her laughter made a surge of intense rage go through him. He was sick of her bravado. Sick of her defiance. This determination to push him, test him. This complete refusal to be cowed.

She had to stop. She had to learn he was something to be feared. Not some weak little fuck in a suit that could be manipulated into doing whatever she wanted.

She wanted to push him? Consider him pushed.

“You think this is a game?” He leaned in, so close they were almost nose to nose. “Well, do you, Violet? You think that when I catch you, it’s your turn to chase me?”

Her smile became twisted and he could see the rage begin to flicker again in the turquoise depths of her eyes. Rage and fear, they always went hand in hand. So she was scared and she hated it, and she didn’t want him to see it. Well, fuck, he could work with that.