Page 24 of Born into Blood

I look towards the stairwell again. “How safe is it?”

“It’s pretty safe.”

Turning my head at her hesitant tone, I say. “Pretty safe? What does that mean?”

“It means it’s pretty damn safe.”

“What aren’t you telling me, kisa?”

“Nothing,” she mutters and then reaches for the backpack that’s still slung across my chest. I watch as she steps closer to the bike, and with me still sitting, she’s at the perfect height for me to kiss her, but I don’t. I run my eyes over her, noticing the exact moment she realizes how close our faces are. Her breath catches while her eyes widen, and then that pretty pink color spreads across her cheeks. She freezes in place, not sure whether she should lean closer or stand back up.

For now, I let her take control. I let her decide if she wants to close the distance. My patience isn’t going to last long, but there’s something about the tension between us that I’m starting to crave. It creates an ache inside me, but it’s a pleasant one—a delicious sort of torture that I’m becoming addicted to. I’m used to constant worry and obsessive thoughts, and this is a nice change. It’s just as all-consuming, but in a good way, in a way that leaves me constantly wanting more.

With a soft sigh, a pained look crosses her face before she grabs Pip and takes a step back. “Thanks, Luka, for everything.”

She starts to walk off but stops when she hears my laugh.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, kisa?”

“Going home.” She glances over at the elevator. “I won’t take the stairs.”

I raise a brow at her. “Why not? What aren’t you telling me?”

When she hesitates, I add, “I’m not leaving until you tell me, and I should warn you that I’m pretty fucking stubborn so I’m guessing I’ll be here all night.”

She bites her bottom lip before admitting, “A couple of tenants have been mugged lately.”

“In the stairwell?”

“Yeah, but the police were here, so I’m sure it’ll never happen again.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, not believing for one second that the stairwell is no longer dangerous.

“I take the stairs all the time. It’s really fine, Luka.”

“That’s not making me feel any better,” I tell her. Standing up, I stash the backpack under the seat again and walk over to her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m walking you to your door.”

The fear in her eyes lets me know she’d rather face the dark stairwell alone than let me anywhere near her apartment.

“Are you dating someone?”

“No.”

“Abusive father?”

“No, I told you it’s just me and my mom.”

“Then why are you so scared?” I gesture to my neck. “Are you embarrassed of the tattoos?”

“What? No, of course not.” Her blue eyes run over my skin, and when she licks her lips, I nearly groan. “I quite like them.”

I step closer so there’s less than a foot of space between us and reach up to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, stopping to let my fingers brush along her cheek.

“Then why are you so scared?”

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