Page 26 of Savage Grace

I turned on my heel and headed into the nail salon, talking to the young girl behind the counter who always seemed to get shafted with the Saturday shift.

She slotted me in quickly though, and I took my seat, soaking my nails in the small bowl of warm water. I finally felt like I could relax without Theo playing pretend as my shadow.

“Stalker, much?” I said over my shoulder, feeling a familiar presence behind me.

The sound of the chair scraping across the floor hit my ears and then he plopped into the seat beside me.

“Stalk is such a… strong word,” Ashe rested his head on his fist, leaning in close and looking up at me.

“I think it’s the perfect amount of strength.”

“Mmm?” he smirked.

The lady doing my nails looked between us, her back stiff.

“It’s okay. He doesn’t bite,” I assured her.

“You don’t know that,” he hummed thoughtfully and scooched the chair closer.

He smelled fantastic.

Like tyres, like leather, like amber.

All the subtle notes that followed Ashe whirled into one strong and fucking intoxicating scent.

I’d recognise it anywhere.

“From what I remember, you’re actually quite gentle.”

He bit the inside of his lip and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

I looked over at him for the first time.

“Maybe you’re just shit at stalking.”

Ashe shook his head. “Nah. That can’t be it.”

I let out a huff of laughter, and his arrogant smirk grew. He watched me with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Like he couldn’t figure me out, but was having fun trying.

I’d never been very good at the mysterious girl thing, I was too bold, too outspoken. But Ashe watched me like he was studying something very interesting.

“What do you want, Ashe? I’m assuming it’s not acrylics.”

Again, he didn’t say anything and just continued to stare.

“What?” I snapped, my irritation rising.

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “Don’t often hear that name.”

“Sorry, you want me to call youHennylike yourbros?”

He pursed his lips and considered for a moment. “Nah, I like the way it sounds when you say it,” he dropped his voice another octave, leaning in closer so I could feel his breath against my neck.

I pressed my thighs together and shuffled in my seat.

Jesus.

He’s the enemy, Zarina.

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