Page 12 of Savior

I don’t look back. I’m too busy rebuilding my walls. Creating strength. Locking down emotion. I need to focus to make sure I’m ready for the imminent threats.

Abi sighs. “But—”

“Go,” I grate. “Hurry up.”

I stalk into the kitchen and pull open the fridge, struggling to juggle all the roles expected of me. I’m the savior and the victim. The leader and the servant. The nurturer and also so badly in need of nurturing.

And above all else, I’m a mess. Just like everyone else.

I grab an assortment of cheeses, along with grapes and pâté, placing them all on the counter when the sound of the sliding door brushes my ears again.

I keep my focus on the food in front of me, taking my time to place them on a serving platter as I wait for Luther to hurl abuse at me for being an unaccommodating host.

“Penny…”

I freeze at the unexpected voice, the tone far younger than Luther’s.

I don’t turn. I already know the low, husky cadence comes from the man with the stubbled jaw. The one who stopped the progression of a monster’s hand along my thigh.

“My name is Luca,” he murmurs. “I work for Cole.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. My limbs tingle with the need to protect myself. His tone may be laced with kindness, but I hear it for the deception it is.

“I know who you are,” he whispers. “I know where you’re from.”

I stiffen as unwanted memories assail me, hitting like a slap across the face. I fight not to remember the long-forgotten place he speaks of—my childhood home. The friendly neighborhood I grew up in. The warmth. The love.

I place both hands on the counter, desperate for the smooth stability, and raise my attention to his. Up close I can make out the harsh hazel irises. They scrutinize me, trying to read my anxious thoughts.

“I know about your family.” He flicks a cautionary glance toward the entryway on the opposite side of the kitchen, then returns his gaze to mine as he steps forward. “I can help yo—”

“I think you’re confused.” I force a smile. “Luther won’t share me. So, whatever you’re playing at, whatever stunt you’re trying to pull, it won’t work. I’m not to be touched.”

His jaw tightens.

I’ve spoiled his plan. Or at least I’ve hit a sore spot. God only knows if this man is smart enough to listen to my caution.

He takes another step. “I don’t want to touch you. That’s not why I came in here.”

“Then stay where you are.” I back away. “Don’t move another inch.”

He doesn’t listen. In fact, he grows taller in the diminishing space between us, his presence taking up more room as he creeps closer. “Penny…”

My name on his lips is sickening, the tone placating and authoritative at the same time. “I’m here to help you,” he continues. “I can—”

“Stop,” I growl. “Whatever you have planned, you’ll get caught, then Luther will punish you. It doesn’t matter who you think you are. You can’t silence me. I’ll scream.”

His lips press tight. His nostrils flare. Pure frustration ebbs from him yet it’s not enough. I need his defeat. I have to know he won’t divert his sickening intent toward my sisters.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” I whisper. “Luther may act like he’s willing to share his harem, but believe me, he’s far from generous. As soon as you lay a hand on any of us you’ll be indebted to him and he always reclaims what he’s owed.”

“Luther doesn’t scare me.” His face softens. “And like I said, I have no desire to touch you.”

I glare despite the likely retaliation I’ll receive for my insolence. “So, you’re one of those role-playing types?”

Each monster has a different strategy. A well-greased kink.

Some enjoy boasting their horrors. And others, like this man, prefer to play nice, luring victims with honey to later strike with sickening poison.

---